Hopelessly Devoted (3 page)

I couldn’t stay angry with him; he was only doing what he thought was best for me. “Just as long as you promise not to go see them again. I’ve tried a few times to visit them over the years, to see if they’d missed me or...” I trailed off, not wanting to dwell any further. “Just promise to drop the subject, okay? My parents aren’t going to change.”

Paul smiled slightly. “Okay. I promise.”

“There is a way you can make it up to me.” I waggled my eyebrows. Paul’s eyes shone mischievously just before he yanked my jeans down and blew me on the couch.

IT WAS approaching the day of the wedding, and we had some last minute things to finalize. I wouldn’t let Paul waste money on a wedding planner—instead, we engaged the help of friends and family, and they were all put to work, with Sophia doing the bulk of the organizing. I still wasn’t sure a planner wasn’t hired behind my back.

We had talked about having the traditional giveaway, in the way that was customary for a father of the bride to do, but since I didn’t have a father in attendance, we nixed the idea, opting to walk down the aisle together, hand in hand.

“Neither of us is female, so it’s a moot point anyway,” commented Paul, sitting on the couch next to me as we looked over the final seating arrangements.

“I don’t know. I heard the way you screamed when you saw that spider in the bathroom. You sure you don’t have a hidden vagina?” I deadpanned.

“Not funny, babe. Did you see it? Hairy big bastard it was. You could’ve put a collar on it and given it to Dave as a playmate. You did kill it, didn’t you?”

“Nope.” I loved provoking him, and his fear of spiders provided endless entertainment.

As predicted, he jumped off the couch and looked around, eyes wild as he searched for the deadly man-eating beast. “What! You didn’t kill it? Why the fuck not?”

I loved him, so it wouldn’t be right to tease him for too long. That would be cruel. “Dave did.”

“Dave killed the spider?”

“I think so. Last I saw he was batting it around between his paws in a fight to the death, before he picked it up between his tiger-like fangs and took it back to his hidden slave-cave to feed his prisoners.”

Paul calmed down enough to sit next to me on the couch again. He sighed. “I’m surprised he didn’t piss on it.”

Two days later the spider’s mangled remains were found in Paul’s shoe, despite the self-closing closet door.

THE PRE-NUPTIAL disagreement—it had gotten to the point where it certainly wasn’t an
agreement
, and we’d been bickering about it for weeks—came to a head one Sunday night.

“I refuse to have a pre-nup drawn up.” Paul tilted his head and looked at me defiantly. We had finished dinner and were sitting on the couch in uncomfortable silence. We were both seething from arguing over this same subject yet
again
, so much so that Paul had found an excuse not to have lunch with me that day.

I took a deep breath to help keep my voice calm and pulled out the big guns. “Have you told your dad?” It was a low blow, and he knew it. His wide eyes told me that, no, Paul Senior had
not
been consulted.

“My father has nothing to do with this.”

“Yes, he does. If there’s no pre-nup I could ask for a share in his company.”

“But you wouldn’t do that.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But people don’t divorce because they’re on friendly terms. When someone fucks up badly enough, people lash out as a result. They want to hurt each other by any means possible. What if that happens to us?” I took another breath. “The only thing you could take from me that would hurt is Dave.”

“I would never take that little pissing machine away from you, no matter how badly you screw up.” Paul’s eyebrows drew together. “Who do you know that divorced? Your parents are still together.”

“A friend of mine in junior high. His parents went through hell and it was bitter and nasty. They had always seemed happy to me, but when his dad slept around, his mum went for the jugular with a chainsaw. It was horrible for all involved.” When Paul remained silent I continued, “Have you spoken to your lawyers?”

He stood abruptly and stalked to the window before turning to face me. “I won’t have you subjected to them. One of them already thinks you’re just another gold digger and told me I’m an idiot for getting involved with you in the first place.
If
something happens and we divorce, I will not have you walk away with nothing. You deserve more than that.” He started pacing the living area, but I needed to push him to see reason. I didn’t want his money; I never had.

“What if I screw up
so
much that you hate me? You’re not going to want to give me a red cent.”

“But you’re not like that!”

“What if I sleep around on you?”

Paul’s nostrils flared, and he continued to glare at me from across the room, his fists clenched tightly by his side. “You wouldn’t.”

I sighed. “No, I wouldn’t, but you don’t know what’s going to happen ten years from now. Or fifteen, or even twenty.”

We stared at each other in silence; neither of us was going to give in. I pulled my phone from my pocket and brought up Paul Senior’s number.

“Who are you calling?” Paul’s voice was tight, and I could tell he was struggling to control his temper.

I hit speaker as the phone began to ring, and I placed it on the coffee table. “Your dad.”

Before Paul could start on what I knew would be a huge tirade, his father’s voice came over the speaker. “Hello, Jason, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you, but your son’s about to blow a gasket.”

“Oh?”

“Has he spoken to you about our pre-nuptial agreement?” I asked. Paul glared at me and stepped closer.

“No, he hasn’t. I assumed he’d already sorted that out.”

I looked at Paul but spoke to his dad. “By
sorted out,
do you mean not bothering to have one made up?”

There was a brief pause before Paul Senior said, “Is he there with you?”

“Yes, he’s here.”

“Son? I think we need to talk. Meet me in my office tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock sharp.” I felt sorry for my Paul then. Being ordered to the boss’s office in that tone would’ve had me peeing my pants, and I hoped his dad would go easy on him.

Paul continued to glare at me, but answered his father, “Yes, sir.”

I ended the call. The look in Paul’s eyes made me want to shrink into the sofa, before he stormed away, slamming the door to the guest room.

That was the first night one of us slept in the spare bed.

The following morning Paul left for work before I woke up, and I didn’t see or hear from him all day. I was preparing dinner when he came home, and I placed the spoon down as he entered the kitchen. He looked annoyed, but less angry than he had last night.

“Hey there,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Paul said, appearing a little bummed out.

“Do what?” I tried not to smile. I had a feeling I had gotten my way.

“Dad wants to offer you a job. Said you have more sense than I do.”

“Well, in some cases that’s true.”

“Not funny. Here,” Paul said as he threw a manila folder on the counter. “You
will
sign it and we are not arguing about it anymore. I’m going for a shower.”

Paul stalked off down the hall as I read through the pre-nup. It stated that on the dissolution of the marriage I would get an initial payout equivalent to a named sum multiplied by the number of years of marriage. I would also receive an allowance for the ten years after the divorce. It wasn’t anywhere near what I could claim without the agreement being in place, and it would allow me to live comfortably, but not retire. It was acceptable, despite my reluctance to take anything. I signed the document and placed it back in the folder.

When Paul returned, dressed in sweatpants and nothing else, I was just about to dish up dinner. He looked at the folder and frowned. “Did you even look at it?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve signed it already. Sit down, dinner’s ready.”

“Is that it? Don’t you have anything else to say?’

“No, you said we’re not arguing about it anymore, and I think you’ve had a hard enough day as it is. Here, eat.” I pushed the plate of stir-fry toward him.

Paul’s shoulders slumped as he sat at the counter. “The old man ambushed me. When I entered his office, he had three lawyers there with him. The papers were already drawn up, awaiting my signature. I didn’t have a choice, but I argued with him anyway. He said it’s entirely possible that I love you too much to see clearly, that I needed to take the emotion out of it and do what was best for the company. He hopes you’re not offended.”

“Pfft, of course not. I would have preferred to walk away with nothing, but what’s being offered is reasonable, I guess. I don’t want to argue anymore either.”

“Nor do I, but I wouldn’t have you not looked after.”

“Even if I have an affair?”

“The pre-nup becomes moot then anyway. Because I’d kill you.”

“Fair call.”

AFTER SOPHIA finished calming my nerves, fixing my hair—I’d given in and gone to Pierre last week—and helping me look respectable enough to walk down the aisle next to her brother, she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” she said, grabbing my hands in her dainty ones, “you have five minutes. Breathe deeply and think of the honeymoon.” Her eyes twinkled. “When you hear the music, open the door, and Paul will be waiting for you. And stop fussing with your tie.” With another kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of my hands, she swept out of the room in a swish of silk to take her place at the front of the crowd.

Thinking of the honeymoon wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t want to face the hundreds of guests out there with a boner, and thinking of the reception was hell on my nerves. I thought of my parents, but that made me depressed. At least it killed my erection.

The next thing I knew, the music playing softly just outside my door grew louder. I peered out the window again and saw the guests, dressed in their stylish finery, stand and look toward the entrance. Their voices quieted as they awaited our arrival.

I squared my shoulders, took a deep, unfulfilling breath, and opened the door.

Paul stood waiting for me, as promised, dressed in a gorgeous tuxedo that hugged his hips and shoulders perfectly. When our eyes met, his smile took my breath away. He held out his hand for me to take.

“Breathe, babe.” He chuckled.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve probably been breathing the whole time.”

We stood facing each other, and Paul took my sweaty hands in his clean, dry ones. His eyes glistened with moisture.

“Do you love me?” I nodded. My ability to form words had left the building with Elvis. “Do you want to marry me?” I nodded more vigorously then. “Good. I promise to hold your hand the entire time. Just try and visualize everyone naked.”

“Even the women?” Yuck.

“Yes, even them.” Damn.

“What about the mayor? If I think about what he looks like under those hideous suits it’s going to kill any prospect of consummating our vows later.”

Paul frowned. “Just the women then.”

“Fine, if I must.”

“Ready?”

“No.”

Paul leaned in and kissed me, long and slow, until my knees buckled. I would’ve followed him into the center of the earth and down the stairs to meet the devil himself. On the face of it, walking down an aisle with him holding my hand the entire way—which in reality wasn’t that long, it just felt like miles—didn’t seem so bad.

Paul kept a tight hold of my hand as we made our way down the never-ending aisle, his thumb brushing over the pulse point in my wrist doing its bit to remind me to breathe, and I timed my breaths with the feel of his warm skin rubbing against mine.

I tried not to meet anybody’s eyes as we walked, but it was hard not to. Beaming faces turned to us, smiles as big as their wallets. The naked thing wasn’t working, and I feared I was cringing with every step, especially when I imagined Paul’s elderly aunt in the buff. Ick.

Before I knew it, we arrived at the front of the hall, and I found I didn’t need to imagine everyone naked as our backs were to the crowd for most of the proceedings.

We said our vows in front of the celebrant and the entire time I could hear sniffling behind us. I predicted it was either my new mother-in-law or Sophia, but I tuned them, and the rest of the crowd, out. It was easy to do when Paul stood in front of me, gazing into my eyes. His were clouded with emotion as he said his vows to me. We stayed with the traditional wording, with the exception of leaving out the “promise to obey”. Paul grumbled something about it being useless because I never did what he told me.

The ceremony was simple and understated. Paul wanted to keep it short so it wouldn’t fray my nerves too much, but I didn’t remember a lot of it anyway. Once our gazes met, and Paul promised to love me forever, that was all I could think about, everything else was just details.

After the nuptials were over, we gathered in the gardens of the manor for photographs and to greet our guests. It was a bit of a whirlwind, being dragged here and there to meet people I would never remember later and for the official photographs for the tabloids. I thought I saw my mother standing near the corner of the manor, but when I looked again, she wasn’t there. Paul stayed with me the entire time, never letting go of my hand and kissing me stupid whenever we had a second to ourselves, which wasn’t often.

It was so hectic I forgot to stop breathing.

The crowd dispersed after a short while, and I presumed they’d started to make their way back to the city for the reception at the Plaza. Paul said goodbye to his parents, then grabbed my hand, dragging me along behind him.

“Come on. It’s our time now.”

I was confused. “Didn’t we just have our time? It was
our
wedding, after all.”

“Nope, that was for them. This is for us.” Paul stopped in the car park at the front of the building and all I could see was....

“That’s a 1948 Ford Deluxe.”

“How do you know?” Paul seemed a little surprised that I would know
exactly
what type of car it was. Did my new husband not know me at all?