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“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me,” said Dakota. “Or why we’re supposedly married.”
The guys joined her in glancing expectantly at me from across the kitchen. Eventually, I shrugged.
“Over the past year or so, throughout all the many conversations we had about life, family, and future… I might’ve told the old man I was married.”
Aurelius snorted. “Might’ve?”
“Okay, fine,” I admitted. “I did. I told my CO I had a wife, and that wife is you. It has to be you.”
“Me?” Dakota asked, arching an eyebrow. “Why me?”
“Because… well…” I winced. “I might’ve shown him a photo or two.”
“Of me?” she asked, surprised. “Oh God, which one?”
“Just some pretty one I pulled off your Instagram account.”
“You follow my Instagram account?”
“Uh… sure.”
My face was turning undeniably red now, especially since the guys were thoroughly enjoying this. As awkward as it was, I had to get through it.
‘Which one did you take?” asked Dakota.
“That bachelorette party you went to last year? Sometime around the summer?”
“Amber’s?” Nowshewas turning red. “Oh God. I got so drunk that night! Which one did you use?”
“One of the early ones,” I grinned. “You were standing outside, with the lights of the city behind you. Your eyes were shining. You had the most beautiful smile.”
I realized I was rambling, but I didn’t care. The photo had been amazing, really — the one silent thing that bridged the gap between the girl I once knew and the woman Dakota had become. I felt shitty using it. I felt even more shitty lying. But the photo itself…
Man, I’d admired that one little photo so many times.
“Alright, that one’s not bad,” Dakota said, finally remembering. “I can let that one slide.”
“Good.”
“What else?”
I paused to pull my phone from my pocket. After swiping left a bunch of times, I held it up to show her.
“This one.”
It was a photo of a photo, or maybe a scan. In it, Tyler and I stood with his sister between us. We were all so young, mid-teens maybe. The three of us had our arms draped happily around each other.
Dakota stared into my phone and slowly shook her head. “You told him we were childhood sweethearts, didn’t you?” she asked flatly.
“Yes.”
The kitchen went silent as Dakota and I just stared at each other. My housemates stood there innocently, watching the show.
“Look, it just came out one day,” I explained. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. The old man kept wanting to hear about my personal life, and I was floundering, so eventually I made one up. I told him I had someone from back home, someone who I grew up with. I kept building the relationship up more and more every time I talked to him, fleshing it out, giving it details. Then one day he wanted to see a photo. And I realized that this woman I’d been building up this whole time; the one who was strong, and fiery, and independent, and beautiful… this woman wasyou.”
Dakota stared back at me blankly, and the complete lack of expression made her somehow prettier. It was hard to tell if she was pissed or flattered or—
“So your boss thinks I’m your wife?”
