Who'd Have Thought

by G. Benson

  “Congratulations, here’s your certificate. You have to wait until five past ten tomorrow morning to proceed.”

  And with that he turned back to the computer. Sam stood up, her hand dropping away to pick up the certificate he’d slid across, leaving Hayden’s leg to be blasted with what now felt like freezing air. Her cheeks were flaming, though. That was enough to make up for it.

  They ended up on the street, and Sam’s expression was unreadable. “Maybe I should have spoken about the fact that I was going to touch your leg beforehand?”

  “What?” Hayden’s voice was far too high-pitched. “No. No, no. It was fine.” Yup. Too high-pitched and weird. She cleared her throat. “It was fine.”

  That sounded slightly more normal.

  “It was what we spoke about, though, wasn’t it?” Sam asked. “Or did I misunderstand?”

  “No, you didn’t misunderstand.” Fewer people were walking on the sidewalks now. In spite of this, they both moved to the side to let anyone who walked past go by. “I was just surprised.” Hayden hoped it sounded reassuring.

  “I thought it was time we should do something like that. And it didn’t matter if it looked awkward, since no one we knew was there. Practice.”

  “Good thinking. Especially since I made it weird by jumping a foot in the air.”

  Sam pressed her lips together, but those lines fanned around her eyes, and she looked just that bit more approachable. Hayden had the distinct feeling she was being laughed at. “You did jump spectacularly high.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Hayden said, as the not-smile on Sam’s face turned into a laughing smirk. “I know.”

  “I really must go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  That smile had fallen away, and Hayden felt her own do the same.

  Tomorrow.

  Their wedding.

  Ew.

  “Yeah. Tomorrow. Ten at City Hall?”

  “Yes.” Sam nodded. “Ten. This is it, Hayden. Are you sure?”

  The reminder of that money sitting in her account, and how it would double as soon as she signed, made her say, “Totally.” The idea of two hundred thousand more made her add, “Yeah, I’m in.”

  “Okay.” Sam started to walk past her. “I’ll send my lawyer the prenup this afternoon. I’ll send you an e-mail to confirm it’s sent. See you tomorrow.”

  “See you at the wedding.”

  Sam’s laugh was all Hayden heard as she watched her walk away. Her knee still burned, the weirdness of Sam touching her too much, it seemed.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Right. So it wasn’t an elaborate joke?”

  Hayden took a sip of her coffee and set it on the table, staring at her drink a moment, rather than Luce. “Nope. Sorry.”

  Luce sucked in a breath. Around them, the café was mostly empty. It was a Monday night, after all, sometime after eight o’clock. It would close soon. But before a night shift, Hayden liked to stay up as late as she could to try and sleep later the next day, or at least be tired enough for a decent nap before she started in the evening. And Luce had messaged her repeatedly to catch up until Hayden had finally relented.

  She had promised to chat later, after all. Which had been a stupid thing to do.

  “You don’t like marriage.”

  True. “No, I don’t.” Hayden didn’t want to lie even more by pretending that she’d become, completely out of the blue, one of those people that fawned over bridal magazines and thought about what song to play for their first dance. “But, well, it seems right.”

  “Look, Hayden. That sounds very romantic and…” Luce searched for another word and finished pathetically, “…nice, but it’s been a few weeks. How can you possibly know it’s right?”

  Going for clueless, Hayden shrugged. “I just do. For us. And our circumstances.”

  “What if you hate living with her? What if she drives you mad because she’s one of those people that has to always put the cap back on the toothpaste?”

  Hayden wrinkled her nose. “You don’t always put the cap back on?”

  “Not the point.” Luce dropped back against their chair, throwing their hands up. “Seriously. Marriage? Before you even live together? Why not simply live together first?”

  It was worse than having this conversation with a parent. Hayden tried to remind herself that Luce cared. Also, Hayden was feeling defensive about telling Luce a big, fat, dirty lie. She took a deep breath.

  She was lying anyway. It was time to embrace it.

  “Because I want this, Luce. Do you really think I would do this if I didn’t have my reasons?” Hayden looked her best friend straight in their big, dark eyes. Like was not going to cut it here. “I love her. It’s way too fast, and I know that. But I want it. You just have to trust me.”

  God, that felt like crap. Luce pursed their lips as if having to really think on their words before leaning forward and nodding, their teeth on their bottom lip. “Fine. I’ll trust you. It’s not my place to push this.”

  “Thank you.” Hayden swallowed. “Really, thank you.”

  “Okay. So you’re getting married.” They tried to look interested, and what Hayden assumed was supportive, but instead looked like they were in pain. “Great. When is the happy day?” They took a sip of their tea, and Hayden probably should have planned better timing.

  “Tomorrow.”

  Luce spat their tea so hard it actually sprayed Hayden’s face. “Tomorrow?”

  “Hey! That’s disgusting.” Hayden scrubbed at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Seriously, it smells herbal. Gross.”

  Luce was gawking at her. Their mouth hung open. “Tomorrow?”

  Hayden’s arm dropped back down to the table. “Yes, tomorrow. At City Hall.”

  “But… Why?” Luce’s eyebrows were bunched together so hard their forehead looked as if it was going to collapse in on itself.

  “Because we want to.”

  “But… What?”

  This was a nightmare. Maybe Hayden was going to wake up to find she’d fallen asleep on her sofa the night she’d had trouble sleeping. Maybe she had never found that advertisement Sam had put online.

  “Because. Just because. It’s what we want. I thought you were being supportive?”

  Opening their mouth, most likely to argue vehemently, Luce snapped it shut. “Fine. Tomorrow. Great. That makes complete and utter sense. I can’t think of anything better. Do you have an outfit?”

  Narrowing her eyes at the sarcasm that was thick over their words, Hayden shook her head. “Of course not. We’re being pretty private and low-key.”

  “Oh, how extreme and dramatic of me to think you would plan something for this wedding that is logical and that I understand completely. Sorry. Sometimes I overreact.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m not remotely trying to be.”

  “Look, we want to sign the paper and have it done.”

  “How romantic.”

  “Since when do you think things have to reach some quota of romance?”

  “Fair point. So I’m guessing you’re moving in to her place? Or are you guys getting something new—” Luce balked “—together?”

  “Why do you assume her place? What about mine?”

  Luce raised that one eyebrow at her. The gesture was getting pretty old at this point.

  “Yeah, okay, fine. I’m moving into her place. Tomorrow before work.”

  Hayden couldn’t place the look on Luce’s face, and for a second, she thought Luce wasn’t going to respond. “Hayden?” When they finally spoke, their tone was low. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  Their eyes were liquid worry. Something bubbled up in Hayden’s throat, and the lies she was about to force herself to say had become acrid as they coated her tongue. Other words, ones that would reveal the truth of it all, were building. Breathing too fast, Hayden pressed her lips together in a mockery of a smile and tried to press back casually in her chair. “Luce, of course I’m not. It’s nothing like
that.”

  Except that Hayden was so desperate for cash she’d accepted this absurd proposition.

  “Are you sure?”

  Luce was so amazing to even give her a second chance.

  Hayden dug deep to make what she was about to say convincing. “I am. Really.”

  They straightened. “Okay. Good to hear. So, from tomorrow you’ll be Mrs. Thomson?”

  “What? No? I’m not changing my name. Don’t be an idiot.”

  Changing her surname once had been enough of a pain; she wasn’t doing that again. Her current surname meant too much to her. A final up-yours to everything that had happened years ago.

  “Aw. Mrs. Dr. Thomson. It has a nice ring to it.”

  The grin and the lighter tone were making fun of Hayden, but she’d take it.

  “Not funny.” Even as Hayden said it, she was smiling.

  “Yeah it is. You could stay home and bake her cakes.”

  “If I want to poison her, sure.” Hayden was not a baker.

  “Oh!” Luce looked absolutely delighted now. “Is that your plan? Marry her, then poison her, and get all her millions when she dies? Is she secretly an heiress?”

  Hayden laughed. “Yes. That’s absolutely my plan. She’s actually got a huge, gigantic trust fund, and I’ve seduced her, made her marry me, and, when she least suspects it and enough time has passed to avoid suspicion, I’m going to kill her. In the least obvious way ever, like a poisoned cake.”

  “Or you could push her down the stairs.”

  “I could hire an assassin.”

  Luce flicked a rolled up sugar packet at her. “None of these are conspicuous at all. Your plan will go off without a hitch.”

  “Great. Will you help me hide the body?”

  “Hell no.”

  Hayden pouted. “But why not?”

  “Fine. If you split the cash with me.”

  “What kind of friend are you?”

  “The greedy kind.”

  Hayden threw the packet back at them. “Well, I knew that. Also, Sam would like to have dinner or drinks or something with you at some point.”

  “Seriously?” Luce’s eyes were wide.

  “Yeah. Seriously. Me too.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  There wasn’t much enthusiasm in Luce’s words. It was going to be a long year.

  ~ ~ ~

  It turned out that getting married was not a detailed affair.

  They waited two hours, chatting on and off about work, and Hayden tried not to chew her lip to shreds. A photographer Sam was paying waited with them. He would act as their witness and take photos to commemorate their romantic day.

  Hayden felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  She’d woken up after late-night bad TV and only four hours sleep. Hopefully, a nap at Sam’s later would get her through night shift. The first night of the run was always the worst.

  But when she’d woken up, her chest tight, lying there, it had slowly dawned on her what she was doing that day.

  Now, two hours into waiting, it was hard to resist the urge to run.

  “Can I speak with you?”

  And with Sam’s words, whatever calm Hayden had managed to bring forth evaporated.

  “Uh—sure.”

  But Sam was already up and walking away from the yawning photographer. Hayden followed, and they wove their way through the many people also waiting—some even in wedding attire. Hayden felt supremely underdressed in her black jeans and white dress shirt. Tucked away from everything, they huddled near a grimy wall.

  “Yeah?”

  Sam swallowed and glanced around them. Was she nervous too? Or nervous about whatever she was going to ask Hayden?

  “Hayden. I was wondering. Would, well…” she took a deep breath. “Would it be okay to kiss, for the photograph after we sign? I’ve checked the Internet. The entire process is only minutes. And then I can have the photograph?”

  Kiss? Like kiss? With lips? And tongue? Hayden’s face heated up so fast it was embarrassing. Would there be tongue? “Will you tell me now why you need the proof?”

  “No.” Sam’s voice was sharp. Her gaze flicked upward for a second, and she sucked in a breath before she looked back at Hayden, features minutely softer. “I told you. Not yet.”

  Hayden eyed her, arms crossed. “Yes. Okay. Of course. This is what we’ve been talking about. You can kiss me. We can kiss, I mean.”

  She felt fifteen. Maybe they would count down from three before they did it.

  “Okay. And I, uh, I bought these.” Sam held her hand out, and sitting in the center were two simple white gold rings. Hayden knew nothing about jewelry, but they seemed well-made. Not cheap, anyway.

  “Oh.”

  “I realize we should have talked about this. There’s probably a lot we’ve not talked about that we should have. But would you be opposed to wearing one?”

  They weren’t supposed to wear rings at work, but wedding rings were permitted. And it made sense if they wore them, for whatever it was that Sam was trying to achieve. But even the idea made Hayden’s skin crawl. This was why she didn’t like marriage. Well, it was one of the many reasons. Why did people feel as if they had to wear something to show they were married? Why did they have to prove it? Like they were owned?

  “No.” Hayden tried to sound as if she meant it. “If it helps all this, no.”

  “Okay.” Sam slipped the rings back in her pocket. “Okay.”

  “Number twenty-nine,” a robotic voice called out.

  Was Hayden mistaken, or did Sam tense?

  “That’s us,” Hayden said.

  Sam gave a nod. “Let’s go.”

  Sam turned to go, and Hayden reached out and grabbed her hand. She quickly let go again as a thought occurred to her, though the surprise at how soft Sam’s hand was echoed in the back of her mind. “Wait.”

  Sam turned back, shoulders stiff. “Yes?”

  Hayden grinned and tried to block out the rising panic. “Let’s walk in like we’re ecstatic.”

  “What?” Sam looked at Hayden as if she were making no sense.

  “We’re doing this for stupid reasons. But you have a photographer, so let’s smile and laugh and pretend it’s what we want. Pretend I’m Angelina Jolie.”

  Sam’s lips twitched. “I’m not that interested in her.”

  “Jodie Foster?”

  “No. But I wouldn’t kick her out of bed.”

  The words sounded a little stilted, like Sam knew they weren’t natural for her to say, but nevertheless, Hayden let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Well, that works,” she said.

  Sam turned, and Hayden followed, the photographer stepping into line with them.

  And so they got married. Both trying not to laugh. With Hayden still unable to breathe properly, but smiling. And maybe they would look like they were happy in the photographs, when really, they were—or, at least, Hayden was—bordering on slightly hysterical.

  The Justice of the Peace said some words that hardly registered. It really did only take minutes. Then there were the rings, their fingers trembling as they slid them on. It felt strangely heavy and uncomfortable on Hayden’s finger. Then she looked up, and their eyes locked. Her cheeks were burning. Sam was incredibly pale.

  “And we’re done, ladies. Congratulations,” the Justice of the Peace said. With her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Hayden turned to watch as he pushed his stamp down onto several sheets of paper. “Now’s the moment, if you want your perfect photo.”

  Hayden swallowed and looked back at Sam, who seemed to be unable to move, and was staring at her with wide eyes. In her peripheral vision, Hayden saw the photographer raise his camera. Everything seemed too slow and too fast and yet, still, Sam just stood, unmoving.

  One kiss. It was nothing. Hayden had had multiple silly kisses, be they laced with alcohol or at the ends of dates that she didn’t plan to repeat. She wasn’t a teenager. This didn’t have to be weird.

  So Hayden surged forward
, her fingers gripping the lapels of Sam’s tailored jacket, and tugged. She pushed up on her tiptoes, and their lips almost crashed together.

  Too hard. She’d misjudged it. She felt a puff of air against her cheek where Sam exhaled in surprise and, despite herself, Hayden chuckled against Sam’s mouth. The ridiculousness of the situation must have hit Sam, because so did she, her lips curving against Hayden’s. Hands rested tensely against her hips, and Hayden tilted her head up, kissing her once more, properly. Chastely, really. Sam’s lips were soft, and they moved against Hayden’s a little before they both pulled back.

  “Okay, sign here, and if your witness could too.”

  Hayden stepped back, her hands falling away. She tried not to think about the fact that her lips tingled. She’d just kissed Samantha Thomson.

  Actually, screw that. She’d just married Samantha Thomson.

  Whose cheeks were now pink.

  The photographer came forward, and Sam was signing on various dotted lines and a pen was in Hayden’s fingers.

  With her stomach full of butterflies or wriggling worms or something equally strange, Hayden took a deep breath.

  She signed on the dotted line.

  And that was it.

  A giant blur of words, a kiss that lasted two seconds—both of which had been weird—and they were ejected into the overcrowded street, Sam clutching their marriage certificate, and both of them blinking at the shock of it.

  Hayden was married.

  CHAPTER 9

  Sam’s apartment building had a doorman.

  A very nice doorman who helped Hayden bring up her three giant suitcases, one plastic bag full of cat things, and her growling, angry cat. Sam’s building had a doorman. If that alone wasn’t terrifying, Hayden didn’t know what was. She smiled awkwardly at him as he tipped his hat—people did that?—and disappeared into the elevator.

  Leaving Hayden in the hallway, to stare at the door in front of her, surrounded by her bags.

  Frank growled.

  “Same, Frank. Same.”

  He meowed so loudly that Hayden was surprised someone didn’t poke their head out of the opposite apartment and yell at her.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to open the door.