Ari
“What do you mean that was the marriage license?” I gasp, whipping a glare towards Carl who innocently shuffles his papers and taps them against the heavy wood of the table.
“Relax, Ari. It only puts a ninety day count down on our wedding. That’s all. And we’d already agreed to marry sooner than that.”
I don’t answer, crossing my arms over the beautiful dress I’d purchased years ago but never worn. Back then, I could afford all the elegant dresses I wanted. Back then, Noah and I had been head over heels for one another.
Or that’s what I thought.
I was a naive, silly little girl. So much had changed.
Or had it?
Every time I looked at Noah, I still felt that same familiar bubbling inside of me. Like trapped butterflies were trying to burst out my stomach. It was wonderful and scary and nauseating all at the same time.
To be honest, I hated the handsome man a bit for it.
I’d hoped my reaction to his lopsided smirk would have faded in the years since our fall out.
But it hadn’t. If anything, it was worse now. It didn’t help that Noah was as stern and cool as ever. While I noticed every rise and fall of his broad chest as he breathed and the slight fidget of his hands in his pockets, my fake fiancé barely seemed to notice me at all.
Why was it only me that was cursed with the memory of our love? Why did it haunt me and not him?
I suppose it wouldn’t. With how quickly he abandoned me.
A faint clamor from outside made Noah stiffen upwards, jerking his chin towards Carl who began packing away the proof of our false nuptials.
“The guests are here.” I murmur curiously, drawing Noah’s dark eyes towards me.
They churn, two stormy black orbs on his strong set face. His jaw is clenched, cheek pulsing slightly as he grinds his teeth.
“This isn’t just some little party, is it?” I ask quietly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear that has escaped from the bun on the nape of my neck.
Every inch of the man looks like it’s set on edge, like he’s waiting for an attack or for something to spring out of the shadows in the corner of the room.
Noah shakes his head in simple response, walking swiftly towards the back of the home as I stand hastily follow, my eyes watching the shine of passing chandelier light illuminate his chiseled back. I almost want to beg him not to put on a shirt.
He’s too handsome and perfect to cover up.
I want to admire him for a little while longer.
“This isn’t a party, this is a show.” He sighs, dragging a button up shirt over his rugged shoulders. The fabric strains against his strong body, like it’s threatening to burst, “We have to prove our relationship to these people. We have to make them believe we’re in love, that we’re stable, that I’m trustworthy.”
His fingers deftly dance up the buttons, sliding them into place. All the while, his eyes are locked on me, appraising my capability for such an important audience.
I can more than handle this. Growing up with my family, practically everything was a show, everything about us was a display.
There were the little get togethers with only four hundred of my parents’ closest friends where my sister and I were put on display to talk about our latest achievements in schooling or dance. There were the parties more about my parents’ latest purchases of ancient silverware than about seeing family. Our daily outfits and schedules were carefully crafted. Nothing belonged to my sister and I, not even our lives.
If anyone knew how to work a crowd, it was me.
Especially with what I have on the line.
So much rides on my ability to pull this off. My family is depending on me to work a miracle.
Noah moves, adjusting his cufflinks.
Though he’s so burly and mountainous, every swivel and step he takes is graceful.
I can’t keep my eyes from wandering over him as he dresses in the middle of his dim bedroom. The room is large but warm. A king size bed rests in the middle, the sheets snow white and glowing. The drapes are closed, but the walls are dotted with scones made to look like candlelight.
Even though everything is different, it all takes me back in time. I can still remember so clearly that last night that we spent with one another, the night where I gave myself fully to him. No other man after him had ever compared.
I’d been warned so much that the first time would be special, but not wonderful. It’d be painful, my friends said. It’d be awkward.
It turned out to be none of those things.
Being with Jonah was the single most beautiful moment of my life. There was nothing more magical and sweet than to be intertwined so completely with the man to whom I’d willingly, gladly, deeply offered my heart.
But he hadn’t wanted it. Not truly.
That rejection had haunted me for years afterwards.
Noah could never know the extent to which he’d broken me.
From within a drawer he snags his leather covered checkbook, scribbling out a check for me and passing it over.
“This is too much.” I frown, inspecting the check. Twenty five thousand was carefully printed. Even his handwriting was flawless, “You already gave me ten grand. This is supposed to just be the remaining fifteen.”
He watches me, veiled surprise in his eyes. He’d expected me to just take the amount without protest. Even I had some dignity, though.
“Think of it as a bonus, or incentive. If you will. For a good job tonight impressing these vultures.”
I tip my head back, meeting his grim grin.
“Don’t worry.” I assure him, carefully tucking the check into my cleavage where I would know it was safe. Claire needed that money. I had to get her out of trouble, “I think you’ll come to find I’m a splendid actress.”
His grin fades slightly, his eyes darkening. Something about what I’ve said has changed the mood in the room. Though it was terse before with waiting, now it was heavy.
“Noah?” I say slowly, taking a hesitant step towards him. But he brushes past me, ignoring my whisper of his name.
“It’s time.” He announces instead, giving a faint wave to Carl who is now slipping out the back door. I understood the reason for hiding the notary’s presence. No doubt some of the more eagle eyed guests would be searching for something off and odd about us. Carl being here would be just the type of thing they’d look for.
Taking one more second to sweep his hands down the front of his shirt and check the buttons, Noah inhales a deep breath, sets his shoulders back, plasters a welcoming grin on his face, and pulls open the heavy door before the first guest can ring the doorbell.
~~
“So, how did you two meet?” A man asks, sipping at the overfilled glass of red wine in his clammy palm.
Each time he switches the glass between his hands, he leaves a streak of condensation behind. The way his eyes skim over my dress reminds me of Doyle Sheek and the smoky, dangerous bar. I take another sip of the pink bubbly wine in my hand, letting it soak sweetly over my tongue.
“Oh, we met a long time ago, actually.” I gush, batting my eyes up towards a visibly uncomfortable Noah. While he’d been so worried about how I would handle this production of our relationship, it was him who was struggling the most, “We were young, I was a teenager. But it was love right away. We were inseparable back then.”
That much was true, so the story spilled easily so far.
Noah clears his throat, nodding along with the lovely tale I wove, like he didn’t trust himself to speak with me. He’d been acting so strange ever since the party began. Perhaps he wasn’t good under pressure, though you’d expect such a famed and lucrative lawyer to be cool as a cucumber.
“Then of course we both went to college, lost touch, and only reunited recently. The sparks were still there, we decided to get married the first night we met again.”
I blush, though it’s only the heat of the alcohol in my belly, giggling once more in a way that would make any love struck new bride exceedingly proud.
The man nods, giving a little wistful sigh, “I know the feeling. The first time I met my Abigail, I knew she was the one.”
“Oh, she sounds delightful.” I grin, though Noah’s face contorts just slightly.
“Ah. We’re getting divorced.” The man, whose name I’d already forgotten, stares glumly down at his wine before tilting his head back to finish the entire glass and glance around for a refill.
“Be careful who you wish good tidings to.” Noah whispers in my ear, the heat of his breath making a shiver roll up my spine, “Half of them don’t deserve it, the other half will use it against you.”
I give a faint nod, whispering a gentle goodbye to the man as Noah whisks me away to another small group of people gathered near the appetizers.
Trays of fine cheeses, fresh fruit, and mini lobster quiches dotted the tables circling his living room. The dozens of potential clients, employees, and employers looked around, carefully judging both the interior of Noah’s home and myself. I cling to Noah’s arm, letting my cheek rest on his shoulder. He’s rigid under my touch, as if he’s resisting pulling away from me.
I’m sure the people can see it, the faint displeasure on Noah’s face and his discomfort. If something isn’t done soon, none of them would be convinced of our undying affections. I wouldn’t get the money I need, and Noah’s reputation would still be in shambles.
I draw a soft breath and take another sip of the wine.
It’s only then that I realize I hadn’t craved a cigarette all day. For a second, I revel in the pride of that accomplishment, but then it was back to business.
“Oh, darling.” I say suddenly, lifting the heels of my stilettos up off the ground as I lean to wrap a warm arm around Noah’s neck. His entire body is rigid beneath my touch, his dark eyes going slightly wide, “You have… you have a bit of salmon puff. Right here.” I giggle again, letting my thumb brush ever so delicately over his lips - despite the fact that Noah hadn’t so much as touched a salmon puff. I let my hand slide over his cheek, cupping the back of his neck as I draw him down towards me, seeking his warm mouth.
His lips melt against mine without resistance, the sweetness of the wine he’d been drinking dancing along his upper lip. Tenderly, the tip of my tongue traces the velvety smoothness of his mouth, his arms abruptly wrapping around my waist. He draws me up closer against his hard chest, his fingernails digging into my hip with a fierceness that pulses through my throat.
With an ease I didn’t expect, his restraint vanishes, his lips crushing my own, my hands tangling into his hair.
Then, just as quickly as the kiss had begun, he broke away and let me slip back onto the ground, one hand pressed to my chest.
Around us, the guests stared, half in shock of the unexpected passion displayed by my stoic fiancé and half disturbed by our rudeness.
Either way, it was not something that any of them would forget.
I’d like to see them argue the legitimacy of our union now.
Feeling the warmth of his eyes still on me, I turn quickly back towards him, expecting to bask in affection - whether real or false.
Instead, his eyes have turned to black rocks, like when lava has gone cold and still. That is how he appraises me, without feeling, without heat.
“I’m sorry.” I say gently, and I mean it, “I don’t know… I don’t know what came over me.” I add with a furtively coy glance around at the watching party guests.
“Young love...” A nearby woman groans, smashing another bite of quiche between her bitter lips, “How sweet.”
~~
“Do you want me to call you a cab?” Noah asks quietly as we sit across from one another at the table we’d signed our marriage license at. Though that had been only hours ago, it felt like days.
Outside the tall windows of Noah’s home, the moon has risen high in the cloudy sky. The soft yellow rays make the fireflies dancing in his backyard look like golden flecks in the darkness. Noah sags slightly in his chair, exhausted but still handsome. He rubs his hands over his face, hiding a yawn that finds its way into my own lungs.
The party had dragged on and on as Noah and I were pelted with intense questions that would have made a professional interrogator blush. Over and over we were asked to repeat the story of how we met while the guests paid close attention and waited to spring on any inconsistencies. Unluckily for them, I was not one to make a silly mistake like that. My story was complete and perfectly spun each and every time until they got bored with the questioning and became more interested in the abundance of wine.
I’d had perhaps too much wine as well.
My eyes were hazy and my eyelids heavy, a sleepy sigh breezing between my lips.
“No.” I shrug, startling even myself from the simple word.
Claire was going to be worried when I didn’t come home. I was going to get an earful about tomorrow. But I didn’t want to go home tonight. It was so late and I was so tired and Noah was so… here.
Noah simply nods, his eyes locking on me. I don’t miss the suspicion in their murky depths. He has questions, but he doesn’t ask. He’d always been good at biting his tongue. Too good, if you ask me.
I wasn’t sure if it was my alcohol filled belly or the lingering taste of Noah on my lips from our earlier kiss, but I just wasn’t ready to see him off yet.
“There are plenty of bedrooms here, you can take any one.” He shrugs, sitting back in his chair as though he were trying to put distance between us, “The sheets are fresh and there are some towels in the bathroom if you’d like to take a bath.”
A bath, really, Noah? Who takes baths anymore?
But it wasn’t a shower or a bath or fresh sheets that I was interested in right now.
It wasn’t any of that at all. There was a different need inside me. One ignited by a kiss that made my blood turn to fire, my lungs feel tight.
Slowly, I climb to my feet, palms heavy on the table as I push myself upwards. Noah appraises me stiffly, frozen in his chair as he watches me step carefully around the wide table towards him. I’d long discarded my heels in the corner of the room, under the stool where Irvine now pretends to sleep though he watches us with one cracked eyelid. The cat had made himself scarce during the party, choosing instead to lay on Noah’s bed and dream away the noisy guests. I think both Noah and I were jealous of his easy napping.
“Actually…” I begin, mulling my words as I stand in front of him. Hesitantly, I reach out one hand and cup his face.
While he lets my touch linger on his cheek for a second, he turns away, breaking our contact. His movement stings, but doesn’t make me falter.
Even if our marriage means nothing, even if our relationship isn’t real, I want to feel Noah’s flesh on my own one more time. I want to wake with the heat of his body beside me, I want to smell the musk of his cologne on the pillow, I want to be wrapped in blue sheets and slip my fingers down his body.
But his sheets are white now, and his body isn’t mine.
“There’s one room that I had in mind-”
“Ari…” He interrupts quickly, lurching up to his feet. He glares down at me, and though his body dwarfs my own, I’m not afraid. There was nothing Noah could do that would make me fear him. He’d already ruthlessly shattered my heart beneath his heavy heel, there was no further pain he could inflict upon me.
I close my eyes, listening to the sigh of my name against his tongue.
“You bought me.” I say finally, reopening my eyes to gaze back up at him. He still watches me, glower on his handsome face, “Won’t you have me?”
He doesn’t answer, his hands balling into fists.
His eyes wander once, greedily, down the slope of my breast and to where I know the dress clings to me in all the right places. But I want him to do more than just look.
I want his rough fingertips to graze my lips, I want his hands to tangle in my hair, I want him to arch my body against his own one more time.
Closing the distance between us, I step forward, though before I can twine my arms around his neck he turns and walks away towards his bedroom. Irvine lifts his head, curiously observing us.
“Pick a room and get some rest, Ariana.” He mutters, standing in the shadowy hall of his bedroom, “You’ve had too much to drink.”
The door slams shut behind him, click of his lock resounding.
But was that to keep me out or to keep him inside?