Marry Me

by Bishop, Alexandria

  Giselle: That’s up to you. I refuse to have any feelings on the matter. If you show up, great. If not, that’s fine too.

  My hand flies to my chest as my knees buckle and I pull out a stool at the bar to sit down. Her indifference feels like a direct hit to my heart and I don’t know how we got so off course. Giselle and I have always had a passionate relationship even before we crossed the line and fell into bed together. Our banter has always been one of my favorite things about us. But now it’s like she has lost the will to even care.

  What am I going to do now?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Giselle

  “Yeah, partying with my girls!” I take another shot of tequila and swallow down every doubt I have along with the strong liquor. A shudder travels down my spine and I let out a small “Woohoo” as I suck on a very tart lime. I’ve become one of those girls, and I can’t believe that just happened.

  We had an early dinner and decided to come to this seedy bar Tara used to frequent when she was in college. It’s been at least a decade since the last time she was here, but she said the drinks were cheap and the music was good. Fortunately, she was correct about both things. Tonight is eighties night, so we’ve pretty much been up and dancing all night long.

  Fuck it.

  I’m still thinking, so that means I’m in need of another shot. I swipe one out of Tinley’s hand just as she’s about to take it and beat her to it. I know tomorrow is going to suck so hard when I’m completely hungover as I walk down the aisle. Then again, I might still be shit-faced.

  “Hey, I was going to drink that,” my sister-in-law yells at me as I slam the glass down onto the table.

  Popping the lime into my mouth, I offer an open-mouthed grin as I shove the little wedge in front of my teeth like a child. Yes, I’ve resorted to acting completely childish to fight off my anxiety about my wedding day. It’s fine; everyone has cold feet the day before they get married. It’s normal and everyone understands—I’m sure of it.

  Then again, not everyone has another man waiting in the wings to swoop in and steal the bride away from her special day, so maybe my situation isn’t that normal after all.

  I really need to… My thoughts trail off as the song switches over and I yell out, “C’mon ladies, we HAVE to dance to this song!”

  They all scream as we run out to the dance floor and shake our asses to “Girls, Girls, Girls” by Mötley Crüe. Oh yeah, this is exactly what I needed tonight—hanging out with my girls and just letting go.

  I flip my hair around and really get into it as Dakota sidles up to me. She gets up in my face and yells over the music, saying, “Don’t look now, babe, but a hottie at six o’clock is totally checking you out.”

  “Where?” I ask as I whip my head around.

  “I said don’t look! Geez, don’t you listen?” If she tells me not to look, of course that’s the first thing I’m going to do. Rolling my eyes, I continue dancing, and she tells me, “Okay look, but don’t really look.”

  Oh my gosh, could she be any more ridiculous? I spin myself so it looks like I’m just dancing around then lift my head slightly and look in the direction she motioned toward. There’s a pretty clean-cut guy standing next to the bar and facing our way. He’s looking down at his cell phone and scrolling. He’s a little bit leaner than I like with his skinny jeans and a very tight white leather motorcycle jacket. On the bar next to him is a helmet, and he takes a pull off the bottle of beer in his hand. Judging by his look, I’d say he probably has a Suzuki outside rather than a Harley.

  He’s cute in that Abercrombie sort of way, but definitely not for me. I have enough male drama in my life without adding in some new guy at the bar. I flip back around and dance, facing Dakota again.

  She grabs my arm and pulls me off the dance floor as the song ends. “Holy shit, I’m pretty sure he was snapping pictures of you. He shall henceforth forever be known as Covert Motorcycle Cutie.”

  I shake my head. No, there’s no way. I would have noticed if he was doing something like that, right?

  We fall back into the booth we commandeered when we got here, and my eyes go wide. “Oh my gosh. You guys, do you think…” I drop my voice down to a whisper. “Do you think he was adding my pictures to his spank bank?”

  Dakota leans her head back, laughing with everything she has in her. I want to punch the smug look right off her face, and I lift another shot to my mouth, welcoming the burn as it travels down my body.

  “That’s exactly what he was doing, babe. That guy is probably gonna go home and wank it to not-so-discrete pictures he took of you. How does that make you feel?”

  I’m not really sure how that makes me feel. I’m not vain, but every time I’ve posted a picture online, it has always crossed my mind to wonder if someone is saving it and if they’re doing unsavory things with it. I try not to go there because it kind of grosses me out, but I can’t rule out the possibility.

  “Speaking of cocks, you have to tell us how big Wren’s is.” Dakota holds up her hands at least a foot apart and slowly brings them together before spreading them apart again. “C’mon Giselle, spill the tea, girl. We need the deets.”

  I pick up my glass while motioning for the waitress to come by. There’s no way in hell I’m going to answer that question, and I’m definitely going to need another cocktail if this is where the night is headed. I put my glass to my mouth and swallow down the remainder of its contents. I don’t even know what I was drinking, or if that was mine.

  “I have no idea,” I tell her with a shrug of my shoulders.

  All three women look at each other with shock on their faces and then instantly whip their heads around.

  Tinley is the only one who speaks up, asking what they’re all thinking. “What do you mean you have no idea? How could you not know?”

  Tara busts out laughing and holds out her finger and thumb roughly an inch apart. “Oh no babe, does he have a teeny weeny? An itty-bitty pecker? A…What are some other good names for it?”

  “Tiny Tim,” Tinley says with a giggle.

  Dakota nods and holds up her hand, counting off on her fingers as she replies, “Well there’s millimeter Peter, knoblet, dinky winky, pencil dick, needle dick, or my personal favorite, leprecock.”

  They glance at one another before they bust up laughing and throw themselves backward onto the couch we’re occupying. I don’t even know what to do with these three, but good to know there are so many ways to say someone has a small penis.

  I wait for them to calm down with their laughter and shrug again, saying, “I wouldn’t know how big or small he is because we haven’t had sex yet. He wants to wait until our wedding night.”

  Glass shatters on the floor below us, and I slide my feet up on the couch, Dakota’s martini having slipped from her fingers. I think that’s our cue to leave and end the evening.

  * * *

  Cottonmouth is the least of my worries as I try choking down some pain pills. Having my bachelorette party the night before my wedding was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, and I’m definitely paying for it today. I don’t even remember how many drinks I had last night or what I drank, for that matter. Judging the war going on in my belly, I didn’t stick to one kind.

  My phone dings with a notification and I tap it without even thinking, which I’m seriously regretting when it opens up to another article from Sasha Nichols. Above it, there’s a very large and grainy picture from last night when we were leaving the very last bar. We didn’t actually go home after the drink spillage incident, we just moved our party to another location. Dakota is bent over, and I’m leaning against Tinley. Tara had already gone home before we got to that bar, so it’s just the three of us. From an outside perspective, it looks like we’re completely wasted and almost falling to our feet. Dakota looks like she’s getting sick instead of laughing, and Tinley and I look like we’re stumbling.

  The reality was very different. Tinley had just gotten done telling us a funny story about Luna. A
pparently earlier that day when they were shopping, Luna had seen a set of Unikitty stickers she just had to have. Tinley had told her maybe next time and said she didn’t need them, she wanted them. That then turned into tantrum mania where my perfect angel of a niece told Tinley she was going to jail if she didn’t buy the stickers. We all had a good laugh about it, and that’s when this image was snapped.

  However, the article below it leads you to believe it was a very different kind of night.

  Giselle Outlaw Is A Major Party Girl

  Sasha Nichols

  QuickFeed Staff

  Our sources tell us Wren Danzig’s vlogger fiancée was out on the town last night without her man by her side. Could there already be trouble in paradise before they even make it down the aisle?

  Giselle’s party-girl lifestyle came out in full force last night as she was spotted taking multiple rounds of shots and dancing with unknown partners, both male and female. They were spotted at Beep, a once very popular bar in the Portland party scene that has seen better days, or so our sources tell us.

  Wren has always been one to stay out of the limelight. Do you think his fiancée is taking advantage of the spotlight? Or do you think it was an innocent night that turned a little cray? Sound off in the comments. Do you think the couple is doomed, or does it look like a harmless night out with friends?

  I don’t know why I keep reading all these damn articles. Whoever this woman is, she obviously has it out for me. Since when is a woman supposed to bring her fiancé to her bachelorette party? I like how she didn’t have anything to say about Wren being out with his friends last night, not that he even told me what they did.

  I shouldn’t even be on my phone right now. Today is about Wren and me. That’s all that matters. I put the phone on silent and toss it to the couch behind me. Nothing is going to ruin my day.

  Perfect.

  Everything about today is absolutely perfect: the venue, my dress, the flowers, the guests. Everything is absolutely perfect—except for the bride and groom. I shouldn’t be doing this, at least not with the man who is waiting at the end of the aisle and expects me to walk down it any minute now to greet him.

  My breathing quickens as I place my hands over my midsection. How could I have made such a giant mess of things? Everyone has been so focused on the fact that I’m marrying a celebrity, but nobody has asked if it’s even what I want. It is, or at least it was before I came home and saw Anders again.

  Fuck, what am I even doing?

  Have you ever had that moment right before you walk down the aisle when you realize the person you are truly and completely in love with won’t be meeting you at the end? No? Just me? That’s how I feel right now in the pit of my stomach. It’s ridiculous and absolutely insane. Waiting with a smile on his face and a ring for my finger is Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor. We’ll get married, dance all night, and run away into the sunset together on our flight to Bora Bora.

  What more could a girl ask for? It’s perfection, and my damn heart is screwing everything up. No matter what I know I should do, everything inside of me wants to turn back around and run the hell away into the arms of my brother’s best friend.

  “Are you ready?” Tinley asks me with the biggest smile on her face.

  I force one on myself, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing about today feels the way it’s supposed to. I don’t know why I thought things would be fine.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, I turn to my sister-in-law, one of my best friends in the world, and ask, “Can you go get Wren for me?”

  Her eyes almost pop out of her face. “Giselle, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. Everyone knows that,” she adds on, almost as if she’s saying duh.

  “It’s fine—”

  “No, seriously. I’m not superstitious or anything, but don’t you want to start things off properly?”

  Shaking my head, I take a seat on the large ottoman in the middle of the room. “It’s fine, because he’s not the groom. I’m calling off the wedding.”

  “WHAT!”

  My ears ring as her shout echoes in the small room.

  “What do you mean you’re calling off the wedding? He’s Wren freaking Danzig! Are you insane? C’mon, we can talk about this. It’s perfectly normal to get wedding-day jitters. We all go through them.”

  “Please, can you just go get him for me?”

  She opens her mouth like she’s going to question me again but then stops. Instead she slowly nods her head, wraps her arms around me, and hugs me tight before leaving me to my own thoughts, alone in this tiny room.

  My heart races as I think about what I’m about to do. I’m crazy, right? The world will think I’m crazy and the millions of women who want him will think I’m crazy, but he doesn’t make my heart go pitter patter. He deserves to be with a woman who is as in love with him as he is with her.

  He’s good and kind and will make someone so incredibly happy one day. But he isn’t Anders. He isn’t the one for me.

  “What does he have that I don’t have?”

  I turn around slowly, and Wren is standing right there. He already knew, and that makes this whole thing even worse. I don’t know why exactly, but it just does.

  He steps into the room and grabs my hands with the sincerest look in his eyes. “Tell me and I can fix this. I can fix us. Just tell me what it is so I can go out and do whatever needs to be done.”

  The tears fall down quicker as I try to compose myself. This is the end. I never intended to hurt anybody, but I guess I went about it in the completely wrong way. I speak honestly and tell him the truth. “My heart—he has my heart. I gave it to him when I was seventeen years old, and I didn’t realize I never took it back from him.”

  His anger comes out at that answer and he throws my hands down, asking, “So, what was I? Someone to bide your time with until he decided he wanted you back?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that.” I shake my head furiously and continue, “I love you. I do.”

  There’s an awkward silence as he studies me, really studies me. This whole situation is fucked up and I know that. Nobody wins today, and I don’t know how to go on from here.

  “But…?” he asks in a whisper.

  “Things with you are fun and easy, so easy. I wanted to stop hurting so much. I’ve loved Anders for the majority of my adult life, and I was so tired of pining over him and my feelings not being one hundred percent reciprocated, so I left. Then you came into my life and I thought I’d finally found the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.”

  “Then let’s do that. He had his chance with you and never took it. I love you and I know you love me, so why are we even having this conversation?”

  “Because it isn’t fair to you for me to have feelings for somebody else and still marry you.”

  “Dammit!” His voice rises as he turns around and paces the small area. Turning back to me again, he asks, “Isn’t that my decision to make? We could be happy together, I know we could.”

  “I’m sorry, Wren. I’m so sorry.”

  I don’t even let him get another word out before I turn around and take off running. When I tied the laces on my coral Chucks this morning, I had zero intention of running away, but now that I am, I’m so incredibly happy that I’m not hobbling away in heels. Thank goodness for small miracles, I guess.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Anders

  Tara was right—I am a fucking coward. I thought I could be happy for her, and yet I couldn’t even go to the damn wedding. I had every intention of being there. I even put on a suit this morning, but I just couldn’t do it. Watching the woman I love walk down the aisle and marry another man? Not my idea of a good way to spend a Saturday.

  Fuck, any day, for that matter.

  Instead, I’m here at my speakeasy, my little piece of heaven in the hell that is my life. I’m drinking my sorrows away with the most expensive bottle of scotch I have in the bar instead of sipping f
rom the flask in my pocket. I filled it up earlier because I knew I wasn’t going to go through the ceremony sober, but little did I know I wouldn’t even be able to make it there at all.

  I’ve really and truly lost her this time, and there’s nothing I can do about that now. I don’t even know how we ended up in this place. I still feel like I was nineteen yesterday instead of being thirty-seven years old. What the fuck have I been doing all this time? Why have I been fighting it? I’m a fucking idiot and I should have been with her the minute she turned eighteen.

  Footsteps echo down the hallway. I glance down at my watch and notice the time: two o’clock. The ceremony is just getting started, and any minute now Giselle will be saying I do to a man who isn’t me. Fox isn’t normally in this early, but maybe she knew I’d be here instead of at the wedding. I continue drinking my overpriced liquor and wait for the inevitable look of pity written all over her face when she sees me. I hear her walk into the room and my shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t come in any farther.

  What is she doing?

  I lose my balance slightly as I spin around on the stool I’m sitting on. What I’m not expecting is that it’s not Fox standing in front of me; it’s Giselle. What the hell is going on right now? Assessing the bottle out of the corner of my eye, I can tell I’ve had quite a bit to drink, but it’s not enough to imagine her here in front of me, right?

  Unsure of what’s really going on, I stand up from my seat and ask her, “What are you doing here?”

  Tears pour down her face as she takes a hesitant step toward me and shrugs her shoulders. “I couldn’t do it, Anders. I couldn’t marry him.”

  Holy shit.

  My heart pounds against my chest. There’s no way—no way she’s actually here for me, no way I got the girl. Moving out from behind the bar, I walk toward her like a man on a mission. I refuse to get my hopes up, but still. “Giselle, you have to tell me what that means.” What that means for us, I silently add.