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All I have to do is to convince Marian to give us a chance.
“There’s no decision to make,” Marian says.
My dreams are disappearing like smoke before my very eyes. “Last night, you told me that the one thing you really want is to have a baby,” I tell her.
“But not with a stranger,” she snaps.
“We’re not strangers,” I tell her. “Your best friend Jason and my brother are good friends.”
“So?” Marian says.
“I’m just trying to establish that we are not strangers,” I tell her.
She takes in a deep breath. “Listen, do me a favor. Let’s get an annulment, go home, and forget this ever happened.”
The deejay invites everybody to the dance floor.
I turn back to Marian. I decide to lay it all on the table for her. It is my last chance to get her to agree to my crazy proposal. “Maybe we can help each other,” I tell her.
My heart pounds as I think of the implications that this marriage will have on my life. I’ve put my heart and soul into Did you say Pizza? and to be honest, my work is everything to me. I tell her about the trust fund.
Even before I finish speaking, she’s already shaking her head. “Oh no. I can see where this is going, and the answer is an emphatic no.”
“My business is almost going bankrupt, and all I need is an injection of cash. We would only need to stay married for a short time, and we can divorce soon after,” I tell her.
“I, I, I,” she says. “It’s all about you, isn’t it?”
I Inhale deeply and realize that I’m using the wrong tactic. In being honest, I’ve concentrated on telling Marian how this marriage will help me but not how it will benefit her.
“I’m thinking it will help you too,” I tell her. “I’m willing to be your sperm donor for your baby. My family genes are good. We’re pretty smart in school, and we don’t have any criminal tendencies.” I sound like an ad for a toilet cleaner. I feel like a fool, but I’m desperate. Now that the solution is so close, I’ll do anything, even donate a baby to Marian to make this marriage work so that I can get funding for my business.
Her jaw drops. “You’re insane.”
“We talked about this last night,” I tell her. “It was you who told me about wanting a baby.”
She grabs her glass and washes down her wine in one gulp. “I don’t handle alcohol very well.”
My skin pulls tightly across my scalp, and I feel a tension headache coming on. “Can you at least think about it?”
Before she can respond, Chad, a fireman, comes to our table and says hello, then turns to Marian. “Would you like to dance?”
Even before he finishes asking, she’s on her feet. “I would love to. “ She doesn’t even look at me.
She takes Chad’s hand, and they head to the dance floor. A slow love song flows from the speakers, and Chad takes her into his arms, holding her close. Something burns my chest, and I tear my gaze away.
I have no right to be jealous. She’s your wife, a voice in my head says. Well, she might be my wife on paper but not in real life.
After the dance, Marian goes to sit at another table with the guys. I need something stronger to drink apart from the white wine that is flowing freely. I leave the ballroom and head to the Lounge bar where Marian and I had a drink the previous day.
Mike, the bartender, is behind the counter, and he looks at me funny as soon as I slide onto a stool.
“Hello there,” he says. “Nice to see that you’re still alive after last night. What can I get you this evening?”
“I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks,” I say.
He turns away to prepare my drink, then slides a coaster and the drink in front of me moments later. He leans on the countertop. “Did you two get married last night?”
The ice clinks as I pick up the glass and shake it. I look up at Mike. “We did.”
He looks away and smiles, and I assume that another customer has come in.
“Congratulations,” he says. “I just heard the good news and was about to congratulate your husband.”
I turn to see Marian sliding into the stool next to mine. “Michael,” she says. “If you want us to continue being friends, don’t ask me about that again.”
He salutes her. “Yes, ma’am. What will you have?”
She looks at my drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
She doesn’t speak, and neither do I. When her drink comes, the silence reigns on, and we only start talking when we are in the second round.
“You live in Santa Monica, and I live in LA,” Marian says.
Lightness comes over my chest. I can barely contain my excitement. “I plan to open a second branch of Did you say Pizza? in LA,” I tell her. “We could divide our time between Santa Monica and LA. It’s only half an hour away.”
