Heavens, was it only last night?
I scroll through the document Tony's sent. I guess it's pretty standard if there is such a thing. Our finances remain separate, though she will be financially compensated. The marriage has to last at least three years. We have one residence with separate bedrooms. She can still maintain her own flat if she wants, but her legal address has to be the one we share. She'll have to attend home games. She can't tell anyone, at least without having them sign a nondisclosure first.
What's not in here is that she's going to have to lie to the government and possibly everyone in her life.
No big deal really.
It was her idea.
Honestly, I wasn't even thinking about it. I was simply mooning about with this unsolvable, impossible problem when she shouted it out. It seems like as good a solution as any.
We get on fairly well if our brief text conversations and three-hour long FaceTime are any indications. There's obviously the distinct possibility that she's insufferable, which is why I hopped on a train up here.
Between seeing her in person and the surprise element, it will be hard for her to hide too many bodies in the closet, so to speak.
Though I didn't expect her to meet me at the station. It's polite of her, so that's a check in the right column. I used to be that bloke, doing the polite thing.
Doing therightthing.
Fat lot of good it did me.
It bloody well ruined my life.
All because I'm a nice guy.
I should probably warn Ophelia that being nice won't get her anywhere. That's not to say that I'm mean or ornery now. It's more … I keep to myself. It's easier that way. The fewer entanglements, the better.
Of course, I say this as I'm on my way to iron out the details for the biggest entanglement of my life. I reckon this won't be a big deal. I'm moving anyway, so I'll simply find a place a little bigger than I normally would. My schedule is grueling and packed anyway.
This isn't going to be that much of a change.
It'll be nice to have a friendly face to talk to outside of practice. My mates have almost always been on the team, which suits me fine since that's where I spent most of my time. However, for those rare moments when I'm not doing something team related, it can get a bit lonely.
On the other hand, I don't want to be with someone who has a packed social calendar and expects me to be her arm candy, bankroll escort for it all.
Oh, I know it sounds like I'm complaining, which I'm not. There are plenty out there who'd sell a testicle for a chance to be a professional footballer. But there is a cost.
And with this latest venture, it seems like the cost just went up.
But all that slips my mind the moment I see her standing in front of the Dunkin' Donuts shop, just as she said she would be. She's staring down at her phone, plaits falling over her shoulders. She looks up and glances around.
She looks tired.
But then, that look fades as she sees me. She pulls her mask down. A small, tentative smile spreads, and she gives an equally small, tentative wave before replacing her mask.
I wave back. "Hullo," I say, approaching her. This time it's me with the rolling bag. I'm glad I have it in my hand. Otherwise, I wouldn't know what to do. Do I shake her hand? Hug her?
One seems entirely too formal and the other is entirely too familiar. I'm not quite sure there's a defined etiquette for how to greet your fiancée who's a virtual stranger.
"Did you have a good trip? Are you hungry? We could get something to eat down here. Do you like seafood? I do, but I'm still kind of pukey so I don't know that we want to do that. How long are you staying? Where are you staying? Why did you say we're getting married? Oh, by the way, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous. I'm very nervous."
I have to laugh.
"Are you? I couldn't tell." I tilt my head. "Pukey?"
"I may have grossly overestimated the amount of wine I can drink without getting pukey."
"Oh, that's terrible. I thought you might be a bit sloshed. Or at least I did when you rolled off the couch."
