by Hamel, B. B.
“I know I’m right. I haven’t been as involved, and I’m sorry about that, but Whitney…”
Dad coughs a bit and goes quiet. I watch him and wonder if he lost it again, if this is the best I’ll get today.
“Whitney is limited,” he says finally. “You always were the clever one.”
“I know,” I say, smiling despite myself. Even after all these years, a compliment from Dad is worth more than anything.
He sighs. “Okay then, Everest,” he says. “I’ll leave it to you.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Really?”
“Under one condition.”
I stare at him, heart beating wildly.
I never expected this, not in a million years. I figured he’d laugh me off, and I’d have to try again, and again, and again, and maybe even get Amy in here to help. I figured I’d wear him down, or he’d die before I’d get the chance.
Fuck, I’m a bad person. But there’s not much else I can do.
Still though, he’s offering it to me. Right here and right now. I can hardly believe it.
“What is it?” I ask.
He smirks at me. “Stay married for one year.”
I stare. “What?”
“Stay married to Amy for one year. No cheating, no divorcing, none of that. And you have to work at the company during that time. No running around, doing whatever you want. Nine to five, day in and day out. You do that, you stay married, and the company is yours.”
I stare, a million thoughts running through my mind. My elation slowly dies down as the reality settles in.
One year. That means Amy has to stay my wife for a whole year. She’ll lose a year of her life to this, and probably much more. I was thinking months at most, then we’d divorce, and she’d get some fat paycheck from me. But a year, minimum? And no cheating, no bullshitting, just honest work and an honest marriage.
Fuck.
“I can do it,” I say softly.
“Can you?” He laughs. “Okay. Prove it.”
“How?”
“I’ll have it written up into my will. If I don’t live to see the day, at least my lawyers will.” He cackles at his stupid joke and ends up coughing.
“Okay,” I say and slowly stand. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
“Good,” he says softly, and he actually smiles. “I bet you will. You always were the clever one.”
I nod at him and turn away. I leave my father, old and frail and a shadow of his former self, alone in his hospital bed.
Amy and my mother are waiting right outside. “How is he today?” Mom asks me.
“Good,” I say softly. “You should go in.”
She nods, squeezes my hand, and slips past me. She shuts the door behind her.
Amy stares at me, concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks softly.
“Yeah,” I grunt at her. “I’m good.”
“What happened? You look… spooked.”
I force a smile and step closer to her. “Think you can deal with me for a full year?”
She bites her lip. “What?”
“That’s his deal. If we can stay married for a year, he says I can have the company.”
She stares at me, eyes wide. “That’s… huge.”
“I now. Can you do it? One full year?”
“Ever, of course!”
“Are you sure?” I ask, stepping close. I take her by the shoulders and stare at her. “Think about this. We have to fake this for a whole year. Maybe longer, depending. Who knows what’ll happen between now and then. One full year, you and me, every night…” I trail off.
She’s blushing. Oh, shit. She’s blushing and thinking about last night.
“I can do it,” she says.
I take a breath and slowly let it out. “Okay,” I say, almost regretful. “We’ll do it.”
She gives me a long look that I can’t read, but I don’t stare at her for too long. I can’t make myself look at her.
I’m too ashamed that I’m asking this of her. And I’m too ashamed of the way I keep thinking about her body under mine, sweating and writhing and moaning.
Fuck, one year. This is going to be the hardest, best year of my life.
5
Amy
Just when I think things will be okay, maybe things will be just fine, maybe Ever’s going to come through, the floor falls out from under me.
Well, not instantly. It’s more like a slow motion fall, so slow that I don’t even notice it at first.
We drive back into the city together, and things feel normal. Not like we’re married and sleeping together, but like we’re just friends again. It feels good to laugh with him, to talk about old friends, to talk about nothing as we speed down the highway.
Back in the city, he dropped me at my place. “I’ll see you later, wifey,” he said to me.
“Where are you disappearing to?” I asked him.
He hesitated, gave me this strange look, and just shook his head. “I’ll see you later.”
I remember watching him drive off and wondering what that look meant. Now, I wish I had stopped him.
He didn’t call that night or the next day. I figured, okay, no big deal. He’s just busy with whatever. I went about my life, trying to pretend like everything’s normal and fine, like I didn’t make the most insane decision of my entire life recently.
The days ticked past. I kept thinking, oh, he’ll call, he’ll show up. I kept thinking, he’s my husband now, even if it is fake. He wouldn’t just abandon me.
Two weeks later, and I’m starting to think he’s never coming back.
That’s not the worst part though.
I thought it couldn’t get worse. I mean, I married the biggest fucking asshole in the entire world. I married a man that would up and abandon me after the wedding, after sleeping with me, after potentially ruining our friendship. I married the kind of egomaniacal scumbag that I thought only existed in stories.
But to top it all off, my period’s late.
I keep lying to myself as the days pass. I keep thinking, oh, it’ll come. Ever will come home and call me and I’ll get my period and the world will be okay again.
Except neither of those things happen and finally, after three weeks of waiting, I take a pregnancy test.
* * *
I stare at the little blue positive symbol. I stare at it for maybe twenty minutes, not moving, not daring to move a muscle. I keep thinking it’ll change back.
But it doesn’t change back.
So, I take another, and another, and they all say the same thing.
I’m pregnant. I’m fucking pregnant.
And I know who the father is.
Fucking hell. I sink onto the cold bathroom floor and feel the tiles under my fingers, wondering what the hell I’m going to do.
My so-called husband is nowhere to be seen. Ever disappearing for weeks at a time isn’t exactly unheard of, but I thought things might be different this time, since we’re in this thing together. But no, apparently that’s not how it works. Apparently, Ever doesn’t care about anything but himself.
I’m so angry I can barely breathe. I’m sinking into a deep black pit, pregnant and alone and married to my best friend and so terrified I can barely move a muscle.
I think it’s the lowest point of my entire life.
But I drag myself up off that floor. I go into the kitchen. And I call Ever’s phone.
It goes to voicemail, of course. I don’t leave a message. Instead, I make myself something to eat and I think seriously about what the hell I’m going to do.
I never wanted a baby. I never really thought about it, though, to be totally honest. I figured it was something that would happen to a future version of myself, one in a relationship with a man that actually wanted children.
But that’s not how it happened. I got pregnant by accident by the worst person I’ve ever met, who happens to be my husband and also my best friend.
I’ve lived a fucked-up life.
I could sell a book about this fucked-up situation, if I could ever tell anyone about it.
I sigh and eat. After I’m done eating, I call Ever again, get his voicemail, and hang up without leaving a message.
I don’t know what I’d say, anyway.
I go on like that for two more days. Two days, the weight of the pregnancy hanging over my, the anxiety of missing Ever getting worse and worse, until finally, one night, a little past seven, someone knocks at my door
I hesitate, staring for a second. I’m not expecting a package or anything like that. I get up and walk quickly over and slowly pull it open.
And there he is. Everest Bloom, smiling like he didn’t just put me through the three worst weeks of my entire life.
“Hey, kid,” he says. “How’s my favorite wife?” I stare at him and his smile slips. “What?”
“What?” I step into the hall and I slap him in the face.
He blinks, shocked surprise registering. I put my hands to my mouth, gasping. I can’t believe I just hit him. I mean, I’ve been thinking about hitting him this whole time, but I’m not the violent type.
Or apparently I am. Good to know, I guess.
“Wow, okay,” he says, sighing. “I guess I deserved that.”
“You disappeared for weeks,” I hiss at him. “You left me here without a word. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I know,” he says, looking away.
“You asshole. I can’t believe you did that. Actually, no, I can totally believe it, because you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”
He can’t meet my gaze now. “Can I come in?” he asks softly.
I clench my fists but nod. We step into my apartment and I slam the door.
“Explain,” I say to him.
He turns to me. “Look, Amy. I know it’s fucked what I did, but… I wasn’t in a good place.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I step toward him, shivering with rage again. “Not in a good place? You left me, you asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But I had to take care of something.”
“Take care of what?”
“I was in rehab for a week.”
I stop in my tracks for a second, reeling a little bit. “Rehab?” I ask.
He nods. “Just a short stay. I’m not, like, all fucked up. I’m not a junky. But I’ve been partying and drinking and doing coke my whole fucking life and I need to prove to myself that I won’t just keep being a stupid asshole.”
“So, you went to rehab?” I ask him, still pissed, but a little softer.
He sighs. “I know. It’s stupid.”
“Did it help?”
“Yeah, it really did.” He walks over to my kitchen counter and leans up against it. “I kind of hate to admit it, but yeah.”
“Okay, so you went to rehab for a week. You could’ve told me that.”
“I know. I should’ve, I just… I was ashamed, okay? I’m fucking embarrassed. I mean, rehab? Jesus, how pathetic am I?”
I clench my jaw. “Pretty pathetic.” I’m not about to make him feel better.
He flinches. “I deserved that, I guess.”
“You were there for a week. But it’s been three.”
He brightens up a little bit at that. “Ah, well, okay. So, I did something else for the past two weeks.”
“I figured,” I say, barely containing my rage again. I’m so tempted to scream about the pregnancy, just shout it in his face and see how he likes it, but I hold myself back.
“I don’t think I can tell you about it,” he says.
“You better.”
“I need to show you.”
I frown, trying to loosen some of my angry tension. It’s not going to help if I flip out at him.
“Can you just be honest for once in your life, Ever?”
“I am,” he says softly, walking over to me. “Look, I know I fucked up leaving for three weeks, but I started this thing and I had this idea and… well, I just need to show you, okay?”
I think about those pregnancy tests in my trashcan.
“When?” I ask.
“Right now,” he says.
“Right… now,” I echo. “Where?”
“I’ll drive you there. You should probably get changed. And uh… pack a bag.”
“Pack… a bag?”
“Yeah.” He laughs, grinning now. “Come on. You’ll like it.”
“I don’t like anything about you right now, Ever.”
“I know. But trust me. I know it’s fucked that I ditched you for three weeks, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”
I stare at his earnest face, his handsome eyes, his enormous muscular body, and I can’t help myself. I never can help myself with Ever.
He always makes my anger go away. It doesn’t matter what he does, he has this thing about him. I can’t stop myself when he’s around. It’s like nothing he does is ever bad enough to stay mad about.
“Fine,” I say. “How much do I need to pack?”
“Uh, I don’t know. A few days, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Three days,” he says quickly. “I promise, it’ll be great.”
“You leave for three weeks and now you show up out of the blue and want to take me somewhere for three days?” I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
He steps toward me, staring at me with this intense expression. “Amy, I’m trying to be better.”
“Then be better. Tell me what’s going on.”
He walks right up to me, not stopping, not hesitating. He pulls me close against him and presses his lips against mine.
I kiss him back, almost by reflex. I can’t help myself, he’s too gorgeous, he’s too perfect. As much as I hate him right now, I want to taste him just as badly.
I missed him so much. I was so alone, so afraid, but now he’s back. Now he’s here and he’s kissing me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, slowly breaking away. “I know I shouldn’t do that. I just need you to understand how serious I am.”
“Serious about what?”
“Just come with me. I promise, it’ll all make sense.”
I stare at him, stare at the man I married and at the father of the baby growing inside of me.
And I can’t help it. I sigh and I nod.
“Good,” he says, grinning. “Now go get packed.”
I turn away from him, body trembling slightly. I walk back toward my bedroom, eyes glancing at the bathroom as I pass it, and the pregnancy tests still in the trash in there.
I should tell him right now. I should tell him the truth.
But that kiss… it lingers on my lips, and I know I can’t bring myself to say it right now.
I’ll tell him soon. I know I will. I just need time to process all of this.
I’ll tell him the truth as soon as I can.
6
Ever
God, I know I’m a bastard, but this is bad even for me.
I shouldn’t have disappeared like that. At the time, I thought I was just being normal, you know, just respecting her space. I wouldn’t have called before the wedding and I figured I didn’t need to call after it.
But of course, that was stupid. I married the fucking girl, my best friend. I kissed her, I fucked her. I came deep inside that incredible little cunt. I can’t just walk away from her right now. She’s lost and angry and alone and probably assumed I was out whoring and drinking and being a fucking shit.
I wasn’t doing any of those things. I told her the truth. I really was in rehab for a week. I got myself straightened up and then I did something else. Something for her.
We drive a few hours outside of the city. She’s annoyed with me at first but slowly she loosens up as the miles tick past. She keeps glancing in my direction, wondering where the hell I’m taking her, and the excitement inside of me keeps building.
I can’t wait for her to fucking see it.
We slowly move into the mountains. I take her thro
ugh this little town near the family cabin and head up some switchbacks into the hills. I take this steep dirt path that winds through the trees and suddenly, around a sharp bend, we pull into the driveway.
The cabin sits on a few acres of land in the middle of the forest. The view out the back is basically the entire valley. We’re on the other side, across from the family cabin, about twenty minutes away.
But this place is all for her.
I stop the car. “Here we are,” I say.
“And where are we exactly?”
“Your house.” I climb out of the car before she can say anything.
She follows, an angry looks in her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Come on,” I say. “I want you to see the inside.”
The outside of the cabin itself was in good shape when I bought it. Not enormous, just three bathrooms and four bedrooms, no bigger than any upper middle class house. It needed some cosmetics, but the bones were in the good shape.
The inside, though, that got the brunt of my efforts.
I unlock the door and lead her inside. I flip the switch and the light fills the space.
She looks around. “Wow,” she says softly.
The cabin is open and modern. I used all new materials, the best of everything I could get my hands on. I paid double for a bunch of guys to come and help me basically renovate the entire inside over the last two weeks, working around the clock to get it finished.
And I have to say, it looks amazing.
High ceilings, totally refinished. New moulding, new kitchen, new living room, new everything. I just barely had time to get the bare minimum of furniture, so the place is more or less a blank canvas for her at this point, but still.
“What is this?” she asks softly.
“It’s yours,” I say. “Well, it’s ours. I figured, if we’re married, we should have our own house.”
She looks at me, eyes wide. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. And when this is all over, you can keep it, if you want it.”
“Ever,” she says, shaking her head. “I told you, I don’t want you to pay me.”
“It’s not payment. It’s what you deserve.” I take her hand. “Come on.”