Marry Me

by Bishop, Alexandria

  “I don’t know. All I know is I’m supposed to be heading to my reception a married woman and off to Bora Bora later this evening to spend an amazing week at the Four Seasons staying in one of those overwater bungalows, but instead, I’m standing in front of you in your bar. I guess that’s rather fitting, standing here right where it all started.”

  No. If we were truly going full circle, we would be standing in that same back yard where we met for the first time eighteen years ago, the moment when I started falling even though I wouldn’t let myself go there.

  The question is sitting on the tip of my tongue. I’m afraid to ask it, but I do it anyway because when you’re truly afraid of something, that’s when you know you’re doing something right. “What does this mean?”

  She shrugs as the silent sobs continue to rack her body. “I had it all. Every single one of my dreams was coming true, but it wasn’t enough.”

  “Why not?”

  Giselle glances down at the bathtub in the middle of the speakeasy and studies it intently. I don’t know whether she is curious about it or just doesn’t want to look at me when she speaks. Her voice comes out quiet when she says, “Because he wasn’t you. I have always loved you. I gave you my heart when I was a stupid seventeen-year-old girl, and I’ve never taken it back. I was kidding myself thinking I could move on.”

  “What took you so long?” I pull her into my arms and tilt her head back. Her tears stop falling momentarily and the overhead lights hit them just perfectly, making her face look like it’s sparkling. She holds her breath as I do what I’ve wanted to do every single day since she’s been home. I lean down and firmly place my lips on her own.

  Her entire body stiffens at first, and I know I should pull back. I shouldn’t even be putting this on her right now. She just walked away from her own wedding, for God’s sake, but I can’t find it in me to hold myself back. I’m a possessive and greedy bastard. I finally have what’s mine in my arms and there’s no way I’m ever letting go. I deepen the kiss and she melts into me.

  “Does somebody want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  We break apart and find Fox standing in the entrance to the bar with a shit-eating grin on her face. She studies Giselle’s wedding dress and then looks back at me.

  Her eyes go wide as she looks at both of us and says, “Son of a bitch. You fucking pulled it off. I have no idea how you did it, but you pulled off a fucking miracle.”

  Yeah, that’s not exactly what Giselle needs to be hearing right now. Sure, I wanted us to end up together, but she’s fragile at the moment, and I know that. I give Fox a face I hope tells her to shut the fuck up, but all she does is keep her focus on Giselle.

  “Excuse me?” Giselle asks as she wiggles out of my embrace. I instantly miss the connection, but Giselle’s feisty meter is going off, and the last thing I want to do is piss her off even more by trying to hold on to her.

  Fox takes a step toward us and holds out her hand. “We haven’t met before—I’m Fox, the manager and bartender.”

  Not one to ignore the years of etiquette her mom drilled into her head, Giselle takes a step forward and shakes Fox’s hand then stands her ground with both hands on her hips. “It’s nice to meet you. Now, what did you mean by what you said?”

  She laughs in the way only Fox can and says, “The lovesick puppy standing behind you was a complete wreck when you got home from Europe. He told me the whole story about being in love with you and you getting engaged to Wren Danzig. I told him there was no chance in hell any girl would leave that man for the wannabe Rat Pack member behind you.”

  I want to laugh, but she isn’t far off.

  “Fox? What’s your real name?”

  She laughs because that’s a question she’s gotten a lot in her life. I’ve only known her for a few years now, but even I hear her get asked about it often.

  “That is my real name, the one my parents put on my birth certificate.”

  Oh, the last thing Giselle wants to do is go down this road. Instead, I grip her shoulder and say, “Don’t question it, babe. She knows it’s not normal, but then again Fox isn’t quite normal either.”

  “Who wants to be normal? That sounds fucking boring.”

  Giselle’s voice comes out small when she says, “I’m craving some normalcy right about now.”

  I nod my head and tell her, “Let me take you home to relax. You’ve had a long day, and you just need to rest.”

  Surprisingly, she doesn’t fight me on it. She just nods her head and leans it against my chest.

  * * *

  We’ve been at my house for a few hours now, and I’m surprised that it has taken anyone this long to get a hold of either one of us. I move slightly as my phone vibrates in my pocket and I fish it out.

  Marek: Is it true?

  Me: What are you asking me?

  Marek: Don’t play games, Anders. Did Giselle just call off her wedding for you?

  Me: She left Wren, but I don’t know if this means anything for me and her. I wish I could tell you more, but I’m just as in the dark about everything as you are.

  Marek: Is she with you?

  I glance down at her sleeping form. She passed out pretty quickly after we got here.

  “I’m sorry to leave you alone, but I need to step into the bathroom,” I tell her. “I kind of had a lot to drink earlier.”

  She nods her head at me, in a daze, and if it weren’t for the fact that she actually looks me in the eyes, I wouldn’t have thought she even heard me.

  Refusing to spend too much time away from her side, I’m in and out of the bathroom in a flash only to find her exactly where I left her: standing in front of the big picture window in my living room, staring out at the street. I have no idea what’s going through her mind right now, but I try to change the subject and diffuse the tension.

  “I watched your video, you know the one about the mood-based color-changing eyeshadow. That’s really weird if you ask me.”

  She turns around and her eyes are wide as saucers as she exclaims, “In there?” She points in the direction of the bathroom.

  I wasn’t gone that long, that’s for damn sure. I don’t think I was even in there for a full sixty seconds. I shake my head and say, “No! I watched it earlier today.” I don’t add the part about drowning myself in booze and avoiding her wedding. I was punishing myself by watching her videos. “Geez, what did you think I was doing in there?”

  “I have no idea, and I’m not sure I want to know.” She turns back to the window, looking outside.

  Giselle is so completely sad and out of it that the first thing that comes to my mind is to add humor to the situation. “If I’m going to wank it to you while I’m in the bathroom, I’m definitely not going to choose a makeup video to help get myself off.”

  “Wait…have you done that?”

  “Jerked my chicken? Of course.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Have you”—she lowers her voice to a whisper—“masturbated while thinking about me?”

  I want to laugh at her hushed tone, but I think better of it. I could lie, but I don’t really see how that would help anything right now. It probably seems creepy for me to say, but I answer honestly and tell her, “Since I was nineteen.”

  That first summer when we met, my hand got a workout. I was beyond attracted to Giselle, but I refused to go there. She was seventeen and very much illegal, especially in the state of Oregon, not to mention my best friend’s little sister and therefore off limits to me.

  After that, I took her upstairs to my room. I helped her out of her dress and tucked her into my bed. That was hours ago, and I’ve just been lying here next to her, watching her sleep.

  Me: Yeah.

  Marek: Can I talk to her?

  Me: She’s sleeping, but I’ll let her know you’re concerned.

  Marek: You better not have taken advantage of the situation and fucking slept with my sister on the day she was supposed to get married.

  My bl
ood boils at his message. He’s my best friend, but his first concern is his sister, and I get that. Still, you’d think after all this time he’d know I would never do something like that.

  Me: I would never do that, and you should know that. My number one concern is Giselle and that’s it.

  Marek: Sorry. Tinley is freaking out and I have no idea what’s going on. All I know is my sister is MIA and I’m just trying to keep the peace.

  Me: She’s fine.

  I send that message, but I look down at the woman next to me and feel afraid thinking about the drama she has started. What the hell did I just get myself involved in?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Giselle: I’m sorry.

  Giselle: I hate how we left things.

  Giselle: Please talk to me.

  Giselle: I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you.

  Giselle: Are you okay?

  Giselle: I don’t know what to say.

  Giselle: I’m sorry Wren. I’m really sorry.

  * * *

  Anders: Are you ever going to talk to me again? We can’t just leave things the way we did.

  Giselle: I’m a horrible, horrible person.

  Anders: No, you’re not. You’re perfect.

  Giselle: Shit!

  Giselle: Why did I even text you? I feel like a crazy person right now and I shouldn’t have even gone to you in the first place. That just makes me feel yucky.

  Giselle: Stop trying to make me feel better. I did a really shitty thing.

  Anders: You have every right to be upset about the situation. Obviously, it wasn’t ideal, and someone got hurt in the process, but that doesn’t make you a horrible person.

  Giselle: Stop trying to make me feel better. It won’t work.

  Anders: Oh yeah?

  Giselle: Yep. I’m just going to sit here and wallow in my shittiness. I shouldn’t be allowed to feel good right now, especially when he’s hurting.

  Anders: How do you know that?

  Giselle: Know what?

  Anders: That he’s hurting.

  Giselle: Geez Anders, I’d like to think I meant something to him and he therefore doesn’t feel the greatest since I left him at the altar.

  Anders: That’s not what I meant exactly. You’re sitting on your couch, most likely surrounded with junk food, wallowing about the breakup, and you’re the one who ended it. Not everyone grieves the same way.

  Giselle: You’re right.

  Anders: I’m right? You want to repeat that one again?

  Giselle: Oh my gosh, are you serious right now?

  Anders: Hey, it’s not every day you hear that from your girl. Don’t worry, I’ve got a screenshot so we can commemorate this moment for years to come.

  Anders: Besides, isn’t he filming a movie right now? That is the reason you were rushing the wedding, right? Or was that a lie and you’re secretly carrying his baby?

  Giselle: Oh, you know it. I’m eating all this ice cream because I’m eating for three now.

  Anders: Three?

  Giselle: Yep, it’s twins.

  Giselle: Are you ready to step up to the plate and take care of another man’s babies?

  Anders: Absolutely.

  Giselle: You know I was kidding, right?

  Anders: Sure

  Giselle: Anders???

  Anders: It wouldn’t change things between us. I love you Giselle. I told you that at your engagement party and I’m telling you that now. When it comes to you, there isn’t a whole lot that will scare me away. You’re it for me.

  Anders: Did I freak you out?

  Anders: Giselle?

  Anders: This better not be Paris all over again.

  Anders: I will come after you this time. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.

  Anders: Answer me Giselle.

  Giselle: I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood right now. I’ll talk to you later.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Giselle

  I don’t know why I keep trying to reach out to Wren. He probably changed his phone number the minute he left town. I wouldn’t blame him, but I still feel so guilty about how things ended. I should have handled everything a lot differently. I stare daggers at our one-sided text conversation and all my unanswered messages.

  An alert banner pops up at the top of my screen and I accidentally click on it when trying to swipe it away. Of course, it’s another QuickFeed article written by Sasha Nichols.

  Giselle Outlaw Is A Liar And A Cheater

  Sasha Nichols

  QuickFeed Staff

  Wren Danzig is left brokenhearted and so very single. Who would be dumb enough to leave him at the altar? Giselle Outlaw, that’s who. The beauty ViewTuber revived her failing channel and then some with this publicity stunt to snag an Academy Award-winning actor. Problem is, something tells us Wren wasn’t in on it.

  Good thing they didn’t actually head down the aisle. Does anyone else hear a divorce filed under fraud? Hey Wren, I’ve got two shoulders for you to cry on. We can decide later which one you want to use. Just call me ;)

  Who else isn’t surprised this couple didn’t make it down the aisle? They seemed pretty doomed from the start. Sound off with your thoughts in the comments below.

  I don’t know who this woman is, but she seems to have a serious vendetta against me, or maybe she just doesn’t have anything better to do than fantasize about a man she’ll never have. It’s ridiculous is what it is. Ugh, I can’t let my anger get the best of me and turn me into a catty person like her. That’s not the person I am.

  Also, failing channel? I bust my ass every day for my followers, and even before word of our relationship was out, my views were up like they had never been before. I was beyond thriving.

  “Hello, my name is Giselle Outlaw. Can I welcome you to the pity party for one?” I say out loud with a sardonic laugh in my empty apartment. I really am starting to go crazy.

  It’s the coward’s way out—turning off my phone and my computer, avoiding everyone at all costs—but I can’t deal with all this right now. Everything that’s being spewed about me couldn’t be further from the truth, but nobody cares. To them, I’m not really a person. I’m just a face on the internet, a scapegoat for them to bash and say mean things about. I thought I had built up a thick skin by being immersed in the beauty industry for so long, but I was wrong.

  So very wrong.

  This is a whole new level of abuse that I didn’t even know existed. These people are hiding behind their keyboards, thriving on the drama that has become my life, and I’m sick of it. Who the heck even is this Sasha Nichols person? Every single article she writes these days is either about how horrible of a person I am or how amazing Wren is. It’s absolutely disgusting.

  Normally I wouldn’t pay attention to stupid articles on QuickFeed, but now it’s starting to affect my channel. Last I checked, I’d lost at least fifty thousand subscribers, and it’s still plummeting. I really wish my private life was just that—private, but I lost that privilege the minute I told Wren I would marry him. It doesn’t matter that all these people judging us don’t actually know us; they’ve made the situation their business.

  I scroll through article and post after post of all these people bashing me, because of course I come off as this horrible person and he is seen as the victim. I’m not saying the situation wasn’t shitty, but still, I didn’t realize how badly this would affect my career.

  A loud knock echoes throughout my apartment and I reluctantly put my phone down on the coffee table. I really need to turn those Google alerts off. It isn’t helping me in the slightest to receive an email every time one of these articles is posted on QuickFeed.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He shakes his head, but he has a sexy smirk on his face when he asks, “What is it about you Outlaws and being so confrontational? Did you forget how to say hello?”

  Ugh, I know I’m being rude. Damn that Sasha Nichols throwing off my mood lately. “Sorry, you just cau
ght me off guard.”

  Anders pushes his way inside and asks, “Did you really think I was going to let you just leave things like that? I brought you home with me, then you left before we could even talk about anything that happened.”