Up front, it’s time for the toasts, and after a hilarious one from Grandma, it’s my turn. I make my way to the front of the room where the mic is set up, trying to remember what I worked up this morning when I had a few minutes. I clear my throat, and look out at the crowd, at the cousins and second cousins and John’s family with all their kids, and my mind goes blank. “Ahh . . .”
There’s a nervous titter in the crowd and then silence, and I’m about to break down when Oliver stands up. “I know I’ve only known Mary Jo and John a week,” he says, making his way to the front of the room and putting his arm around my shoulder. His blue eyes find mine, and I feel both strength and longing flood my heart. Oliver smiles and gives me a kiss on the cheek before continuing. “I know that’s not a long time to get to know someone, but I don’t need a week. I don’t even need another minute to know that John is one of the luckiest men in the whole damn world.
“Some of you are probably thinking I’m saying this because I want a better wedding gift when Mindy and I tie the knot,” he says, earning a few laughs. “And I’ll admit, the thought did cross my mind. John, I happen to think that Monaco is a great place to take a honeymoon, don’t you?”
His joke earns more laughs, and even I have to smile, putting an arm around Oliver’s waist and holding him tight. He hugs me, then continues. “But seriously, I know that you’re a lucky man, because so am I. Because any woman who was able to raise two daughters as wonderful, as beautiful, and as special as Mindy and Roxy . . . that’s a woman you want to have by your side for the rest of your life. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say. Well, the reverse is true. To the luckiest man in the room and to his lovely bride. May your lives be filled with happiness and joy.”
There are tears in Mom’s eyes as Oliver raises his glass, and as we make our way back to our seat, I give his hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”
“I meant it,” he says quietly, giving me that same heart aching look. The toasts continue, with Roxy going last, dedicating her singing instead of a normal toast. As Mom and John dance on the floor to Roxy’s version of Wonderful Tonight, I can’t help but feel my throat grow tight for what feels like the thousandth time today. Oliver sounds moved, too. “They’re going to have a good life.”
“I hope so,” I whisper, choked up. I look at Oliver and reach over, taking his hand. “Will you dance with me, next song?”
He nods, taking my hand in his, and as Roxy finishes up, we stand and go to the floor. I’m hoping for something faster, something that won’t tear my heart out anymore, but Roxy sees us, and we’re trapped as she starts up. A Thousand Years.
“Just dance,” Oliver says quietly, sensing what I’m thinking. He pulls me into his arms, and I let myself move, losing myself in his eyes as we dance. I’m scared, I’m hurting, but I let myself go, putting my arms around his neck and dancing with him. Christina Perri’s lyrics might be a total lie. I haven’t even known Oliver for a thousand hours, let alone a thousand years . . . but the heart’s the same.
And I’ll give him a thousand more, if he’ll have me. I’m just too scared to tell him, to tell him that as I look at him here on the dance floor, I want the lie to be real. That he’s better than the fictional Harold I created as a lie. That I want him, that I need him. That I love him.
“Oliver . . .” I say, trying to form the words, but before I do, there’s a tap on my shoulder, and I see Mom giving me a smile.
“May I have this dance with my daughter?” Mom asks, and Oliver nods, moving off to dance with Grandma. For the rest of the reception, we have fun, but Oliver and I never get a chance to talk until dinner arrives and we sit down. The tables have been rearranged, and Oliver and I have joined Mom, John, Roxy, and Grandma at the head table.
“You know, Oliver, you’re full of it,” Grandma says as the filet mignon is brought out. “I heard you tell Mindy that you can’t dance. You move like a cat.”
“Well, what I said was I can’t twerk as well as Brad,” Oliver says with a grin. “That’s not a lie. I didn’t say I couldn’t dance.”
“Yeah, well, you keep it up, and I’m going to have to drag you out there to see if you’re lying about that,” Roxy jokes, sipping her wine. “What a great reception.”
“This wedding has been wonderful,” Mom says. “Best night of my life . . . or second best . . . or hell, I’m just going to say it’s tied, and this one doesn’t involve me giving birth!”
“Yeah, well, after this, I can’t wait until Mindy’s and Oliver’s,” Roxy says. “I so wanna see that ceremony.”
There’s a clatter of silverware, and I look up from my plate to see Mom staring at Oliver and me, her eyes wide. She suddenly snaps her fingers, grinning ear to ear. “That’s it!”
“What?” Roxy asks, and I feel a wave of despair sweep over me.
“Mindy and Oliver! What if you got married tomorrow? This place is so wonderful!”
“What?” I ask, hoping to nip this in the bud. I can’t do this, I just can’t. “Mom, that’s not what we planned. Besides, you need to get packing after this. You’ve got a honeymoon to get ready for.”
“Nonsense!” Mom says, and I feel nauseous. I glance at Oliver, but I can see the same desperation in his eyes. We’re trapped, and I don’t know how we’re supposed to get out of this without hurting someone. “The whole family is here. It’ll be Sunday. Instead of us gathering for some stuffy lunch, we can have the wedding here. John, you can get that handled, right?”
Grandma doesn’t say a word, but the way she’s looking at me, I can see the hope in her eyes. She’s not as forward as Mom is, but she’s hoping we say yes, I can see it.
“But Oliver’s family—,” I began to protest, but Mom cuts me off, holding up her hand.
“Can have their own ceremony for you two. You’ve already told me you both wanted to have a wedding some place like here. John is more than willing to take care of it. I mean, you’ve already been engaged for a year. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
I open my mouth to say no, but I freeze when I see the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. I hate that Mom put me in this position, but I know she’s just being Mom and she means well. I look uneasily at Oliver. He’s quiet and tight-lipped. This isn’t a game now. I can tell he’s as flustered as I am. All I can do is look in his eyes, and as I do, I keep thinking about the way he said he loved me last night and the way he looked at me while we danced today.
What am I supposed to do? In a perfect world, I’d have met Oliver a year ago, he’d have walked into the Beangal’s Den, and he’d be my actual fiancé. I wouldn’t be lying. I wouldn’t be trying to decide which is worse, a sham marriage or breaking my family’s heart.
I lick my lips, looking around the table at everyone as they all stare at me. Even though there’s conversation at the other tables, at ours, it’s quiet. I can hear my heart pounding in my chest.
Now would be the time to tell them the fucking truth. I can’t keep mounting lies on top of lies.
But looking at everyone, I feel my heart squeeze. I can just imagine the look on their faces when I fess up. God, I might actually kill Grandma by breaking her heart. Congratulations on the wedding, Mom. Your daughter’s been lying and killed Grandma because of it the same night. Sorry.
Oliver starts to try to say something. “John, Mary Jo, this place is amazing, but this is your time. You guys should have the spotlight.”
John waves it off, wiping his lips with his napkin. “If that’s what you’re worried about, forget it. Mary Jo wants to see her daughter happy. Mary Jo and I are far too old to be worried about this day being special just for us. If you want to make it special, let us give you this gift. Let me do this for you.”
I look around at the hope in their eyes. The pressure is enormous, more than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. Any thought of telling them the truth dies in that moment as I look in Mom’s hopeful eyes.
“Okay,” I say, ignoring the shock that flashes in Oliver’s eyes. “We’re getting marri
ed here.”
Oliver
“How could you do something like that?” I ask, pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. “I mean, I know this, all of this, is because you’ve dug yourself a big ass hole, but . . . fuck!”
It’s hours after the reception, and we’re back in our room. I think almost everyone else is asleep, but I’m still dressed in my wedding outfit. I’ve at least taken the time to strip off my bow tie and jacket, half unbuttoning my shirt to try and be able to breathe because I’m so pissed.
Mindy’s found the time to get out of her dress, pulling on a sexy little pair of sleep shorts and a large V-neck t-shirt that does nothing to hide the fact that she’s gorgeous. In fact, if I weren’t so mad, I’d be obsessed with showing her just how gorgeous I think she is.
She looks sad and conflicted. “They were all looking at me and depending on me. I knew I should have said no, but I couldn’t do it.”
“It’s pretty easy. No. Nyet. Nein. Non,” I bite back, forcing myself to take a deep breath when I see her lip tremble. I hate how angry I sound. But this came completely out of left field. I know I’ve been lying the whole time by saying I'm Mindy’s fiancé, but this was something that didn’t have to be. But on another hand, I don’t know why I’m so worked up. “You could have at least said you’d think about it, that you don’t want to answer without having a private conversation with me. Played it off or something. Not get us deeper into some shit . . .”
“I’m usually strong and independent, but when it comes to family—” she says softly, her voice cracking. She stops and starts again. “You don’t really want to marry me, I know. You hate me now.”
“I—” I try to reply, but I choke up. I can’t speak over the lump in my throat. Is that what she wants? A real wedding? Is that why she’s looking so miserable right this moment? Does she really think I hate her? “I don’t hate you. And I don’t know what I want, not while I’m this angry. Not while . . .”
Mindy nods, and I see the hurt in her eyes. But after a week of lies, of half-hidden comments and games back and forth, I can’t lie anymore. I’m too pissed off to really respond to that.
Still, I feel like shit because I can't assuage her pain. I know she’s trying to please her family. It’s noble from a certain point of view. And she isn’t the only one who’s guilty of lying. I know we’re both in too deep. But this seems like she stepped over the line. Save your mom’s feelings? Sure, I get it. Sham marriage? No, there’s got to be a line somewhere.
When she speaks again, her voice is small and filled with shame. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a terrible person, Oliver. I swear I’m normally not such a coward. It’s okay if you hate me. If you don’t want to talk to me ever again after this is over, I’ll understand.”
Not talk to her ever again? It hurts to even hear the words. And I don’t know why I can't just tell her it's okay, we’ll do it and just get through it. I guess I’m just still raw over everyone’s emotions, seeing them hope for Mindy, wanting us to consummate our love. Love that they don’t know is supposed to be fake.
“Don't say that,” I say more harshly than I should.
“Don’t say what?” she asks, her voice raw and choked with half held-back tears. “That you hate me? Go ahead and say it. At least someone this week knows the truth about me!”
“That’s not true—” I start, stopping when my thoughts start to tumble over each other. I hate the lies, but I can’t hate Mindy. And the truth about how I feel about her is so enormous, so insane, it scares me to even think about it, let alone say something about it.
“You’re so mad right now you can't even talk. You think I’m weak!” Mindy continues before I can get my head right, emotions sweeping her away and taking me with her like a lake that’s broken through a dam. We’re helpless in the rush, and all I can try to do is hold on for dear life.
She’s definitely not weak. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever known, and that’s what I love about her. She just puts others before herself a lot of times. I’ve seen it in everything Mindy’s done this week. From this whole charade to the stories she’s told me about her life back home, even the ways we’ve had sex, everything this woman does is to please others. Her deepest desire is the desire to see other people happy. She drinks it, survives on it like it’s her daily bread.
I’m unable to offer anything, not trusting myself to speak. I don’t really know what I can say. I’m angry, so angry that my fingers are trembling as I hold them behind my back just to give them something to do. I’m hurt. And worst of all, I think I’m madly in—
“I’ll just go fucking tell them,” she says, jumping to her feet. “Get this over with like I should have in the beginning. I don’t know why I did this.”
I step In her way. “Don’t,” I growl. As much as I wanted her to say no at the time, I don’t want to see her hurt more by telling her family and upsetting everyone. “We just need to carry this thing through at this point.”
She tries to step past me but I grab her by the arm. “Don’t,” I repeat, staring into her beautiful eyes that are now blazing in anger. “You’re not going out that door.”
She tries to twist out of my grasp, but my hand is like iron, and while I’m not squeezing her, I’m not releasing her either. “Let go of me!”
“No.” I step closer until we’re almost touching foreheads, my own anger growing. “You’re not going anywhere, Princess. You committed us to it, and we’re going to fucking do it.”
“But you don’t want to,” she hisses. “And you have that right. I shouldn’t have said yes. I'll just tell another lie,” she says, lowering her head in shame. “I’ll tell them we changed our minds, that your mom said she didn’t want you to have it without her.”
“No!” I repeat, pulling her back from the door. “We’re doing it, and that’s final. We’ll get an annulment as soon as we get back.”
She goes lax in my arms. The anger evaporates, leaving just a wounded hurt in her eyes. It’s like she’s upset that I’m going to annul our fake marriage. It’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? And how could I get married and stay married to someone I’ve only known for five days?
“What do you really owe Gavin?” she asks quietly out of nowhere after a long pause. “Why would you do this for him? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing. I’ve been trying to figure out this whole time why a man like you would go through all of this, even for a friend, when I know you can’t be that close to him. Brianna and I are besties, and she knew nothing about you until that first day. So what is it? I haven’t been able to come up with a damn thing.”
My first reaction is to play it off, be evasive. She goes over to the bed and sits down, pulling her legs up to her chest and looking at me with a wide, trembling gaze.
I want to lie, but the way she’s looking at me is like a mute, desperate plea for some sort of truth, some way to understand in this world of lies. She’s drowning. I’m telling her that I demand to go through with a sham marriage after a sham week. As much as we’ve gotten to know each other, as much time as we’ve spent over the past week, I know she’ll know if I’m lying.
I can’t do it. I won’t lie. “I lost to him in a game of poker.”
“A game of poker?” She furrows her brow. “You’re doing this over a game of poker? Are you fucking nuts?”
I lick my lips. I hate to say this. “I wish it were that simple, that I’m insane. But it’s more than that. He beat me out of a little more than half a million dollars.”
The breath escapes her in surprise. “No wonder you agreed to do this,” she says when she regains her voice. She shakes her head angrily, then looks at me with venom in her smile. “Gavin fucking owns your soul, doesn’t he? So this whole week, you’ve been just trying to do what he asked, and I know what he asked of you. He said to show me a good time, be everything I could dream of. Be the perfect fiancé, and by God, you did it!”
“I agreed to be your fiancé,” I agree. “But since t
hen—”
“So you telling me you loved me the other night, that was just part of you trying to get your half mil back, wasn’t it? I was such a fool. I even started to get lost in the whole damn thing. I was beginning to believe it. But now I know. This whole thing has been fucking fake. How much was that I love you worth, huh? A hundred thousand? Two?”
Anger tightens my chest. It’s like she’s accusing me being some sort of gigolo, a whore doing this for money, when she was the one who wanted and needed someone. “Isn’t that what this is supposed to be? Fake. Why are you acting like it was supposed to be anything else?”
I know my words are angry and hurtful, but I speak before I think. I’m out of control, the pain too damn much. “I did my job, Princess.”
She hangs her head, tears streaming down her cheeks to drip onto her thighs like diamonds on caramel. “You heartless son of a bitch.”
“You’re going to call me names now? I’ll let you fucking know that I have more than enough money. Losing that much is never fun, but I didn’t need that money, Mindy. And I told Gavin to kiss my ass with his request and was just going to pay up until I saw . . .” my voice trails off, my voice blocked again.
“Saw what?” she asks, getting off the bed to look in my face. She’s hopeful, I can see it, but I’m too afraid of what I’m trying to say.
Instead, I swallow it all back, forcing it into the depths of my stomach where it sits like a sour pill, roiling and churning at my gut. “Nothing. You have no right to be mad. Yeah, at first I was doing this because of money, but all of that changed when I got to know you. I’ve had a good time, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be real at first.”
She crosses her arms, scowling at me.
“It’s the truth. I don’t make up lies to save my ass.” Fuck. I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I wish like hell I could take them back. “I didn’t mean—”
Mindy’s hand lashes out, unthinking and fueled by the hurt and shame that’s boiling inside her. She hits me with every ounce of fury in her tiny body, probably even before she knows she’s doing it, whipping my face to the side.
Dirty Deeds Page 38