Page 15 of For the Record
Rachel: Not true. You gave a lot more than that the other night.
Who even are you?
Rachel: Rachel. Did we not already go over this? Geez, the old-man brain is kicking in early, huh?
Good night.
Rachel: Just remember to turn on your CPAP.
Currently playing: Float On by Modest Mouse
***
I was mid-stride, on my way to the tiny café in the hotel lobby, when a familiar manicured hand reached out to grab my wrist. I had the strength to not stop in place, but when it came to the blonde a few inches shorter and a heck of a lot more nimble than me, I’d given a lot of that strength up years ago.
I turned around to see Rachel biting her lip and looking up at me with these round, apologetic eyes. She pulled her hand back and wiped both of them across her denim shorts. Then she settled them in a grasp at her waist. The unease on her face alone was enough to make my heart race, but the undeniable tremble in her fingers set me on the edge.
Craning my neck, I looked to see if anyone was following behind her.
“What’s wrong? Did someone do something?”
She shook her head. “I need to talk with you.”
My stomach sank. She wanted to get the marriage annulled before we left. Wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened and scratch off our talk from last week. I couldn’t blame her. In fact, I had been waiting for that to happen. Didn’t necessarily make it any easier, though.
I took a glance back at the café and to the empty space down the hall, then pulled her with me there to keep my nosy family from seeing.
When we settled, her eyes had what looked like fear in them. I couldn’t hold back as both my hands gripped her shoulders and I dipped to force her to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
Rachel took a deep breath and raised both hands. “Hear me out.”
Without hesitation, I nodded.
She pointed an accusatory finger at me. “Do not yell at me.”
“I’ve never once done that.”
“Mmm. Are you sure?”
“Why would I ever yell at you?”
“Sometimes you do it with your eyebrows.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please get this over with.”
She sighed deeply. “Okay, okay.” She puffed out her chest, lifting up her head to me. “I think…we should stay married.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
Rachel raised her hands in defense. “Hear me out. I know it’s crazy, but we—wait.” She pulled back. “Did you just say okay?”
“I did.”
“Adam, you can’t—” she sputtered. “This isn’t like us agreeing to split a lunch or something. I’m talking marriage. I would be your wife. W-I-F-E. Wifey for lifey would become a real, daily term.”
“I’m familiar with the concept. Though I would rather not call you wifey. Now or ever.”
She scoffed. “You haven’t even heard my reasoning. Why would you just say yes?”