“We’ve spent the last year apart, Raina, and I feel as though it is time for us to rekindle things. You are, after all, my wife.” He pulls a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and holds it between his pointer and middle fingers. “My family has figured that out, and now they want to know the woman I married. I can’t continue to make excuses for your absence.”
Confusion and hysteria slam into my chest like a wrecking ball. “I’m sorry, did you just say yourwife?” A bubble of disbelief filters into the air in the form of a manic laugh. “What type of drugs did you take before you came to find me? Shrooms? Molly? Obviously you’re high on something, because I’m no one's wife, let aloneyours.”
“Ah, but that is where you’re wrong.” He sits down on the edge of my couch, patting the plush cushion next to him. I hadn’teven realized we moved further into my apartment. Hesitantly, I take a seat as tries to hand me what he’s holding, and asks, “How much of that night do you remember?”
I take the paper and set it down next to me, having no interest in seeing what it is. Rage trickles in with the confusion, and even though I just sat down, I stand again to give myself the advantage of being above him—and so I can distance myself to not punch him in his smug face.
“How much do you?” I counter, wondering if he took advantage of the fact I was blacked-out drunk.
“I remembered nothing until Felipe filled me in. You and I drank too much that night, and somehow we found it amusing to go pound on the door of a local priest and begged to be wed. I still cannot understand why the man took pity and performed a brief ceremony, but he did. Felipe witnessed it.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re married. Legally?—”
“Legally, we are. French law states?—”
“I don’t give a shit what French law states,” I bellow. “We are NOT legally married.”
“We are, and my family is demanding they meet you. It’s been a year?—”
“No.”
A word that I mean with my entire being, in more ways than one.
No, I am not married.
No, I will not meet his family.
No.
“It is not up for debate.” Javier finally stands and walks toward me as I spiral into the recesses of my mind, his words commanding and final, as though he can control me.
Shaking my head, I cross my arms and walk over to the window, desperate for a moment to think. Through the glass, Manhattan continues on as though my entire world isn’t beingturned upside down. The sun still shines. I assume the birds chirp and the people of New York hurry down the streets like their asses are on fire, but I’m too many stories up to know for sure.
Suddenly, my heart sinks and I realize why he’s here—why Javier has come and is putting up a marriage ruse.
“I can pay you,” I say, turning around to face him. “Tell me how much you want to stop pretending like we’re married and to fuck off back to Spain. I know that’s why you’ve come.”
Laughing, he joins me at the window and places his hand on my shoulder, patting it as though I’m a child. “The last thing I need is your money. I have plenty of my own, so rest assured, whatever money you have means nothing to me. It’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you?”
“As I’ve said, I am here to request that you join me in Spain to meet my family. Now that they know I have taken a wife, I have obligations that require you on my arm.”
“What you took was a woman to bed. Not as a wife.”
“I wish it were that simple, but trust me when I say we are legally married. I’ve held off as long as possible, but unfortunately, it’s time for you to take your place by my side. All I need is for you to pretend for a while, then I will grant you a divorce.”
Red-hot anger flashes through my body at the finality of his tone, and I feel myself losing the composure I’ve been trying so hard to keep.
“Oh, you’ll grant me a divorce? Javier, I have no interest in pretending or going with you to Spain. You were a one-night stand. Just a little fun while I was in Paris. And that was a year ago, I might add.” I toss my hands into the air in frustration. “None of this makes any sense.”
“I know. It took me a long time to come to terms with it.”
“How long?” I ask him, exasperated. “How long have you known about this?”
“Since a few days after you left.”
A flustered exhale leaves my lungs as I start pacing. “Then why am I just now learning about it? Why, after all this time, show up on my doorstep?”
