Page 33 of Ride By Your Side

She may have grown on me some this past week, but not enough to want to marry her. I also may have even made her come last night…

Fuck!

Thankfully, before I can ruminate on that for too long, she starts to speak again.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but this is real. We’re officially man and wife, oh dear husband of mine,” she says, lifting her left ring finger to showcase a plain gold band.

With a jolt, I lift my hand to see a nearly identical one on my ring finger. “Fuck!” I curse again, but this time, out loud.

“Also, just so you know… We, uh, never…” She trails off as I raise a brow, waiting for her to continue, but she hesitates as her eyes find the floor.

“We never what?” I ask, my brows pinching together.

“Had sex… right?” she asks, her gaze finally brave enough to meet mine.

My eyes widen in surprise, as the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind just yet. Then again, how could I be expected to remember anything that happened? Most of the night is a complete blur.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice a strained whisper as I struggle to make sense of this, my fingers clutching my chest as my heart pounds wildly against it. “What makes you think it’s even a possibility?” I ask, even though I’m not so sure I’m ready to hear the answer.

She gestures with her eyes, and I notice she’s wearing my shirt from the night before. I force myself not to dwell on how much I like seeing her in it. Now is definitely not the time for thoughts like those.

“I may be wearing this now, but when I first woke up, I was here, in bed, and I was completely topless,” she carefully explains as I lift my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. “I mean, I was still wearing my underwear, so that’s a good sign, but I was actually sort of hoping you could confirm it completely.”

I breathe a small breath of relief to know that at least she hadn’t woken up completely nude. I suppose that doesn’t mean nothing happened for certain, but I have to imagine it’s as good of a sign as any that it didn’t. I also will myself not to picture what exactly she looked like before she covered up with my shirt.

“To be honest, I don’t remember much. The last thing I remember clearly is us dancing at the club,” I say, and this time, it’s her turn to blush, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. Looks like I’m not the only one who remembers what happened on that dance floor. Though, maybe that’s not necessarily a good thing. “I also remember us grabbing some more drinks and doing shots...” I stop, a blurry image of us doing body shots flashing through my mind, but I forcefully dismiss it, willing that thought to go right back to where it came from.

Her nose scrunches as she also seems to relive that same memory. “Yeah, I think after that, we went to another club before deciding that the only right way to celebrate being in Vegas was to do a totally Vegas thing and get hitched,” she explains, a low, strained whine escaping her throat.

“Yeah, unfortunately I don’t remember any of that,” I admit, since that’s the part where everything goes blank.

“That’s probably for the best. It’s not like it was a real wedding,” she says, folding her arms across her chest, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of my shirt. “I mean, obviously it was real, since we’re actually married, but it’s not like we’re going to stay married,” she rambles, throwing her arms into the air.

“Don’t worry,” I say, trying to swing my legs off the bed, but a groan escapes my lips as I’m instantly hit with a dizzy spell, fighting the urge to vomit. Honestly, I’m not even sure if it’s the hangover or the news, but right now I’m absolutely sick to my stomach. “I’m with you on this. It was just a dumb drunken mistake. We’ll get it taken care of,” I assure her, closing my eyes as one hand falls to rest on my stomach.

With a soft exhale, she sinks onto the bed beside me. “I can’t believe I ran away from one wedding only to end up married to someone who absolutely hates me,” she whines, letting her face fall into her hands as she slumps over.

I shouldn’t feel the need to comfort her, especially given my own worries, but I can’t help it. My hand lands softly on her back, tracing soothing circles. “Come on, you have to know I don’t hate you. If this past week has shown you anything, it should be that I only find you vaguely annoying.” I try to joke in an effort to lighten the mood, which, honestly, isn’t me. I should be yelling and screaming, since there’s no way I was the one who suggested getting married on a drunken whim. This has Veronica written all over it, along with being some crazy idea that only she could come up with. But I’m not about to let her shoulder all the blame, even if, right now, it’s tempting as hell.

“Oh, yes," she pouts, sitting up as I let my hand fall from her back. “Just what every new bride wants to hear: her husband only finds her vaguely annoying.” She scoffs, though there’s an amused lilt to her tone.

“Well, unfortunately for you, you may need to get used to it, because I’ve never claimed to be husband material. In fact, there’s a good reason I’ve chosen to remain single for the majority of my life.”

Sure, I’ve had a few occasional girlfriends, but there was a reason none of them ever worked out. The majority of those relationships ended with them breaking things off, not the other way around, making it easy to assume that I’m the obvious reason for the break-ups. Then again, what can they expect? I grew up with awful, shitty parents and grandparents as examples of what a relationship should be. While I’ve tried to live my life completely opposite of what I witnessed, I’ve also never been around anyone who’s had a fully functioning and healthy relationship.

“I guess that’s true. Drunk me really should have thought this through.” She sighs, a self-deprecating laugh bubbling up from her chest before escalating into full-blown manic laughter.

There is nothing even remotely funny about what we’re going through, and while I know this isn’t a laughing matter, I can’t help it—a grin somehow makes its way onto my face as I watch her lean forward, placing her hand on her stomach.

“I don’t even know why I’m laughing,” she admits through her giggles. “This isn’t funny. I mean, the whole reason I ran away from Pete was because I knew it was destined to end in divorce, yet here I am. Married and bound for exactly what I just ran away from,” she adds, her giggles dying down, but it doesn’t take long to realize that something is wrong as she reaches up to wipe at a few stray tears, as the laughter turns into heart-wrenching sobs.

“Hey, come on now,” I say, my protective instinct kicking in as I wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her into me. She melts into my embrace, burying her face into my chest. “I know this wasn’t something we wanted or planned for, but if you have to be married to someone only for it to end in divorce, at least it’s with me, right?” I ask, though given the way she continues to cry, I’m not sure how comforting that actually is. “I know I’m not always the nicest or friendliest guy in the world, and I’m probably the last, or maybe second-to-last person you want to be married to right now, but until we figure this out, I promise to treat you the way a wife, no—the way you—deserve to be treated, okay?” My hand moves upward, my fingers gently threading through her short brown hair in what I hope is a much-needed gesture of reassurance.

The tears still flow, but I assume there’s a sense of release in them, a way of letting go as she clutches me tightly as we sit together in the silence. While I know this isn’t a real or a traditional marriage by any stretch of the imagination, I meant what I said. I doubt I’ll ever truly be husband material, but I plan to take care of her. More than anything, I’ll do whatever I can to take away the hurt and pain I know continues to plague her.

Maybe that’s just a normal way for any man to feel about his wife, but given that she hadn’t ever been my first choice, this feels a little different. As I continue to hold her, one hand continually running through her hair as the other traces the contours of her back, one thing I know for sure is that I never want to see her cry like this again. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that while she’s in my care, she’s always happy, even if it means stepping out of my comfort zone. Right now, I’m willing to do just about anything to see Veronica Prescott smile.

21

---