“Am I wearing a white dress? Are we getting rings for each other?”
The image of her in a beautiful white dress, the enormity of slipping a ring onto her finger, momentarily stuns me speechless.
I haven’t thought too much about the nitty gritty details since I’ve been more focused on the basic logistics. My brain better learn to realize that this pending marriage is fake, because right now I am in serious danger of getting into a position where this woman could shatter me. She’s somehow skirting around all of the caution signs that normally blare in bright colors in my mind. I clear my throat and shove the errant thoughts away.
“We can pick out rings in the next week or so, I think we should exchange them to really sell it. As for your dress, I want you to wear whatever you’re comfortable with. White dress, black pantsuit, it doesn’t matter as long as you feel good in it.”
“Very kind of you to give me carte blanche on what to wear,” she snarks, but there’s no bite to it.
“I’m nothing if not generous,” I deadpan with a grin, making her snort out a laugh before she sobers.
“What are you going to tell your family about us? They’re really going to buy us getting married so quickly?”
I run my hand through my hair and let out a huff of air.
“I’ve always been a little impulsive,except when it comes to the bar. It wouldn’t be out of character for me, and they’ll just shake their heads and hope I’ll be happy. That’s what I’m banking on at least. It helps that they’ve already seen us together at the bar.”
She looks a little dubious, but nods slowly.
“Your dad won’t get suspicious about the timing? He gives you this ultimatum and now suddenly you’re getting married at the courthouse?”
“He’s not an idiot, I’m sure that’ll be on his mind. That’s why I think it’s important we sell it. If he believes we’re madly in love, then we both can get what we want. No matter what ends up happening with him, we’ll stay married long enough for you to get the treatment you need,” I promise her.
“That wouldn’t be very fair if I got something out of this and you didn’t, so you can bet I will sell it to your family. I’ll be the picture of an adoring wife,” she says, looking at me with big doe eyes and batting her eyelashes, as if to demonstrate.
I never knew eyes could be deadly weapons before, but I’m discovering that I’m powerless against hers. We’re not even married yet, and she’s already going to kill me.
“Those beautiful eyes could make a man feel ten feet tall, looking at him like that,” I blurt without even thinking, because my brain is currently in a Celeste induced fog. Hermes lets out a loud whistle from his perch, like he’s judging me, while Daisy tries to imitate him with a much more delicate trill. It breaks the spell a little.
“Fine, I’ll practice looking lovesick in the mirror before the wedding,” she huffs, clearly thinking I’m teasing her again. I could play it off, let her think I’m teasing, and respond with another quip. That would be a pretty dickmove though, and even a fake marriage deserves to begin with honesty.
“I wasn’t joking,” I confess quietly. Her lips part in surprise.
“Oh,” is all she says for a moment, before swallowing hard. “That’s good. If we’re going to sell this, you should think my eyes are beautiful.” Her head bobs once with a decisive nod. “For the record, it won’t be hard for me to sell it either. You’re not so bad yourself, Casanova,” she says with a little grin that verges on sly.
“A ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one,” I say with a laugh.
We’re back in the familiar, comfortable territory of teasing and meaningless flirting we’ve developed, like slipping into warm bathwater. It should feel like relief, but it’s as though the bathwater has actually gone a little cold and stagnant. What would happen if she took me thinking she’s beautiful seriously? Would she want to pursue anything for real? Would I? I think until I get a better read on what she actually feels about me, I’m too chickenshit to find out. The teasing and flirting is our armor, and while we’ve both let a crack or two show, neither of us is ready to show anything more.
“So what else do we need to get ready for this wedding? I suppose I should pack my things at Tania and Carlo’s soon? I don’t have much, so it won’t be hard,” she muses.
I nod.
“Yeah, you can move in whenever you’re ready. I can help bring your stuff over. It’ll give me an excuse to say hey to Carlo, Tania, and the cats anyway,” I say.
She shrugs.
“I can fit everything in my car, but they’d love to see you, and I won’t say no to my future husband carrying someof the heavier stuff. You don’t have to, though,” she says, but it comes out of her mouth like it’s painful to say.
“Consider it done,” I promise, and she relaxes a little, like she was worried I would say no to helping her even after I just offered.
“You don’t like asking for help at all, do you?” I surmise, probably too bluntly. Her eyes dim, but she thankfully doesn’t close off completely.
“The only person I’ve ever been able to rely on for almost my entire life is myself. Even with Tania, it was her relying on me up until recently. I learned really quickly to help myself with everything, and take care of my sister from the time she came into my life when I was twelve. So no, I’ve never learned how to accept help, because I’ve never received much,” she says with quiet ferocity and a defiant lift of her chin.
I nod in understanding, my heart splitting in two at her admission.
“I hope one day you’ll be able to rely on me, and have no problem asking me for help, Celeste. Whatever you need, I’ll be there. You’ve got a friend for life,” I promise her. She eyes me speculatively.
