Don't Mind If I Do : A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy

by Everly Ashton

  I’m surprised I don’t find Rowan at her desk when I walk into Ollie’s reception area, but then, again it’s early. Ollie might not even be in. But when I walk up to his office door, I find him behind his desk, typing at his computer. I knock on the door and he looks up.

  “Hey, man. Surprised to see you here today,” he says.

  I step inside his office and take a seat on the other side of his desk. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He shrugs. “Figured you’d maybe whisk your lady love away for a quick honeymoon.”

  I roll my eyes. “You know it’s not like that.”

  He leans back in his seat and pulls his dark-rimmed glasses off his face. “I thought I did, but then I saw how freaked out you were when you thought something was wrong with her before the ceremony.”

  “I’m a doctor. It’s in my DNA to be concerned when I think someone could possibly need medical attention.”

  He nods slowly. “Maybe. But that felt different.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you’re too up in your feelings to know.”

  He chuckles. “Maybe. How’s married life anyway?”

  “It’s fine. We avoid each other as much as possible at this point.”

  “That’ll make for a long six months.”

  I shrug. “I can handle it.”

  “Sure, you can.” His voice is taunting.

  I swear to God, if he weren’t my best friend, I’d jump over this desk and clock him. “Anyway I didn’t come here to talk about my marriage. I wanted to run something by you.”

  He tilts his head. “Okay…”

  “You know how Marlowe works at ON MASS?”

  He nods. “Sure.”

  “What do you think the chances are of her doing a story on the homeless shelter and how we’re each down there once a month to see people and lend a hand?”

  He looks at me from under his eyebrows. “And by we, do you really mean you?”

  “Of course I mean me. You don’t need any good press. You’re looked at like a saint around here.”

  He shakes his head.

  “It would be good press for the shelter too.”

  “I guess.” He rubs the side of his face as though this is stressing him out. “I’m done with lying though. Let me at least tell Marlowe why you need the good press. I already hate that I’m keeping the reason you married Mazzy from Jemma. I can’t handle the stress anymore. She’s asking me questions I have no answers for. I can’t keep this up.”

  The slight whine in his voice says he’s at his limits.

  “Fine, fine.” I wave him off. “Tell her if you need to. I don’t care.”

  “All right. I’ll mention it to Jemma and see if she can talk to Marlowe about the article. Fiona too, since she works at the shelter.”

  Jemma, Marlowe, and Fiona are a trio. I think in girl speak, that means they have to know everything the other ones know.

  “Sure, whatever.”

  He huffs out a sigh. “All right. I’ll talk to Jemma about it tonight.”

  I stand from the chair. “Thanks, man. You’re the best.”

  “Rough shift?” he asks before I turn toward the door.

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I look like a complete bag of shit?”

  Ollie shakes his head. “You look like it was a long twenty-four hours.”

  “It’s been a long week, put it that way.”

  He nods knowingly. “Got it. Okay, I’ll let you know what the girls say.”

  “Awesome. I’m outta here. I need to crash.”

  Exhaustion makes my limbs feel water-logged as I make my way to my vehicle. I don’t know whether it’s the shitty night weighing on me or maybe it’s that I’m going home to a new wife I don’t really want, but regardless, all I want is a bed and silence.

  Twenty-One

  Mazzy

  “There’s my devious best friend.”

  I look up from my phone. Ava is standing on the other side of the table with a less-than-impressed expression.

  It reminds me of my mother’s face earlier today when I met with my parents in my dad’s office. She was livid that I didn’t tell her I was getting married—mostly, I suspect, because she was caught off guard when people asked her about it.

  But with my father’s cajoling, Mom backed off. My dad’s text after I left told me to keep up the good work, he’s counting on me, and it put more pressure on my shoulders.

  Now my best friend bears the same look, but I’m tired of explaining myself.

  Ava’s known me since elementary school and she must see I’ve reached my limit, because she pulls out the chair on the other side of the table and squeezes my hand. “I was just kidding, Maz. I’m happy for you, but I’m a little disappointed I wasn’t in the loop.”

  I give her a small smile. “I just came from seeing my parents.”

  She nods, pressing her lips together. “I take it Estelle Pembrooke didn’t appreciate being blindsided?”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” I set my phone on the table. “She’ll get over it.”

  “Sure she will when she realizes how deliriously happy you are. Which I assume you must be since it is not like you—at all—to get married on a whim. Tell me everything.”

  Guilt coats every one of my words as I tell her the story Nick and I agreed on. Ava’s chin rests on her palm and her head is tilted. I swear she has heart eyes. If I were telling her the truth about Nick forgiving me when we saw one another again and that we knew we wanted to be together forever, then I’d have heart eyes too. But since it’s not the truth, her reaction makes me feel guilty as hell and like a terrible friend.

  I remind myself that Pembrooke Financial rests on this false relationship and my ability to pull this off.

  “I can’t believe you married Nick! I mean seriously, Maz. I know how crushed you were after everything went down.”

  I frown. “Yeah, it took me a long time to get over it.”

  “I’m not sure you ever really did, did you? I mean, why else would you have married that douchecanoe, Jeffers?”

  “Can we not talk about my ex-husband please?”

  “You know I’m right.” She gives me her patented “tell me I’m wrong” look.

  And really, she is right. I loved Jeffers, but never the way I loved Nick. I think I knew deep down that Jeffers wasn’t right for me, but I hoped we’d make it work. I caved to the pressure from my mother and some of my other friends to get married and start a family. But the moment I saw those pictures of Jeffers with his mistress, we were finished. I refused to turn a blind eye to his cheating. I deserve better than that.

  “Regardless, I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Okay, then let’s talk about how the sex with Nick is. Spill.”

  I chuckle. “I’m not going to discuss sex with my husband with you.”

  She fake pouts for a second. “You’re no fun.”

  The waiter comes and takes our order, and after he’s brought us our drinks, Ava fills me in on the latest design disaster in her world. Then she changes the subject back to Nick and me.

  “At least tell me whether it topped what happened at prom.” Ava leans in, obviously eager for details.

  I think back on our kiss after the wedding ceremony. Every part of it is burned into my brain. As amazing as our kiss was at prom, the one at our wedding topped it. Back then we were two kids who didn’t know what to do with our lust. Now we’re adults with more experience and regrets behind us and that was obvious in our kiss.

  Even though Nick has been in college for two years, we’re still as close as ever and he’s the only boy I wanted to go to prom with. Lately I felt as if the string connecting us has been pulled tighter and tighter. Still, I knew if I asked him to take me to prom, he’d say yes, and he did.

  The party was a success, and once we got to Payton’s house for the after-prom bash, Nick and I both opted to change into more comfortable clothes. Soon we found ourselves outside, as we often did at these partie
s, lying side by side on an oversized chaise beside the Olympic-sized pool in Payton’s backyard.

  Payton’s family lives in Winchester, a wealthy suburb of Boston. Maybe that’s why Nick and I always found our way outside at these parties. Both our families have large brownstones in Beacon Hill, and though the square footage is large, the yards are not, and the light pollution of the city makes it difficult to see the stars.

  “Did you have fun tonight?” Nick asks, slipping his hand into mine.

  The warmth of our palms touching sends an electric current up my arm to my heart, which loses its rhythm for a moment. “The best time. Thank you for being my date.”

  He lets my hand go and rolls onto his side so he’s facing me. I do the same. I can just make out his face thanks to the ambient light cast on us from the water. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him look at me like this.

  The two of us are the best of friends, but sometimes I catch him looking at me in ways that make it obvious he hasn’t friend-zoned me. I’m sure he’s noticed the way I look at him—with a mix of want and devotion.

  “Thank you for asking. I couldn’t have handled you taking someone else,” Nick says.

  My stomach feels as if someone is tickling it from the inside. “Why would it matter to you?” I hold my breath, praying his response will be the words I want to hear.

  But he shakes his head and closes his eyes briefly. “I don’t want to say.”

  “What if I want you to say?” I whisper.

  Our gazes lock, and it’s a long minute before he speaks. “Because I want you and I don’t want to see you with someone else.”

  A floating sensation comes over me as if I’m in the middle of the calm lake on a raft. My limbs are light and tingly as I suck in a breath. “I feel the same.”

  The words barely leave me before his lips are on mine and I melt into the kiss. It’s exactly how I thought it would be. Different from any of the boys I’ve kissed before. As though nothing exists but the two of us and this feeling.

  Our tongues dance and his hand slides down my back until he squeezes my ass. I push into him so that my chest meets his. He groans deep in his throat, biting my bottom lip. The space between my thighs tingles and an urge comes over me to rub against him. He squeezes my ass again and I moan.

  Too soon, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  My forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re leaving to go away to college this summer. I still have med school in two years. We won’t have time to be a couple.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.” I lift my chin to kiss him again, but he pulls away and sits up.

  “It’s not fair to either of us. We’ve toed the line between friendship and something more for so long, Maz. When we finally do this, I want the timing to be right.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “Because I can’t bear for us to fuck it up and not have you in my life at all. If being just friends with you for longer than I want to is what it takes to make sure you and I go the distance, then I’d rather suffer through that than lose you altogether.”

  I sit up beside him. “You’re not going to lose me.” I rub his back while he studies me.

  “That’s easy to say right now, but what about when it’s been days since we talked because we’re both busy, and I know you’re out with your friends doing God knows what while I’m home studying? What about the weekends you do come home, and we can’t spend as much time as we want together because you have obligations? I don’t want us to end up resenting each other.”

  I sit quietly, looking at the stars. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. We’re headed in different directions for the foreseeable future.

  Disappointment spreads over me. I wanted tonight to be special, memorable. Screw it. Why can’t it still be that? Why can’t we still share this moment?

  “I understand what you’re saying, but will you do one thing for me?”

  His head tilts. “What?”

  “Take my virginity tonight. I want to remember this night as something special, and I want my first time to be with someone I care about. I want it to be with you.”

  His mouth hangs open. “What about everything I just said?”

  “I get it. I do. And I don’t want to ruin anything between us either. I can’t lose you. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get a taste of what it will be like so we have something to look forward to in the future.”

  He cups my face. “Are you sure? I know what a big deal this is for you.”

  I’m not an idiot. I know Nick has had sex before. And I’m not entirely innocent either. I’ve fooled around with a guy before, but I’ve never gone all the way. Mostly because it just never felt right.

  “It feels right, Nick. It feels like it should be you.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Then yes. I’d be honored. Let’s pretend like this is the first night toward forever.”

  “It is,” I say. “We’ve just got a pit stop along the way.”

  “Mazzy? Earth to Mazzy?” Ava’s voice draws me from my memories.

  The night we shared at prom was magical, and even after how everything went down, I don’t regret making Nick my first. I was right about us having a pit stop. I just didn’t realize one of us would leave the other one there.

  Twenty-Two

  Mazzy

  I arrive home early in the evening to find Nick at the grill in the backyard. I only got a quick glimpse of the backyard the day of our wedding because although it was our intended spot for the ceremony, it had been raining.

  The yard is well kept and has a large stone patio with two separate seating sections—one with a table to eat at and another with a couch and a set of chaise loungers. A covered hot tub sits near the garden doors that lead out to the patio.

  Nick is dressed in a pair of grey casual shorts. They’re worlds away from the grey dress shorts he wore at the private school we attended. His white T-shirt reveals the way the muscles in his back and shoulders bunch up when he uses the spatula on the grill.

  “Hey.” I step outside. The warm evening sun beats down on me, but it’s not sweltering.

  He turns around, and although there’s not a smile on his face, there’s no disgust either. Progress. “Hey. I don’t know if you’re hungry or not, but I made extras just in case.”

  I step over to the grill with a warm feeling in my chest. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.” He’s grilling chicken as well as a variety of colorful vegetables.

  Nick shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

  But it is to me. To me, it’s an olive branch. We could spend this next six months simply coexisting in this house and living separate lives except for when we’re out in public. But I’d prefer it if we could be civil. We don’t have to be best friends again or in love with one another, but I don’t want to pretend we’re strangers either.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Have you been cooking for yourself in the last decade?”

  He has a point. Growing up, we had a chef—as I also did when I was married. Nowadays, I have my meals delivered by my favorite restaurants. But Nick’s acting as if he’s always fended for himself.

  “Have you?” I raise an eyebrow in turn.

  He chuckles, much to my surprise. “Touché. But to answer your question—yes. I’m no gourmet chef like my buddy Keane, but I get by.”

  “I believe it. Looks good.”

  “Thanks.” He looks away from the grill and gives me the once-over. “How did you spend your day?”

  I sigh and twist my neck from side to side. “Explaining to everyone why it is I rushed off and married a man I haven’t seen in nearly a decade. You?”

  “Sleeping and ignoring phone calls from everyone so I don’t have to explain.” His eyes are full of mirth.

  “Sounds about right.” There’s an awkward silence for a moment, and I feel the need to fill it. “How long until dinner is
ready? I need to change.”

  He moves his head back and forth as though he’s mulling it over. “Five minutes maybe.”

  “Perfect. Be right back.”

  I head to the guest room and change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. When I come back down, Nick has already set the outdoor table and plated our meals.

  I pull out the chair across from him and look at my plate. “This looks amazing, thank you.”

  He doesn’t seem to know what to do with my compliment. “It’s just chicken and veggies. I try to eat lean when I can. Gotta keep up this physique.” He pats his stomach as though he’s carrying around a Santa’s belly.

  I can’t keep my gaze from trailing over his hard stomach, broad shoulders, and biceps that stretch the fabric of his T-shirt. “I can imagine.” To prevent me from embarrassing myself by ogling him more, I cut a piece of my chicken before spearing it with my fork.

  “It offsets all the beer I drink.” He smiles at me and I look away. “How did your parents take the news?”

  After I’ve finished swallowing, I answer. “My dad was okay with it.” My lie by omission makes a twinge of guilt race through me. “My mother not so much.”

  He lets out a dark chuckle. “Wished you were nabbing the better Ryan brother, I assume?”

  I ignore what he’s alluding to. Tonight has gotten off to a good start and I don’t want to derail it by talking about the past. “She wasn’t appreciative of being surprised and not having answers when her friends questioned her. My dad talked her down, then I talked her out of throwing a huge party to celebrate our nuptials.”

  “You were successful, right?” he says, as though a big party would be the worst thing in the world.

  “I was. Though just barely.”

  “Thank God. The last thing I want to do is celebrate our pretend marriage with a bunch of Boston’s upper crust. It’s bad enough I’ll have to go to some of their events with you. I certainly don’t want to attend one where I’m the center of attention.”

  I let out a dark chuckle. “You’re naïve if you think all eyes won’t be on you anyway.”