I said I’d build him a house and keep an eye on him. The vet said I could call it whatever I wanted, as long as I signed papers and paid for his X-rays, because otherwise, if he went to the shelter, it wouldn’t be long before he was put down. He seemed like a safe bet, a living creature that would be hard to disappoint or inadvertently neglect when he wouldn’t even cross my threshold. When all he wanted was food and a few pats on the head, two meals a day, and somewhere safe and warm to sleep.
But as he barks happily at my house’s opening front door and bounds back and forth with the kind of energy and strength he didn’t have when he first started living here, I wonder if maybe we’ve done more than just coexist. If maybe being with me has been good for him. If for once, showing something a little love in the way that I could hasn’t been a complete disaster.
When he pounces on Rooney as she steps outside, a furious ache blooms beneath my sternum. Her hair is braided gold, an intricate knot accented by a sprig of plum-colored heather. Her ivory sweater dress swirls around her like wind-whipped snow, torturously leaving the silhouette of her body to my imagination. And then the dog lands his muddy paws on her pristine clothing.
All of us wince, except Rooney. Rooney laughs, warm and bright, all teeth and dimples and crinkled eyes, a face of pure happiness, right as the sun bursts out from behind the clouds. Soft, glittering, she looks like fresh snowfall kissed by sunlight.
Watching her, that ache in my chest burrows and deepens. I glance away and adjust my shirt cuffs, then my collar, my brain making the connection as I inspect myself—my goddamn boutonniere matches the heather in Rooney’s hair. I scowl at Parker, who snuck it in there half an hour ago, but Parker just smiles at me and wiggles his eyebrows.
Bennett sighs at Rooney and dabs his eyes.
I turn toward Lloyd, the officiant, who’s finally decided to join us.
“Aaaaaxellll,” Lloyd says slowly on a broad, lazy smile. “Congrats on the big day.” As I feared, he extends his hand.
“Shouldn’t shake.” I point to my nose and sniffle, probably unconvincingly. “Think I’m coming down with something.”
The lazy smile widens. “That’s cool, man. That’s cool. I appreciate the consideration.”
There’s something about his tone, the languid delivery and slow movements, that’s familiar. Curiosity forces me to do what I find intensely uncomfortable for how intimate it feels, and I meet his eyes. That’s when I notice they’re bloodshot, his pupils blown wide.
Fuck’s sake.
The officiant is high as a kite.
7
Rooney
Playlist: “It’s Nice To Have A Friend,” Taylor Swift
I’ve had three days to think over this marriage that I agreed to. I think I surprised myself as much as Axel when I volunteered to do it.
At first, I thought perhaps it was as simple as the fact that while I’m a lover and probably always going to be a bit of a romantic, I am deeply disillusioned with marriage, and so marrying someone for such purely practical reasons is nothing to me. But then I got thinking. And I realized it’s a little more complex than that.
I offered to marry Axel because right now, I feel helpless, at the whim of my unpredictable body and my furloughed plans. And doing something, having a purpose, a way of being helpful has given my life that structure and purpose that I was starving for. Without my days crammed from sunrise to sunset with school, without the grueling pace of the past few years, I’ve felt so lost.
But not now. Now I have intention again and a plan in place that I admire, even if only for a little while. I’m happily not getting an inheritance out of this, but I am getting something I desperately need: a direction, a purpose…and oddly enough, a sense of belonging. It’s not just Axel saving the A-frame, loving his family this way—it’s us. Together. Not as lovers, and probably not even quite as friends, but as partners. This plan takes both of us, fully committed to it. And that sense of connection, however practical and strategic, is something I didn’t know how much I wanted until it was right in front of me.
So here I am, looking a little more like my old self, thanks to a flattering, swingy dress, and the world’s best under-eye concealer. Ready to get married.
Married.
At least, once I deal with the dog’s enthusiastic, muddy hug.
“Well.” Standing behind me on the cabin’s threshold with a tiny spring of purple heather in her hands, Skyler sighs. “You got dirt on your dress.”
“I did. Nothing a little soapy water and a towel won’t fix, I think.”
“Here,” she says, handing me her heather posy, then skipping into the house. She comes back a moment later with a soft rag, wet with water and a squirt of soap.
“Thank you, Skyler.”
“You’re welcome.” Tipping her head, she watches me as I scrub the dirt out with a fair amount of success. “Are you gonna kiss Uncle Ax?”
I squeak and almost drop the rag. “Uh. Well. I’m not exactly—”
“He could use a kiss is all I’m saying.” She holds out her hand for the rag.
Hesitantly, I return it to her. “Why do you say that?”
“’Cause he’s grumpy. And kisses make the grumps go away.”
I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “I don’t think he’s that grumpy.”
She gives me a disbelieving look. “He’s so grumpy.”
“He’s serious. And quite possibly very shy. Not everyone is as social as you and me.”
“Why not? I don’t get it.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I watch Axel adjusting his cuffs, clearing his throat. He looks nervous. “I don’t either. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.”
“I still think a kiss would do the trick,” she says, walking back inside with the rag. “But I’m just a kid. What do I know?”
On a soft whine, the dog nudges my elbow and peers up at me. I pat his head gently, waiting until Skyler joins me again and takes my hand. “Let’s do this,” she says, tugging me along with her.
We cross the clearing together, and while I try to drink in the beauty of fading autumn—a rain shower of golden leaves swirling to the ground, the sun cutting lacework through the branches—all I see is Axel, daylight sparkling bronze in his rich brown hair, making his deep-green eyes glow.
Looking at him, I feel my heart leap, wild and happy, not unlike the pup who jumped into my arms. My heart has no business doing that. So I yank it back to heel, with a gentle but firm reminder: this marriage is a mutually beneficial arrangement, nothing more.
Stopping across from Axel, I smile at him and try really hard not to give him a good, long once-over, but he’s wearing that suit he wore to his LA art show, so resisting is impossible. He’s shaved, his face smooth once again, every angle in sharp relief—long, straight nose, those high cheekbones, lips pursed in a thoughtful frown. His gaze roams my hair, my mouth, then darts to the ground, pink warming his cheeks. He clears his throat and throws a look at the officiant Axel told me is Parker’s cousin, Lloyd.
“Lloyd.” I turn toward him and offer my hand. “Nice to meet you.”