Amelia had arranged for a small reception, and I did my best to get my head in the game, but it was reeling. Just after Thanksgiving, I had driven into Las Vegas with the plan to marry one man, and now, the day after Christmas, I was marrying another. It wasn't for love, but as it turned out, my marriage to Dean wouldn't have been for love, either. In many ways, I was thankful I had caught him and Caryn because I don't think I would have realized that our marriage was going to be fake before it was too late.
I’d wanted a real marriage, and yet here I was, in a fake one. Of course, I knew what I did. I’d agreed to it. But before, it was just a crazy, vague idea. I hadn’t thought about the actual ceremony and how disingenuous or legal it was.
James had been right. Amelia arranged for photos of us that would be posted to the company’s social media accounts. It would generate an air of legitimacy to the marriage.
It was strange how relieved I was when James and I left, considering how often he and I were annoyed at each other. Plus, we were married. Was that going to be awkward?
But once I was in the car and didn’t have to pretend to be in love, things went back to normal.
He drove us out of the community, and once on the main road, he pulled to the side and stopped. He rested his hands on the steering wheel and dropped his head, shaking it.
"Are you okay?" I asked. He looked like I felt. Like the world was upside down.
"I can't believe we just did that." And then he laughed. I was surprised because James very rarely smiled, much less laughed. "We’re fucking crazy."
I joined in on the laugh. "I think we established that when we agreed to this scheme."
He turned his head to me. "You're okay?"
"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"
"Because there were a few moments there when I thought you were going to hurl your breakfast all over me."
"To be honest, there were a few moments I felt that way too."
He smirked. "Thank you for not hurling on me."
He put the car in gear, and we drove to the private section of the airport and boarded a private plane. My family's economic and social status was above middle class, but it wasn't in the private charter class. I'd never been on a private plane before, and I couldn't deny how luxurious it felt.
Soon, the plane lifted off the ground and headed over California toward the Pacific and to the Hawaiian Islands.
James had talked about us getting to know each other and solidifying our fake relationship story during the honeymoon, but not long after we had hit cruising altitude, he pulled out his laptop and said he wanted to do some work. Of course, I was annoyed. What was I supposed to do for six hours? At the same time, it was exactly what we’d agreed upon. This marriage was to help him in business. My job was to support him, so I asked him what I could do to help.
He waved me away, saying I could enjoy the flight. So I did. I drank way too much champagne and then took a long nap in the bedroom.
Although it was evening when we arrived in Hawaii, it was eleven at night in Las Vegas and I was still tired. We checked into the suite at the hotel, and I immediately showered, put on my pajamas, and climbed into bed to sleep.
The next morning, I woke and found James sitting at the table still working. He was wearing a T-shirt and lounge pants. It was odd to see him dressed so informally. He wore a suit well, but he looked hot in the T-shirt that showed off the planes of his chest.
"Are you going to work the whole time?" I poured myself a cup of coffee from the carafe he’d ordered from room service.
He didn't take his gaze off the computer screen. "One day married, and you’re already nagging me."
I think he meant that to be funny, but sometimes with James, it was hard to tell.
"Two things, James. One, all work and no play makes James a very dull boy. Two, if you're logging into the company while on the honeymoon, then people at work will question what sort of husband you are that you're working instead of spending time with your new bride."
His face ticked in a movement I'd come to recognize he made when he knew I was right. "Just let me finish this."
"You can do whatever you want. I'm just trying to protect the illusion. Me? I'm going to go to the beach." I took my coffee into my room and dug my swimsuit out of my bag, thankful I had decided to bring it with me when I’d planned to elope with Dean. At the time, I figured there might be an opportunity to go into a hot tub, so I brought it.
I put on the bikini and then went into the bathroom to pull my hair back into a hair tie. It had been a while since I'd worn a bathing suit, so like any woman would, I took a moment to see how it fit and how I looked in it. I wasn't a skinny woman by any means. I don't think I could've appeared skinny even if I had zero fat on my body. Curves were built into my bones.
But I had the right proportions. My hips were the same size as my bust, and my waist tapered in, giving me the hourglass shape. There was a day when that was the ideal, but I think that was way back during the 1940s or 50s. Even so, I wasn't unhappy with my body. I liked my curves and I liked the suppleness of my body.
Shifting the bikini top to make sure the girls were adequately secured, I grabbed a towel and headed out of the bathroom. I hadn't packed a swim cover, so I was going to have to walk out in my suit. Since the beach was right off the suite’s terrace, it wasn't like I would have to walk through the hotel to get where I wanted to go.
I brought my empty coffee cup, set it on the tray I'd picked it up from, and then grabbed a bottled water from the mini fridge.