The Shacking Up Series

by Helena Hunting

  She clasps her hands in front of her chest and drops her head. “I’m sorry.”

  I ignore the apology. “What’re you still doing here?”

  She lifts a shoulder. It’s cold and she’s not dressed appropriately for the weather. The shawl covering her arms does nothing to stop the wind blowing up her too-short skirt. “My parents left without me. I thought maybe I should wait for you . . . but that was probably a bad idea, huh?”

  I take a deep breath. A headache knocks against my temples. “Yes, it was a bad idea, Brittany. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused tonight?”

  She fidgets a little with her purse and her hair, then sighs before she says something that makes me hate Armstrong even more. “Armstrong said he could help me get a modeling contract through Moorehead Media.” She rushes on. “No one was ever supposed to find out, and no one is ever really faithful anymore, and it’s not like you were all that interested tonight what with how mopey you were. And then you just up and disappeared after dinner, so I took the opportunity. I didn’t mean to ruin the wedding.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Armstrong and Brittany definitely deserve each other. I really don’t have the energy to manage this situation right now. My anger is too big, and if Brittany keeps talking I’m going to say something regrettable. “You should go home.”

  I take her by the elbow and lead her to a waiting cab. I open the door and motion for her to get in. She slides over as if I’m joining her. “You have a credit card to pay for this?” I ask.

  “So you’re not coming with me?”

  “No, Brittany.”

  “Why not?”

  I rub the space between my eyes. “Do you honestly need to ask?”

  She adjusts her skirt so she’s not at risk of flashing me or the cab driver. “But Armstrong said you wouldn’t care.”

  I bark out a laugh. “You blew the groom at a wedding that wasn’t yours. Even if I didn’t care, what you’ve done is morally reprehensible.”

  Her brow furrows. I assume it’s because I’ve used a word that has far too many syllables. She cocks her head to the side, her gaze focused on my neck. “Is that a hickey?”

  “Good night, Brittany.” I slam the door and knock on the roof, then drop into the backseat of my own waiting car. This has been a miserable night, and I feel like the coming days are going to be more of the same until I’m out of the country and away from Armstrong’s drama. I wonder if it’s going to be as easy for Amalie.

  Five: Anti-Honeymoon

  Amie

  I think I’ve cried more in the past three hours than I have in my entire life. What’s most telling is that my tears are primarily over how I’m going to manage this humiliation, not that Armstrong cheated on me. I think it might be shock. I’m sitting in Ruby and Bane’s living room nursing a glass of Perrier.

  My luggage had been in the bridal suite, still waiting to be brought to our honeymoon penthouse for the night, but we’d run out of time and I’d forgotten to ask someone to take it up. Turns out that was for the best. Bane grabbed the luggage when he left the hotel and brought it back here.

  Ruby felt her and Bane’s place would be a safer bet than mine, since there’s security and a doorman to prevent Armstrong from gaining access. And then there’s Bane, of course, who seems to be more than happy to act as my bodyguard.

  Armstrong has been texting me incessantly. The messages have grown increasingly desperate over the past couple of hours.

  The latest ones read:

  Please respond, Amalie, we need to discuss how to manage this misunderstanding.

  I’m certain we can find a reasonable way to handle this if you’ll just answer me.

  We need to present a united front to alleviate the negative media attention.

  I’m at your apartment but since you never gave me a key I can’t get in.

  He’s never had a key because he never wanted to come to my apartment on account of the lack of amenities. I don’t respond, but a few minutes later I receive another series of messages:

  I can see that you’re reading my messages. Are you home? Can you hear me knocking?

  Where are you? Why aren’t you home yet?

  We need to talk.

  This wasn’t intentional.

  The police are here. Did you call them? For God’s sake, Amalie, answer me!

  I toss my phone on the couch and sigh. In the few hours I’ve been at Ruby’s I’ve only spoken to my mother, and very briefly. I was surprised, and relieved, when she didn’t mention forgiving Armstrong for his transgression even once during our conversation. She only wanted to know if I was safe, and to make sure I wasn’t with that “perverted liar of a husband.”

  She also wanted to come to me, but I told her I’d be okay, and that I’d call her in the morning. When I asked where Dad was she mumbled something about the hotel bar. I sincerely hope this doesn’t result in another one of my father’s extended business trips or a monthlong excursion to a relaxation spa for my mother.

  They’ve been off and on for as long as I can remember, but this wedding has been something that united them. They’d been so supportive of what they believed was a good choice for my future.

  Any kind of stress is bad for my mother’s health and I worry that this could have some kind of ripple effect. Not that there’s anything I can reasonably do to prevent it now. It’s my own mess of a life I’m going to have to focus on.

  I rest my forehead on my knee. “I can’t believe I threw myself at Lexington.”

  “I’m sure you’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

  “That makes me feel so much better.” I huff a laugh, then shiver at the memory of the way I’d taken him to the ground and straddled him. At the way he’d flipped me over and tried to stop me. I’d felt him, against my palm and between my legs. He’d been hard. And big. Big and hard. He’s a big man all over. I never really considered how big until he was on top of me.

  His words ping-pong around in my head. No was the very last thing I wanted to say to you. I can’t imagine he meant it. I seriously must’ve had a complete mental break to act the way I did.

  “You were pretty upset.”

  “I cut a fifteen-thousand-dollar dress in half.” In all fairness, I’d wanted something vintage and off the rack, but Armstrong and Gwendolyn were totally against it, so I’d ended up with an overly poofy, excessively expensive dress.

  Ruby pets my hair. “It was a very Anarchy Amie thing to do, and understandable, considering.”

  I lost that nickname, for the most part, when I started dating Armstrong. It came on the heels of my sometimes unruly behavior as a teen. I had a tendency to get into trouble. Often it was directly related to the boys I liked to date. Once my parents went away for a weekend and the guy I was seeing at the time thought we should throw a house party. It wasn’t the first and it wouldn’t be the last either. It seemed like a good idea—until it went viral and my entire school population showed up—along with some college boy who’d been chatting me up on social media. That was a messy night.

  The nickname was well earned over the years considering all the stunts I’d pulled. I discovered that when I caused trouble during one of their business trips/spa escapes, my parents would be forced to cut the trip short so they could deal with me. It was definitely a classic case of me seeking my parents’ attention. It resulted in a couple of near expulsions from school, a slew of boyfriends who I assume all ended up in prison, and several parties where the police were called.

  But I’m an adult now, and I don’t want my own police record—which almost happened with my most recent ex. I never wanted to see or experience that kind of disappointment from my family again, so I tried to be a better, less rebellious version of myself.

  After the almost-arrest in the Mexico airport, I felt like if I picked someone good, someone they’d approve of, I could undo some of the damage that last relationship had caused and make them proud again. They’d been so exc
ited for the wedding, and it made me feel like I was doing the right thing. I don’t want this failure to affect them negatively, but if I’m honest, it felt good to cut that stupid fucking dress in half. Freeing, really. I hated it. The frills, the lace-up back, the poof—none of it was for me. All of it was for someone else.

  I peek up at Ruby. My head is all over the place. I don’t know how to deal with all of these conflicting emotions, the ones I’ve been fighting this entire time. The ones I’m going to have to face now that my future has been blown apart by public fellatio.

  “I’m going to have to annul this marriage.”

  Ruby rubs my back soothingly. “Can Pierce help with the annulment? Can you call him in the morning and get the paperwork started?”

  “I’m pretty sure. He’s not a divorce attorney, but someone at his firm can probably help. Oh my God, what am I going to do about my job?” Maybe I need something stronger than Perrier.

  There’s no way I can go back to Moorehead Media after this. I’ve sustained enough humiliation where Armstrong is concerned.

  “Let’s just deal with one thing at a time. That’s not something you need to think about right now. You have weeks to figure that out.”

  She’s right, but thinking about my job is easier than thinking about how all of my choices over the past year lead to the horror of this night. “I can’t believe this happened. Or maybe I can. I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just before Armstrong asked me to marry him, I told my mom I wasn’t sure about my feelings for him.”

  The briefest flash of hurt passes across Ruby’s face. Of all the people I should’ve had that conversation with, it’s her. But then maybe her honesty was what I’d been afraid of. “What did she say?”

  “No relationship is perfect. She said it was probably because he was so different from what I was used to, and that we’d have a stable life, and wasn’t that what I wanted? I thought it was. I thought I could make it work and it didn’t even last a night.” Tears well and spill over, coasting down my cheeks. My eyes are swollen and red. Cucumber slices and tea bag compresses will not make this go away—not outside or inside.

  Ruby wraps her arms around me, which makes the tears fall even faster. “He’s an idiot and your mom probably isn’t the best judge of stable relationships.”

  “I know. I just thought it would be better. I really thought it was going to be good for me to have this one person who I could manage all the hard stuff with, but this is just . . . way worse than any of the other guys I dated. At least I had no expectations then. Maybe I’m destined to wind up with an asshole for life. Maybe my good-man radar is broken.”

  “I don’t think it’s broken, Amie, I just think you’ve spent so much time dating guys you have no intention of getting serious with that you don’t even know what to look for, or what you want. Look at it this way, at least this happened before you merged your lives. An annulment is much easier than a divorce a year down the road.”

  She’s right. As supportive as she’s been, Ruby has always been wary of Armstrong. It’s clear now that she was right; my cold feet and concerns were warranted. I shouldn’t have brushed it off the way I did. “I don’t even get to have my honeymoon.” I picked the most amazing location. It was the only part of this entire wedding that was my choice. Armstrong wasn’t completely sold, but then I gave him an outstanding blow job and he relented. Mostly—he didn’t like the resort so I compromised on that. Penisface. Seems like oral must be his Achilles’ heel.

  She leans back, pensive. “Who says you can’t have it?”

  I snort at the ludicrousness of the idea. “As if I’m going to fly halfway around the world by myself.”

  “Why not?” She motions to my luggage. “You’re already packed and you have the time off. Why not go?”

  “On my own?” I’ve never traveled anywhere on my own, not like this. Even when I moved to New York, I didn’t come alone—Ruby was with me.

  “You took time off work, you don’t have anything keeping you here. It could be good to get some distance from all of this.”

  “Won’t I just be avoiding? What about the fallout?”

  Ruby gives me a sympathetic smile. “The fallout is Armstrong’s to deal with, so let him. I don’t think it’s avoiding, I think it’s circumventing. It’s better than being bombarded with all the gossip and stupidity. Going away would be good for you because it’ll force him to manage his own shitty behavior.”

  I consider this. The aftermath is going to be brutal, I’m sure. The rumors will be vile at best. I don’t want to deal with that on top of everything else. Fuck Armstrong. Fuck everyone. If anyone deserves a honeymoon it’s me, even if it doesn’t include a groom. “So I’ll go on my own.”

  She squeezes my shoulder. “If I could take three weeks off, I would go with you.”

  “I know.” Ruby’s in theater, and her schedule doesn’t allow her to take these kinds of vacations on a whim. “What if Armstrong tries to come?” It’s definitely something he’s likely to attempt based on the number of calls and messages he’s sent tonight.

  Ruby grins. “Don’t you have his passport?”

  I perk up. “I do.” Along with all of our travel documents. Everything for the trip was left up to me to manage. “But what if he shows up at the airport?”

  “Reschedule your flight. Give yourself a couple of days to get the annulment under way and lay low here, then you can go feeling like things are at least partway resolved.”

  “That’s a good idea. I definitely don’t want that hanging over my head while I’m lying on a beach.”

  “Agreed. I really think you should do this, Amie. You need this. Time away. Armstrong was such a wet blanket for you.” Her smile grows. “Let Anarchy Amie out of the cage for a few weeks. Get reacquainted with your wild side. Hook up with some random island hottie. Hook up with more than one. Life will still be waiting for you to sort out when you get back.”

  She’s absolutely right. Making what I thought was the right decision backfired completely. Whether I deal with the consequences of this failed wedding now or later is irrelevant. There’s no way I’ll be able to gain any kind of perspective if I stay in New York. There are just too many things to worry about.

  “I guess it’s decided. I’m going on my honeymoon.”

  Alone. But it’s better than being here, with another one of my mistakes hanging over my head.

  * * *

  The next day I reschedule my flight, cancel Armstrong’s, confirm my reservation for the hotel—which is in my name, but paid in full by Armstrong, which I think is still reasonable since he’s the one who messed this up.

  Two days post–wedding humiliation, Pierce comes by Bane’s condo to start the paperwork. He’s come straight from work, fitting me in between meetings, his gray suit jacket still buttoned. His forest green tie almost matches his eyes. His sandy hair is the only thing about him that isn’t perfectly put together. The cowlick at the front has succumbed to the elements, curling over his forehead. Of my two brothers, he’s the most buttoned up.

  While he’s not generally a big hugger, I find myself wrapped up in his embrace for several long seconds, enough that I’m at risk of crying again.

  I push away, and take a deep breath, hoping to keep my emotions in check while he’s here. The last time he saw me cry was after the Mexico fiasco when Dad needed his legal advice. I’d like to avoid that now. “Thanks for coming, I know you’re busy.”

  He regards me with affectionate sympathy. “Never too busy for my little sister. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one who broke that shit stain’s nose.”

  “I think there might be a line for that, and I’ll be at the front of it.”

  “I would hold his arms and get you a set of brass knuckles.”

  “That would qualify you for the Brother of the Year Award.” I gesture to the dining room table. “Why don’t you have a seat and we can figure out how to get me out of yet another mess
.”

  I pour him a glass of scotch and myself a glass of red wine, despite it barely being noon.

  Pierce pulls a bunch of papers out of his briefcase, and separates them into piles. “We have a couple of options.”

  “Whatever is easiest and quickest, I want this over with as soon as possible.”

  “Divorce could be quick.”

  I flinch—divorce is such an ugly word in our world. “He cheated on me less than twelve hours into our marriage. It hasn’t and won’t ever be consummated.”

  He clears his throat and taps his pen on the table. “Right. Okay. So we’ll proceed with the annulment, which is option two. We’ll cite it as fraudulent, since he entered the marriage without the intention of upholding fidelity.”

  I snort. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Is there an option three?”

  “Hire a hitman and dump the body in the river, but there’s a lot of loose ends there and it’s sort of a legal nightmare.”

  I smile at his horrible attempt at legal humor. “Let’s go with option two, shall we?”

  It turns out to be fairly straightforward, so I’m able to sign before I leave.

  His team just needs to get the documents into Armstrong’s hands so he can sign and then it will be done. I won’t be married anymore. I’m not sure he’s going to make it that easy though, considering the number of calls and texts he’s sent since I left him in the parking lot.

  Most of them are requests to speak, a few cite his frustration with being ignored, and a voicemail details his experience waiting to have his nose set by a plastic surgeon. He also expresses his displeasure at finding out his flight was canceled and says that he would like his passport. Not once does he apologize. No I’m sorry. No Please forgive me. Well, fuck that and fuck him.

  So it’s with very little in the way of remorse and all the middle fingers in the world pointed in his direction that I head to the airport a few days following the freak show that was my wedding. Bane and Ruby accompany me, but I’m still paranoid that Armstrong is going to magically show up, so I’m sweaty and distracted by the time I’m finished checking all but my carry-on.