Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“What if you meet someone and want to get real married?”
I huff out a breath. “That’s never going to happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
“But you know you’re not going to want to be serious about someone again?”
Donovan sighs. “Fine, but if you do meet someone, I’ll divorce you whenever you want.”
“Deal. And I’ll divorce you if you meet someone too.”
It strikes me how ridiculous this conversation is. The second I let out laughter, Donovan is doing it too, likely coming to the same realization.
“We’re so weird,” he says when we settle down.
“I think we’re perfect.”
He takes his gaze off the road for a moment and looks my way, offering a small, sweet smile I’m not sure I’ve seen from him before. It blows my mind a little because I feel like I should know all Donovan’s smiles by now.
“And remember, if you want to have sex, you totally can,” he says, and I’m suddenly choking on something invisible in my throat. Donovan wants me to fuck him? “Not with me, you dope. With other people.”
Oh, well, that makes more sense. “Obviously. Something went down the wrong pipe.”
“Air?” Donovan counters.
“You’re not being very nice to me.” I cross my arms.
“I’m the nicest to you. Now back to the topic of sex, I really want to make sure you know that. With people—”
“Who aren’t you.”
“I doubt you’d want to do it with people who are me.”
“I doubt you’d want to do it with people who are me too.” How much easier would my life be if I was into dudes, though. Donovan and I would have the best relationship ever. But he’s the one and only best friend I’ve ever had or will ever have, and that’s enough for me.
“We’re rambling again. The point is, our agreement doesn’t have to interrupt your sex life.”
“Bet. Same for you. Wanna snack?” I reach in the back and grab the bags of food we brought.
“I’m fine. Do you think we need to come up with some kind of timeframe?”
I open a granola bar. “Why are you being so official? It’s not a big deal. It’s just us.”
“Because we’re getting married!”
“Convenience married!” I counter.
“I’m just saying, I don’t want this to blow up in our faces and cause issues between us.”
My throat feels like it closes, and I’m not so hungry anymore. “Wait. Why would it come between us? You said nothing will ever come between us. Are you sure you’re not having second thoughts? If you don’t want to marry me, just say so.” Jesus, does Donovan not want to marry me anymore?
“What? No. I want to marry you. I’m just saying we might want to consider some ground rules. We can always reevaluate.”
I guess it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to be my Insurance Daddy forever. “Maybe until I get on my feet? And find another job—with coverage this time.”
“And mine is probably better anyway, and less expensive. We can say, like, a year for now, unless you want a divorce sooner.”
I grin. “Deal. We’re good at this marriage stuff already.”
Donovan lets the topic go, and I wonder if he’s nervous about this. Surprisingly, I’m not.
We chat about random stuff as we make our way to Vegas, which I must admit, isn’t one of my favorite cities. We were able to get in quickly to get married, though, which we need to do since he only has a couple of days off before he heads back to work. An appointment at the courthouse back home was months out.
We’re also moving my shit into his place. I emailed my landlord that I won’t be renewing my lease. Really, it’s shocking we haven’t moved back in together before now, but at some point we went through this stupid phase where we thought it was healthy to get some space between us. That mostly came from other people, and I let that get into my head—the questions about our relationship, saying neither of us will ever meet someone else when we’re so entangled, blah, blah, blah. Now, I can’t figure out why I let that sway me. Who cares if Donovan and I are “abnormally” close?
These are the things I’m focusing on rather than everything else going on in my life. When I called Cliff last night to tell him about my ankle, the asshole fired me—which I’m sure isn’t legal, but am I going to fight it? That’s not really my style. I thought Donovan was going to blow a gasket, but then he’d gone into fix-it mode, telling me how I’m better off without Cliff, that it’s not like he was keeping me busy anyway, and I’d find a much better job once my ankle healed.
Before I know it, we’re pulling into Las Vegas.
“I can’t believe I’m getting married on crutches and in basketball shorts.”
Donovan makes a right turn. “I’m sure your real marriage will be much better.”