Page 51 of Something Like Sunflowers

The prettiest ring for the prettiest Ponygirl, I remember, a smile creeping across my face as I take in the woven bits of colorful starburst wrappers that snake around my finger. It reminds me of a time when the air smelled of barbeque and shoes were optional.

“Did you hear me?” Claudette says. “We don’t want you to worry about the competition. With the hype and excitement this surprise marriage of yours has caused among the consumers, we are one hundred percent committed to your brand as a couple, and—”

I cut her off, stunned to hear her speak those words. “Did you just say, ‘your brand as a couple?’”

“Well, yes, dear.” She lowers her voice now and speaks to me in what feels like the most direct and motherly tone I’ve ever actually gotten from someone. Even from my own mother. My stepmother, too, not that she was ever old enough to be considered my mother in the first place, but I digress…

“We are offering both of you the position. As Classy Country’s first ever Co-Marketing Directors of Influence and Outreach. You’d have equal share in the company, and you are both guaranteed the position whether or not you make the most at the charity event. Let’s use this platform to propel our brand forward even more!” She lets a giggle erupt from her throat at the tail end of a chuckle, tickled by these events. She’s not used to surprises like this, and she…wants us both?

To work together.

“But why?” I ask. I mean, this all sounds amazing. We both get the job. What more could I want? And it’s not like I don’t want to explore whatever these feelings are for Hunter and all, because there are a lot of feelings, but I get the feeling Claudette thinks this is an actual marriage.

One that wouldn’t ever end.

At first, I was kind of concerned it was, too, but now that I see the Starburst ring, I feel pretty confident this was part of our drunken shenanigans…and for show at the bar.

We didn’t really get married.

Either way, I think as I rub my fingers across the folds of my paper ring, the one who makes my heart skitter with its similarities to the zebra-stripe gum version that seemed to appear magically in my sixth-grade locker and became a permanent fixture in my jewelry box for the rest of time. It’s still there, nestled next to my hospital band—both our bands. I brush a stray tear from my cheek, not willing to let it fall all the way.

It doesn’t make sense to tell Claudette. I do recall accepting the staying the night dare. And I am pretty sure Lemon or someone used their dare to amend it for a month. And now that I’m thinking really hard about it, I feel like…

“I dared Hunter to marry me…it was me,” I suddenly whisper, cutting off whatever it was Claudette was going on about.

“Well, of course you did, my dear! And well done. A woman’s got to chase after what she wants on her own terms.”

I stall at that. Hunter is not what I want. “He’s…I want him, yes, but—”

“Well, it’s all settled, then. We will throw you the reception and wedding of the century, using all Classy Country designs, of course. And you will handle the updates exclusively in partnership with Classy Country and your own social media platforms.”

Wait, what? Is that what I just agreed to?

I don’t even need a wedding reception. I’m not sure Hunter wants one. And posting updates to our social media about our not-so-real marriage? What the hell just happened?

“Congrats, newlyweds! We’ll talk soon. Ciao!” And then she’s gone. Hung up and gone.

My eyes are wide, and my mind is still reeling as I shove my phone into my pocket, thankful designers are putting pockets in dresses these days. Life is too stressful to deal with holding stuff just because we have ovaries. Today is the perfect example. Might be doing a walk of shame, but at least I’ve got pockets.

I make my way robotically down the stairs of the large farmhouse, wishing I could take my time appreciating the work Hunter seems to have put into this little slice of memory, but not having anything left in me after what just happened.

Let’s recap.

In the last seven minutes since I woke up, I found out I married my ex-boyfriend; apparently, there’s some sort of saucy video about it online that’s caused three-point-five thousand Internet users to visit my page since last night, and a competition that seemed near impossible because either way it was reckless, is now over with.

If I had won, I’d have gotten the job and probably wrecked any chances with Hunter based on how awkward that’d be. And how natural it would be to push him away as my competition. And if he’d won, I’d have lost the job and lost him. Because, let’s face it, he can’t settle down. He’s proven that before. And even if he is ready to settle down at this point in his life, it wouldn’t be with me.

Not when he knows my secret. A secret very few know but will always tie me to him.

In my heart and in my nightmares.

So, what do we do, then?

I’ll find Hunter and tell him about the call with Claudette. Find out what he remembers. We can watch this video together and figure out the damage, then make a plan.

We obviously can’t stay married. Fake or not.

But maybe we can figure a way out of this and both keep the Classy Country co-exec positions if we raise a shit ton of money and keep the followers happy somehow? String them along for just long enough. Maybe come out and say it was all just a big episode of Punk’d? Remember that show?

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