Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton
Eleven
Nick
It takes a few days for Ollie and me to sync our schedules to be able to head out for a beer so I can fill him in on what’s going on. It’s not really a conversation I’m looking forward to. My best friend can be uptight and has a tendency to look at what can go wrong with a situation rather than what can go right.
Nevertheless, Mazzy texted me that she’d made arrangements for a minister to come to my home next Friday afternoon to perform the ceremony, so time is of the essence.
“Cheers,” Ollie and I say in unison, clink our drafts, and take a sip.
We’re at our favorite pub. In actuality, I can drink anywhere the beer is cold, but this is where Ollie first got back with his fiancée, so I think it holds special meaning to him or some bullshit like that.
Ollie catches me up on some of his and Jemma’s wedding plans, and we shoot the shit about how Boston’s baseball team is doing. Once there’s a lull in the conversation, I figure it’s go time.
“So I need a favor.”
“Sure, what’s up?” Ollie’s always so agreeable. Wait until he hears what he’s agreed to.
“Schwartz is still on my ass about the video. I guess a few more news outlets have picked it up.”
“Does the world have nothing better to do than worry about who’s sleeping with who?” He shakes his head then takes a sip of his beer.
“Apparently not. But an interesting scenario presented itself and I’m going to use it to my advantage to make my problem go away.”
“That’s great.”
“I’m going to marry Mazzy Pembrooke next Friday afternoon, and I need you and Jemma to stand up as witnesses for us.”
Beer spurts out of his mouth, all over the table and his T-shirt. “Shit, sorry.” He grabs a paper napkin from the table and wipes up his mess while I do the same with my napkin and T-shirt. “I thought I just heard you say you were marrying Mazzy next week.”
I nod. “I am.”
His mouth drops open and the napkin drops from his hand back onto the table. “What the fuck, man?”
“You can’t repeat this to anyone.”
He nods vigorously and motions for me to get on with how this developed.
“Her grandfather passed away a few months ago, and rather than leaving everything to her father as expected, he left everything to her. The only catch is that she has to be married for six months before she can collect.”
“What kind of rich people crazy shit is that?”
“Exactly. Par for the course in their circles though. They use money to manipulate situations to how they want them.”
“And you’re just going to go along with this?”
I swallow a mouthful of beer. “Why wouldn’t I? Mazzy’s a big deal in Boston and being paired with her would only paint me in a better light. How could the hospital not be pleased that I’m married to one of Boston’s biggest socialites and do-gooders? Perception is what matters here.”
He pushes a hand through his sandy-colored hair and blows out a long breath. “I guess you have a point. But what happens after the six months are up?”
I shrug. “We get divorced. Mission accomplished.”
He gives me a grave look. “What if you don’t want to get divorced?”
My eyes narrow. “Of course I’ll want to get divorced. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t kill her before then. I hate the woman.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “Maybe. But you didn’t always.”
“Yeah well, I liked ketchup on my pizza when I was six, but I don’t now. Things change.”
He puts up his hands. “Fair enough, but I remember how torn up you were after everything went down. What if you catch feelings for her again?”
“Catch feelings? What, are you picking lingo up from your twenty-something fiancée now?” I take a sip from my beer. “I’ve already been burnt once by her. I won’t let it happen again. I’m into some kinky shit, but I’m not a masochist.” I wink, playing it off.
He frowns. “I’m serious, Nick. This whole plan has the potential to be a complete shit show.”
I point at him. “There’s the negative Nancy I know and love. It also has the potential to solve all my problems so I can keep my job and continue to work at the hospital. I agree, being married to Mazzy will be hellish, but the real nightmare scenario would be getting blacklisted at every hospital on the eastern seaboard and having to use my family connections to get a job.”
He’s quiet because knows it’s true.
“Look, I need your support in this. Yeah, it’s not ideal, but it’ll get the job done.” I sip my beer while I wait for him to roll it over in his mind, understanding—from years of being his friend—that that’s what he needs to do.
“Yeah, okay. Let me know when and where and I’ll make sure we’re there.” He runs a palm over his face. “I can’t wait to explain this to Jemma.”
“You can’t tell her this is fake. You realize that, right?”
“I’m not gonna lie to my fiancée.”
“You have to. I kept your little secret, if you recall, when you were dating Jemma.”
His grip on his beer mug tightens.
“Besides, it’s not like they’re friends or anything. It doesn’t affect Jemma’s life.”
He groans. “I don’t like keeping things from her.”
“I don’t care. You owe me one.” I tip my beer to my lips then hold it out toward him.
With a sigh, he clinks his mug against mine and it’s as good as if we were ten-year-old girls making a pinkie promise—it’s a deal.
“I just hope this doesn’t get messy,” he says.
Always the pessimist. But all I see are blue skies ahead.