Page 83 of Married to Lies

A sad smile transformed her features. “The Mindy Project.”

“I’ve never seen it,” I said, “but I’m ready to watch all of it, tonight if you want.”

She gave a weak chuckle. “There are too many seasons for that.” She patted my leg, the gesture familiar, warm, and still my body wanted more. Then she met my gaze again, brown eyes black in this darkness. “There is something I wanted to say to you, about the wedding.”

I wanted to be that guy who could handle everything that came my way, but I braced for heartbreak, for betrayal. “What is it?” I asked.

“The five-year contract,” she said.

I raised my eyebrows.

“I don’t want it to be a part of our day.”

My head rebounded as I processed her words. It was about the last thing I’d expected her to say. “It’s more than fair, for what I’m asking of you. Marrying a complete stranger.”

She shook her head, a tear cascading down her cheek. “You’re not a stranger, Quentin. You’re a good man, and I—” She swallowed, and another tear fell. “I’m falling for you. You’ve already had to sacrifice so much for this wedding to happen. Please, remove the contract from our agreement.”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest as it swelled to hold my feelings for her. “You mean it?”

She nodded, leaning in slowly to kiss my lips. I held her gently, kissing her back. So many of our kisses had the salty tang of her tears, but I hoped in years to come, I could make her the happiest woman alive.

The car bumped, and we looked around to see Divi had pulled into my parents’ driveway.

She reached for her purse, murmuring, “Give me a second to make myself presentable.”

I nodded, watching transfixed while she got a small compact out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes and fixed her makeup until it looked like she’d never cried at all.

A sad realization hit me that she must have done this dozens of times before to be so practiced. So when she said she was ready, I held on to her hand. Not because I wanted to put on a show for my family, but because I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.

She would never be alone anymore.

37 Rei

I stood in front of a floor-length mirror in a house that had been rented just for our wedding day and night. Ambrosia flitted about my dress, perfecting details visible only to their eyes. Everything else had been done, aside from the final fitting. My hair was curled and smoothed, hanging in waves down my shoulders. My makeup, done better than it ever had been—the artist set impossible standards for matching winged eyeliner.

Ambrosia stepped back, taking in their work. “What do you think?”

I looked down at my dress and then studied myself in the mirror. Never in my life did I think I’d have the money for an Ambrosia wedding gown. “The dress is incredible.”

With it being a winter wedding, we both decided a long-sleeved dress would be best; however, I didn’t want to feel frumpy or like I was covering my curves. I wanted to celebrate my body, and Ambrosia was on the same page.

The top was fitted, lace sleeves appliquéd and beaded with a geometric design inspired by the tower we’d be married in front of. From the fitted bodice spilled a full tulle skirt, elements of the geometric design accenting the top gauzy layer.

“Any last-minute tweaks?” Ambrosia asked.

I shook my head instantly. “It’s perfect. I can’t wait to see the line you’re working on.”

They smiled and said, “I can’t wait to see the designs on you. There’s this evening gown with a sweetheart neckline and a killer slit that’s going to look incredible.” Hearing their excitement made me feel a little lighter, if only for a moment.

“Anything you make will be great,” I said. “Thank you so much for helping me feel beautiful today.”

They gave me a brief smile and started packing up their gear. Once all the pins, measuring tapes, needles, and thread were in their pack, they said, “I’ll excuse myself. Congratulations on your wedding day, Rei. You really are a lovely bride.”

I thanked them and gave them a hug, promising to chat more about the fashion line they were designing. Then they said goodbye and walked out the door, leaving me alone in the suite.

I stepped down from the podium and stepped over the plush rug to a chair in the corner of the room. It was positioned to overlook the quiet street alongside the house, but my gaze was on my phone to see if my parents or brother had gotten in touch. None of them had spoken to me since the recital, nor RSVP’d for the wedding.

Going to the family group chat, I sent a message.