HisMarriageBargain (3 page)

“Wow, um, my wife is picking me up for lunch…”

Awkward.

“Oh, that’s okay. I knew it was a long shot anyways.” She
mustered a nervous chuckle but her heart fell another peg.

There was a moment of silence, then a squeak as if from a
chair.

“You know what, maybe after Ester and I run a couple of
errands we can swing by. Can you give me the address of the shop?”

Autumn didn’t believe him for a second, but she rattled off
the address anyway and said goodbye. She’d done a lot of things in life on her
own; shopping for her wedding dress would just be one more.

There was a new text on her phone, so she pulled it up and
found herself smiling when she saw Sammi’s name.

Got flights for tomorrow. Don’t forget to pack your
bikini.

Autumn chuckled. Half the time she hung out with Sammi
involved a bathing suit out on the lake near his condo, at some pool party or
an evening dip in the hot tub after clubbing.

Bikinis, wedding dress and sunscreen. Anything else?

“Here we go,” Rose said in a singsong voice as she hauled
dresses longer than she was tall into a dressing room.

Autumn followed her and eyed the gowns. There was an awful
lot of white.

In short order Autumn squeezed herself into a corset her
breasts threatened to pop out of and Rose dropped a gossamer gown over Autumn’s
head. Autumn pulled the straps up and studied her reflection.

Rainbow tattoos encased her arms, her hair fell in long,
gently curling waves and the white dress didn’t have a hope or a prayer of
containing her breasts. The corset was clearly visible by a few inches over the
bustline of the dress.

But Autumn was in a wedding dress.

A real live wedding dress. Except it wasn’t a creature, it
was clothing, but it embodied the symbol of what was about to happen in her
life. A change. Stepping into something new.

Her muscles went lax and she trembled for a moment. She was
really doing this.

“This one isn’t zipping up all the way,” Rose muttered,
breaking into Autumn’s thoughts after a moment of tugging. She leaned around
Autumn to peer at her reflection. “What do you think of this though?”

“It’s, um, it’s pretty, but—I’m not this elegant.” She
lifted the top layer of transparent skirts and held them out to her sides. The
empire waist and layers of skirts would be lovely. On someone else.

“I picked this one because it would be beautiful for a beach
wedding, but if you don’t love it, it’s not the one. Let’s get you into
another, and I want you to step out onto the pedestal this time.” Rose’s tone
brooked no argument. Autumn didn’t know how much difference a six-inch lift and
a different mirror would make, but she was game to try.

Rose kept Autumn’s back to the mirror with the second dress.
The skirt stuck out on either side with weird poochy areas and little crystals
all over. Autumn wasn’t sure what it would look like, possibly cupcake shaped,
but at this point anything was better than the nothing she had.

“Step out here and tell me what you think.” Rose pushed the
door open and beamed at her as if Autumn were her own daughter.

Autumn intentionally kept her eyes on the ground until she
and her entire skirt were up on the pedestal. She sucked in a deep breath and lifted
her chin.

The woman looking back at her was, well, she was beautiful.
Her boobs were sky-high and she was ready to go down a runway—not the beach.
She was corseted to within an inch of her life, her bustline was bedazzled and
rhinestoned, ready to signal outer space, and her skirt did have an oddly
misshapen cupcake silhouette.

Cupcakes were fine and all for her tattoos, but not her
clothing.

“These pickups give the skirt an interesting movement that
might not try to fly away from you.” Rose gestured toward the little poochy
areas that had stuck out to Autumn in the dressing room. “Also, it has the
bling you wanted.”

Autumn couldn’t deny that the dress fit her, where the other
had not. All it would need was a hem job. She tried to picture herself walking
toward Sammi, holding a bouquet, the sea breeze in her hair.

And she just couldn’t see it.

“It is sparkly. And it does fit. But…I’m just not in love
with it. Sorry.” She winced and glanced at Rose.

Rose merely nodded. “It’s okay. If it’s not the one, it’s
not the one. Let’s get you into another.”

Rose ushered her back into the dressing room and into
another gown.

And another.

And another.

And another.

As Autumn gazed at herself wearing yet another dress perfect
for someone else, she felt her hope slipping away. There weren’t many options
left.

“Rose, I’m just not sure.” Autumn smoothed her hands over
her hips, watching herself in the large mirrors. The pedestal made her feel
like an Amazon. The style was a mermaid, and though Autumn would love to wear a
dress like this, it was one size too small and her breasts were barely
contained by a four-inch-wide strap of fabric.

“Oh dear.” Rose wrung her hands. They had three gowns left,
none of which looked interesting enough on the rack to put on.

This was her last option. So far the best thing was a short
cocktail dress her breasts tried to fall out of.

“There you are,” someone said nearby.

Autumn glanced to her right and her jaw dropped. “Isaac?”

Isaac, in a suit with a modestly trendy woman on his arm,
stopped a few feet away. Their eyes were large, taking in the full impact of
Autumn’s overflowing breasts and the tattoos.

“Hi.” Autumn pressed her hands over her breasts and smiled.
“Yeah, this one doesn’t fit well.”

Isaac gestured at the woman to his side. “Autumn, this is my
wife Ester.”

Ester smiled and spread her arms open. Autumn accepted the
invitation from the stranger and bent and hugged her.

“Nice to meet you.” Ester stepped back. She had a kind smile
and a sweet, heart-shaped face. “How many more do you have to try on?”

“Well, I think we might be done. I only have today to shop.”
Autumn stepped off the pedestal, disappointed that there wasn’t anything to
show for it.

“I’m sure there’s something that’ll work.” Isaac frowned and
glanced around the shop. “You can’t have tried on that many. We came straight
over. There’s got to be over a thousand dresses here.”

“I have an idea.” Rose’s brow wrinkled and there was a
certain determined curve of her mouth that made Autumn think she was planning
something.

“About what?” Autumn asked.

“Let me go look real quick. I’ll be back.” Rose marched off,
no doubt formulating her battle plans.

“What’s the problem?” Ester glanced between the two of them.
“I’m sorry, I only learned about fifteen minutes ago what’s going on. I’m still
getting up to speed.”

“It’s happening pretty fast.” Autumn nodded. “I’ve tried on
about seven dresses. They either fit in one place and not in another or the
dress is completely inappropriate.”

Autumn did know what was appropriate at times. Not always,
but every now and then she did. She just chose to ignore it more often than
not.

“Are you looking at any other shop?” Ester asked.

Autumn shrugged and tried to come up with an answer that
didn’t pain her to speak, but there was nothing to say except the truth. “I
didn’t really figure a wedding dress into my budget, so I’m limited in where I
can go shopping. Plus not everyone will see a bride who needs a same-day
dress.”

Ester glanced at Isaac. “I don’t know about that. I think we
could make something happen.”

Isaac shrugged. “Sure.”

The difference between Sammi’s circle of people and her own
could not be more pronounced. Her friends would pass a hat, donate five dollars
each and hope it was enough. She wasn’t too proud to accept the gift, but Isaac
and Ester weren’t her friends. Not yet at least.

“That’s very nice of you—”

“I found it!” Rose breezed back, carrying a black bag that
looked very slim.

“Is that for me?” Autumn asked.

Please let it be perfect.

“It is. Now I will warn you it’s a little unorthodox, but I
thought you’d really like it.” Rose pulled the dressing room door open and held
it for her. The black dress bag mocked her, disclosing nothing about its
contents.

“Hey, that sounds like me.” Autumn stepped off the pedestal
with a hand from Isaac and wiggled her way over to the dressing room, where she
peeled out of the latest dress disaster and closed her eyes, not wanting to
spoil the surprise.

Rose dropped the gown over her head and tugged it into
place. Autumn could feel light, flowing fabric brushing her calves. A halter
top held her breasts in place without feeling too exposing. The only downside
was that it felt a little big through the bodice. She felt clamps being applied
to the back of the dress to mold it to her body.

“Let’s take a look now.” There was no missing the sense of
excitement in Rose’s voice.

Autumn stepped out of the dressing room and her gaze flicked
to Isaac and Ester. Their brows rose in unison, but she couldn’t tell if it was
bad or good. She stepped onto the pedestal and turned to examine herself.

“Oh—my—gosh.” Autumn clapped her hands over her mouth.

It was too perfect for words.

“It’s actually a bridesmaid dress, but I thought it might
work for you.” Rose stood to her side, a proud smile on her face.

“The dress is unique.” Ester circled to stand on Autumn’s
other side. A slow smile spread across her face. “You love it, don’t you?”

Tears pricked Autumn’s eyes. She picked at the skirt,
swishing it around her thighs. “I do. Is that stupid?”

“No, not at all. The dress kind of picks you, if you ask me.
It really suits you.” Ester’s smile was genuine.

Autumn turned this way and that.
Overwhelmed
was a
mild word to use.

“Here.” Rose stepped onto the platform behind her and
fastened a short, netlike veil into her hair. It only covered down to her chin,
but something about it completed the look. A little jewelry, some makeup and
she was a bride.

A real bride.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Oh Autumn, you look beautiful.” Ester squeezed her arm.

Autumn turned to the woman and hugged her. Her friends and
mother weren’t there, but she’d take what comfort she could.

“What’s wrong?” Rose, ever astute, steered her to the couch
and offered her some tissues.

When she could see again, Isaac had disappeared and Ester
and Rose sat on either side of her. Autumn wiped her nose again.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“No, it’s okay.” Ester rubbed her bare back in soothing
circles.

“You look beautiful, and we can get it taken in just a bit,”
Rose offered.

“Thank you. I really appreciate this. I just, well, I never
thought I’d actually be a bride.” She’d never expected to find someone who
loved more than her body, let alone a ring.

“You are a beautiful bride,” Ester crooned.

Autumn wiped a fresh fall of tears from her cheeks. “That’s
just it. I’ve always been told that because of my tattoos I would never be a
‘beautiful bride’.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Rose snorted. “You’re a beautiful young
lady. Of course you’re a beautiful bride.”

“Someone said that to you?” Ester gaped at her.

Autumn had to laugh at that. “I guess you’d be surprised by
what people say to me, but yeah. I’ve been told that. More than once.” She
wiped her eyes and laughed. Fuck the disbelievers. All of them.

She’d seen herself in the mirror.

She knew the truth.

She was every inch a beautiful bride.

Gray Wash—Style typically used for portraits. It has a
smooth appearance and lends itself to the dark-to-light gradient.

Sammi strode through his family’s large home. The only sound
was his loafers on the marble flooring. He’d grown up in this house, but it had
never felt very homey. There was too much history, too much formality in the
carved columns, oil paintings and leather furniture to evoke warm thoughts, but
Father had been proud of it.

His father had sat with him on more than a few evenings
during Sammi’s recovery as a teen, telling him anything was possible. How their
family had fled from Iran with little to nothing, and yet they’d built
themselves into a real estate powerhouse. After all, Persians owned property,
they didn’t rent it. Purchasing this home had marked his parents’ successful
rebirth into American life.

He stepped through French doors to the sunroom. His mother’s
domain. Flowers sat on wire racks, little beds were constructed along the
walls. It was a piece of the outdoors in the comfort of air-conditioning. Soft
gauze curtains diminished the midday glare from the sun, but only a little.

“Samuel, there you are. You’re late.” His mother, Tamara
Zimmerman, sat at a white wicker table set with lunch and tea, wearing her
trademark frown.

“Hello, Mother.” Sammi bent and hugged her shoulders gently.
While his mother was something of a hypochondriac, there was no denying her
advancing age, and the death of her husband wore on her. There was more gray in
her hair, her shoulders stooped lower each year and her frown lines had grown
deeper.

“Sit. Have some tea.” She patted the table with one hand and
lifted her flower-print porcelain cup to her lips.

Sammi folded himself into the small chair and tucked his
legs under the table. “You’re looking well.”

More accurately, she didn’t appear to be any worse or better
since the last time he’d seen her, but he’d learned long ago to put a positive
spin on everything. She was perfectly coiffed, from her chin-length bob to her
pale-green brocade suit and white loafers.

“Nonsense. This heat is giving me hives.” Tamara waved her
hand, dismissing Sammi’s attempt at derailing her imaginary ailments. Their
family had had a doctor on speed dial since he was a kid, and it hadn’t always
been for Sammi’s benefit. Someone was always “coming down with something”
around the Zimmerman house.

“I can’t even tell. What’s for lunch today?” He grasped the
metal cloche covering the meal and whisked it aside.

“Fish. The chef is out sick this week. I told her to be
careful about shopping at those bargain stores.” Tamara wrinkled her nose,
disgusted by the idea of anything that wasn’t from a kosher store.

Sammi didn’t have the heart or desire to tell her even
kosher grocery stores carried only specialty items. She’d come down with five
different illnesses if she knew that her kosher food might share shelf space
with potato chips.

Tamara continued to speak, unaware of Sammi’s mental aside.
“I’m making do with a temporary replacement. The woman seems to only be capable
of cooking simple things.” She removed the cloche from her meal and one of the
hired help appeared to spirit both away.

Sammi shrugged and grinned. “I like fish. It’s hard to get
wrong. Even I can cook it.” The small filets appeared to have been rubbed with
seasoning and baked. He bit into the first one and an unexpected medley of
flavors burst on his tongue. There were spices present the regular chef
wouldn’t have used and maybe shavings of some kind of nut. Whatever the
variation, it was delicious and perfect.

“Disgusting.” His mother dropped her fork back on her plate
and turned her attention to the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave an excellent
view of the well-manicured backyard through the sheers.

“It’s not too bad.” There were some battles he would never
win with her. He cut the filet into bite-sized chunks and popped another in his
mouth.

“I spoke with Dalya’s parents yesterday.”

Sammi reached for his teacup, wishing it were cold water, or
better yet a beer. Instead he tossed back the bitter brew, coughing only a
little. How he hated her tea. But she always insisted it helped cure any
ailments and so everyone who stepped foot under this roof drank some. Even the
help. “Yeah?”

Tamara turned to glance at him from the corner of her eye.
“She’s willing to have you back—”

“I’m sure she is,” he muttered.

“If you apologized.”

“What? Oh hell no.” He shook his head and wiped his mouth.

Sammi had no interest in reconnecting with Dalya, a Jewish
heiress with no sense of humor. It didn’t matter how fat her bank accounts
were, he wouldn’t spend the last months of his life with someone he couldn’t
stand. No, Autumn would be his companion.

“Samuel, language.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. There was no way he could
tell his mother about his illness returning. She was supposed to be recovering
from a psychological condition and his sickness would only compound her
problem. Then there was Autumn, whom he most certainly couldn’t tell her about.
No, it was better to keep things separate. By the time it all came to a head he
would be gone.

“Sorry, Mom. I broke up with Dalya. It’s over.” He braced
for her rebuttal. As far as marriage went, he’d gotten off lucky compared to
most Jewish men his age. Typically it was pressed upon them to marry and carry
on the family legacy, but his parents had lived with the uncertainty of his
survival for so long that marriage had never been a reality.

She shrugged. “Fine.”

Wait—what?

Sammi took a bite of fish, surreptitiously watching his
mother.

Mother dropped her napkin on the table and sighed
dramatically. “Tomorrow we will have to go out to lunch. This is unacceptable.
I’m going to starve. I think Chef isn’t on vacation. I think she came down with
something.”

“Sure, we can go out to lunch,” he said automatically,
ignoring her complaints.

There was just one catch.

Tomorrow he would be headed to St. Maarten.

To get married.

* * * * *

Autumn clutched the railing on the stairs of their tiny
luxury plane and willed her rubbery legs to hold her at least until she got to
the tarmac. It wouldn’t do to face-plant into the diva lady in front of her and
tumble down like a stack of dominos.

A few more steps and she’d officially be on the island.

“You going to be okay?” Sammi asked her from behind. His
voice was stolen away almost immediately by the wind blowing in from the sea.

“Fine.”

Six more steps.

Autumn held her breath until her toes touched the sun-warmed
ground. She breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled to one side so she could
admire the view.

“Oh I could kiss the ground, but I might throw up moving
that fast,” she said to Sammi.

There were buildings interspersed with palm trees and flowers
here and there. In the distance she could see the blue expanse of the ocean
kissing the sky. Fluffy white clouds chased each other overhead and the scent
of flowers perfumed the air.

It was beautiful.

And hot.

“Our ride’s here.” Sammi took her large tote and gestured
behind them.

What appeared to be a stretch golf cart waited to ferry them
to the terminal, where regular-sized jets were landing. She doubted those
bigger, sturdier vessels would get tossed around like they had making the hop
from Houston to the island. But they probably didn’t have seats that could lay
out flat, champagne service or a team of attendants offering hors d’ouevres.

Sammi’s hand curved around her waist, bringing her back into
the moment. He’d been incredibly sympathetic to her nausea during the flight,
even offering her some medicine to take care of it, but she’d declined the offer.
With her mother as an example, Autumn avoided drugs like the plague. It wasn’t
always a rational decision, but it was hers to make.

“I think I’m good,” she said, resisting the urge to shift
her weight closer to him, but only barely.

“Come on, it’s still early.” He grinned at her, the picture
of a handsome, healthy man.

“Is a nap scheduled in here at some point?” She knew the
answer already.

“Afraid not.” Sammi slid his hand to her hip and snagged her
other hand in his as they approached the last available row of seats.

Their fellow passengers avoided her, which was common. To
the wealthy and privileged she appeared to be nothing more than an escort.

Well, screw them.

Today was her wedding day.

Autumn squeezed Sammi’s hand. He glanced at their fingers
threaded together. It was impossible to read his expression behind the large
aviator shades, but he seemed surprised.

During the flight Sammi had told her in plain language that
he didn’t expect anything from her. At least not where sex was concerned. It
simply was not part of their bargain. He’d basically promised to pay her to be
his live-in friend. It was noble and unexpected, maybe a bit sweet, but terribly
naïve.

They entered the terminal and the first thing Autumn saw was
a man in a suit with a sign that read
Mr. & The Future Mrs. Zimmerman
.

“Holy shit.” Autumn clapped her hand over her mouth. Seeing
it in print, it just ratcheted up her nerves.

I’m going to be sick…

Sammi laughed and extended his hand to the stoic sign holder.
“Thanks for picking us up.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Zimmerman. The porter is seeing to your
luggage. If you’ll follow me this way to the car?”

They made their way through the airport to where a limo
waited for them. As if by magic, a man pushing a cart loaded with their bags
rolled up at almost the same time. The driver opened the back door and Sammi
handed her into the cool interior.

Autumn almost didn’t want to get into the limo. It was
beautiful outside, if a little too warm, but it was almost a shame to get into
the car. Still, she scooted across the rear seat, Sammi dropping in next to her.
He extended his legs and let his arms flop on the seat. The way his head lolled
to the side was how she felt after a full day’s work tattooing.

“Sammi?”

“Hm?”

“How you feeling?” She turned toward him and studied what
she could see of his face. Maybe the lines around his mouth were deeper, his
color a little green. Or maybe she was imagining it.

“I’ll be fine.” He sighed and stilled.

Sammi appeared to be healthy. It was easy to forget—he was
dying.

Autumn patted his knee. “Why don’t we make an hour to take a
nap?”

“Can’t. Have to find someone to do the ceremony.” He sounded
so tired. Autumn hadn’t been concerned during the flight. With both of their
attentions on keeping the contents of her stomach in place, she hadn’t thought
about how Sammi was doing.

The driver got into the front of the limo and they pulled
away, firmly on to an adventure neither would forget.

“Why don’t I do that?” she suggested.

How hard could it be to drum up a rabbi, photographer and a
witness or two?

After a moment Sammi turned toward her and pushed his
sunglasses up on his brow. His eyes were bloodshot and sleepy. “Is that too
much to ask?”

“To get everything set up? No. I can do that.”

“Okay.” He dug his wallet out of the side pocket on his
cargo shorts. “Here’s my credit card. I had you added to it so you should be
able to use it without any trouble. And here’s five hundred in cash.” He
produced the card and a wad of bills.

Autumn tried to keep her eyes from bulging out. “Wow.”

“Just get whoever is closest to the hotel for the ceremony.
I don’t care if it’s a religious person or civil servant.” He shrugged and
relaxed into the leather seats.

Sammi was Jewish. Autumn didn’t know a whole lot about
Judaism, but she knew a few things. And a Jewish wedding needed a rabbi and
some kind of canopy thing with a name that sounded like a sneeze.

“I’ll take care of it. You just get to feeling better.”
Autumn slid the money into her tote and pressed a kiss to Sammi’s cheek.

It was going to be a very long day.

* * * * *

Sammi collapsed onto the plush couch in the living room of
their suite. His legs and arms ached. Fear was an acid that ate at him from the
inside out. Knowing this was how he would go out and accepting it were two very
different things.

Autumn zoomed from room to room. She’d bounced back once
they landed and now had the luggage in the bedroom. All he could hear was
squealing. It brought a smile to his face that he could share this beautiful
paradise with her. This only solidified his reasoning that she was the perfect
companion for this last leg of life.

“Hey, I got you some water,” Autumn said quietly.

He cracked his eyes open and the world slowed to a stop.
Something about the way the light caressed her tilted face, the fall of her
hair over one shoulder and the tropical blossom stuck behind her ear. It stole
his breath away.

“Sammi?” Autumn’s face scrunched and she pressed her hand to
his brow. She’d put on her glasses after complaining the airplane air had dried
out her contacts. Her chunky and colorful frames seemed like an extension of
her. She wore them so rarely he often forgot she needed them.

“I’m good.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled
her palm down to rest against his chest.

“Do you need anything else?” She crouched next to the couch,
her hand stroking his chest.

We’re friends.

He needed to remember that.

It was going to be a bitch to keep things platonic now, but
later when he was declining it would be easier.

“No thanks. You like the suite?”

“Like it? It’s amazing. I feel like I shouldn’t touch
anything because I’ll get it dirty.” She grinned and he could have sworn birds
were singing. It was fucking insane.