Hi. Marry Me Page 6

  “Okay, sure,” said Diana.

  The fact that it was her wedding night was just dawning on her. She wanted to laugh and cry. How different from any sort of expectation she might have dreamed of prior to this week! Tony made the call, quizzing Diana lightly about her preferred pizza toppings. Diana settled on the couch and drew her knees to her chest.

  The call made, Tony came and sat by her.

  Diana smiled at him tentatively.

  Tony grinned.

  “So,” he said. “Happy wedding day.”

  Diana burst out laughing at this.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just too weird.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” said Tony. “Trust me. Is there anything I can do to help make this...less weird?”

  Diana leaned back on the couch. “Expectations. Let’s manage them. And let’s talk about what we’re going to do next.”

  Tony leaned his head back as well. “Okay—expectations. First off….well. I don’t know if you’re thinking it, but I am.”

  Diana went very still. She thought she knew where he was going with this, but she wanted to hear him say it.

  “I want this to be a real marriage, Diana—not for show. In other words I want us to live together and be on each other’s team and all of that stuff. Be a family, someday. I know that we’re not there yet—obviously, we met yesterday—but that’s my goal. I want the real deal.”

  Diana nodded her head, slowly. “That makes sense. What we did today wasn’t just a business deal.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” He paused. “So. Not—not tonight—but I think we should, maybe, work towards being—intimate.”

  The look on his face was so uncomfortable that Diana had to stifle a laugh.

  “What?”

  “It’s just—the way you phrased that,” said Diana. “I mean, of course.”

  “Yeah, but, see, I also don’t want to just jump in bed with you tonight, you know? Even though that’s kind of the wedding night thing. I don’t want this to feel like a one-night stand, because it obviously isn’t one, and I also want us to get to know each other a bit first.”

  “That’s a relief to hear,” said Diana. “I mean—you’re nice to look at, and I don’t hate you, so, ordinarily, if we were going on a date…well…things might be different. But we just got married. That feels…like a lot.”

  “Because it was. Is.” Tony paused. “Maybe let’s pretend like we’re not.”

  “I thought the whole point—”

  “Was to be married. Yes, we’re married, but in terms of getting to know each other—”

  “Ah, yes, okay.” Diana grinned. “Nice to meet you. Keith.”

  “It’s ‘Tony’.”

  “Right, sorry.” Tony stood and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Where are you from, Diana? What do you do?”

  “Teacher, born and bred in New York. You?”

  “Programmer, same.”

  They were silent for a bit as the wine gurgled into the glasses. Tony wordlessly passed Diana a glass.

  Diana took a sip and then blurted out, “Am I going to have to change my last name?”

  Tony looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I feel like every other minute I realize something puzzling, something which doesn’t make sense—something which feels urgent, like I need to answer it that very minute.”

  “That makes complete sense,” said Tony. “And to answer your question,if you want to?”

  They stared at each other.

  Tony smiled. “If it makes you feel any better, I have no clue what I’m doing either. I’ve never been married before. I’ve barely had a long-term relationship. I know the science backs up what we’re doing, but we’re still an experiment. You know?”

  “I’m starting to get that,” said Diana.

  The buzzer buzzed. “Pizza,” said Tony briskly and he went downstairs to pay the man. He ran back up a minute later with a pepperoni pie balanced in one hand. Diana jumped up, went to the kitchen, and rummaged around. She found two plates and two napkins.

  “Thanks,” said Tony. He threw two slices on each plate and they went back to sit on the couch.

  “Let’s talk about our future house,” said Diana.

  “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  This threw Diana for a loop. “What do you mean? We could go—”

  “Anywhere,” said Tony. “We could move to Beirut, if you wanted.”

  “Beirut.”

  “First country I thought of.”

  “Ah.” Diana mulled this over. “Probably want to stay closer to my friends and my job than that.”

  “No family?” Tony folded a piece of pizza in half and took a big bite out of the tip.

  “Not really,” said Diana, shrugging. “My parents are out west, and we don’t talk much. Nothing the matter, I just became self-sufficient ages ago and they’re busy. No siblings, no extended family to speak of.”

  “Gotcha,” said Tony. “Friends?”

  “Several. New York-based,” said Diana. “I suppose you’ll have to meet them at some point. One of my friends is getting married next month. They just got engaged—super quick deal.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “No,” said Diana. She was used to people assuming that. “They’re just impetuous. But they’re totally right for each other, they’ve been together for years.”

  “Have you told any of your friends that you’re married yet?”

  The idea jarred Diana. “That’ll be an odd conversation. We just hung out last weekend—for Joy’s bachelorette—and I was definitely going on and on about the lack of single guys in New York.”

  “There are tons of single guys in New York.”

  “…That I liked.”

  “Okay, sure,” smirked Tony. Diana smacked him. “Anyway, it’ll be weird to hang out with them this weekend atJoy’s wedding dress fitting and tell them the…news.”

  “Let me know how that one goes,” said Tony. “I don’t particularly envy you there.”

  “Have you told anyone you’re married?”

  “Only the people who knew I was going to propose, anyway.”

  Diana stared at him. “Wait. People knew?”

  “Of course.”

  “How many people?”

  Tony counted on his fingers, and then shrugged. “My board of operators?”

  “Tony!”

  “I mean, the only one that really counts is my VP Danny. He’s my best friend. And a big fan of yours, by the way.”

  Diana chewed on some pizza. “When do I get to meet him?”

  “Anytime. I could call him over now, if you want.”

  “No, let’s just—keep it us. It’s our wedding night, it’d be weird to invite someone over.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Diana raised an eyebrow. “So how long did you know you were going to propose before you did it?”

  “Not long at all. A day, maybe. I mean, I knew going in that I was going to propose to whomever the app suggested.”

  “So romantic.”

  “As you’ve pointed out,” said Tony, “nothing about this feels romantic. Not yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “It’ll happen.”

  “What,” said Diana, “you’re planning on putting the moves on me at some point?”

  “I mean, as we get to know each other. As it feels right for us.”

  This was an entirely new way of thinking about it. She supposed it was the normal way relationships progressed, but the fact that they were married enabled Tony to discuss his plans with a transparency Diana found simultaneously intriguing and off-putting.

  “You seem to have it all planned out,” said Diana.

  “Hardly,” said Tony. “And—as you’ll realize, as we get to know each other—my plans almost never pan out the way I want them to.”

  They ate pizza in sil
ence for a few moments while Diana considered this.

  “So, you live here,” said Diana.

  Tony nodded.

  “And you’re a billionaire,” she said. “Why?”

  “Just because I’m a billionaire doesn’t mean I have to live like one,” he pointed out. “I like being economical where I can.”

  “I like that,” said Diana, after a moment.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said and smiled at him.

  The moment was nice. They both sat in it for a moment and then Tony looked at his watch. “Would you like to stay the night? It’s getting late. I’ll cede you the bed. It’s quite comfortable.”

  Diana considered this. “I suppose I might as well get used to being around you. Though I should warn you that I’m not like this,” she gestured at her face, “in the morning. I work hard for my beauty.”

  “Right, right, absolutely,” said Tony. He grinned. “There’s an en-suite in the bedroom. We don’t have to share a sink. Or a counter.”

  “What a relief,” Diana dead-panned. She paused at the doorway. “This is weird to you too, right?”

  “Weirder than weird. But I think it feels right, too. It’s…well, I think we’ll figure it out,” he said lightly.

  “Right,” said Diana, who was less sure. “Well. Good night, then, I suppose.” She looked over at her husband and wondered whether she should give him a hug or a kiss on the cheek. She wondered what married etiquette would dictate.

  Tony gave her a small wave and a wink, which she took as appropriate. She closed the door behind her and spent an hour wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

  *****

  Tony and Diana lived together, if that's what it could be called, for the rest of the week. Tony insisted on Diana taking the bed. She insisted on swapping for one night; and on that night she found that the couch in the living room was debatably as comfortable as the bed—possibly more so. After that she felt less terrible about their accommodations.

  They were temporary, anyway. Tony had made an appointment for them with a realtor for the following Saturday morning.

  It was to be a busy weekend, Diana reflected as she applied her makeup one morning.

  “Coffee?” her husband yelled at her from the dining room.

  “Please and thank you,” she yelled back. Diana resumed her application. That Friday evening they would be attending a LoveMatches gala together as a happily married couple. Tony had prepped her for the affair, stating over and over that there was no need for her to lie about their relationship, but that it would be extremely helpful if she presented things in a cheerful and optimistic light where possible. Diana had rolled her eyes. To Tony’s credit, it did seem that he was genuinely interested in having a real relationship as the basis of their marriage. But, it seemed he wasn't above spinning their marriage as an advertiser would.

  She’d readily agreed, however. Their new life, young as it was, wasn't terrible. It didn’t really feel like hers, yet, but she didn’t object to it. And Tony, even if he wasn’t the love of her life—at least, not yet—was a truly gentlemanly, funny guy, who was doing a lot to try to make her happy. She could give him a good review, as it were, and smile on the red carpet for an hour or two. She was quite looking forward to it, actually. She’d never been to such a classy, fancy event before.

  Tony knocked on the bathroom door and presented Diana with a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Oooh, thanks,” she said, sipping it. She looked Tony up and down. “Ready for work?”

  “No, actually,” he said. “Today’s a holiday for LoveMatches.”

  “How so?” Diana racked her brain. The day wasn’t a holiday, at least, as far as she was aware.

  Tony yawned. “Holiday in that I decided that it was,” he said. “CEO privileges. Anyway, most of us are going to be working over the weekend because of the gala and the fallout. I decided that my team could do with a random Thursday off.”

  “Wow. I wish school teachers could do that.”

  Tony leaned against the doorframe. “Well. Technically, you could. You could call in sick and we could play hooky together.”

  Diana laughed. “Might be possible in your world, Tony, but I like my job and I intend to keep it. I’ll see you after work, though.”

  “I’ll pick up Chinese. Dibs on picking the movie tonight, too.”

  Diana grinned and then paused. It was scary how quickly life with this man was becoming her new normal.

  Chapter 6

  She hadn’t anticipated that getting ready for what amounted to a large party would be even more scary.

  Tony had specified that the two of them could get ready at his place—still ‘his’, but Diana felt okay about that; as much as she'd begun to feel at home in the small apartment, she felt no sense of ownership whatsoever, even if she was legally entitled to it—and had named a time. Five o’clock, precisely forty minutes after she was free to leave work, technically. She’d have to rush to make it happen. And it was on a Friday, which meant that she would have to skip her tradition of the weekly download and drinks with her work friends.

  That was okay, she told herself sternly. Marriage. The word was practically synonymous with the word ‘compromise’. She could do this.

  More than that, she had to do this.

  Tony had requested that she show up with a fresh face and clean, wet hair. When she'd reviewed the timetable the night before, Diana had been dismayed to find that she would have no time at all to go home and wash her face or shower. This left her with precisely two options: shower at school or shower at Tony’s place. Thus far this was an option Diana had strategically avoided, being much more comfortable being naked and vulnerable in the security of her own home.

  It didn't seem like avoiding it would be an option this time. The night before, then, she'd shuttled out the remainder of her own personal toiletries from their accustomed places in the cupboard into a large cardboard box, prayed that none of them would break or spill in transit, and brought them to Tony’s place. When he'd come home and watched her stacking the things in their now-shared tiny bathroom, he had just one comment. “Now I see why we’re buying a larger home,” he'd said, loftily.

  Diana had felt like lashing out with a barbed comment, but she refrained. She simply agreed. “With three bathrooms. For each of us,” she'd said. “And even those must all have double sinks.”

  “Why do they need double sinks if we each have one,” he'd asked, smiling.

  “Oh, well, for all of my other husbands,” she said, quickly, raising an eyebrow.

  “Sure, whatever,” Tony said. He'd tossed the core of the apple he’d just finished into her garbage can. “I’ll let the realtor know.”

  Diana had smiled and turned back to finish unpacking.

  Now, having just arrived home the next day, and having—by her count—twenty-eight minutes to shower and get ready before the people who were paid to get her ready arrived, she turned on the shower and began exfoliating and primping and priming to within an inch of her life.

  Tony arrived home while she was in the shower. Diana started as he knocked on the bathroom door and opened it. “Hey, I’ll need to shower, too,” he said.

  “Give me five minutes,” Diana said, distantly, and he left. Diana finished up, clutched the towel to herself, and sighed. Marriage! She dressed quickly and left the bathroom.

  “They’ll be here in five,” Tony said, not looking up at her from the pile of mail he was going through. “The makeup artists and wardrobe personnel have a whole idea for us—matching or coordinating, whatever—so, we’ll probably just go with whatever they say, okay?”

  “As long as they don’t ask me to wear something I’m not comfortable with,” said Diana dubiously. “Shouldn’t we have had veto power or something? Gone over the looks and approved them?”

  “Maybe,” said Tony. “I’ve always just let them do whatever they want. They know better than I do wha
t looks good, and that’s what I’m paying them for, right?”

  “Well,” said Diana, “You’re married now. To an opinionated woman, might I add. So in the future, if we do this again—”

  “When we do this again,” said Tony, beginning to smile.

  “Fine. When we do this again, I’d very much prefer a quick sit-down, or even just a FaceTime, with these people,” she said, as haughtily as she could muster. “I have an image to maintain, you know.”

  “Of course you do,” said Tony. “And I just love how into this you’re getting. Now, I’ve got to shower. Let them in when they arrive, won’t you?”

  Diana was left in the middle of the small living room, wearing her robe, feeling thoroughly flummoxed about how different this new life was apparently going to be. The very fanciest occasion she'd gone to thus far—her prom—she'd felt was a step above the normal, an experience so removed from normal life that she hadn’t known what to do with herself. And even for that, she'd just gone to her normal hairdresser’s down the street and had them braid her hair. And then she and a few friends had rented a van to drive them around for the evening.

  She suspected that tonight’s endeavor would be more complicated than that.

  Entirely too soon the buzzer buzzed and a voice with a thick accent begged entry. Diana buzzed them up then opened the door, trying her best to seem calm, composed, and in control of the situation. The incredibly competent makeup artists soon made this illusion disappear, as well as any illusions Diana had of preserving her modesty. Within minutes the wardrobe representative had wheeled in a rack of gowns and taken off Diana’s robe, leaving her in just her frumpy underwear. The representative was jabbering about Diana’s long frame, pinching at her waist, and sort of having a conversation with Diana at the same time.

  “What colors do you typically wear, Mrs. Miran?”

  “Um,” said Diana helpfully. For the moment, she was caught up in the fact that someone had called her Mrs. Miran. She was wholly unused to this title. It didn't help that she had no idea what what her ‘colors’ were. She'd mentally divided up her closet—no her entire clothing supply—into ‘clean’ and ‘not clean’. Beyond that, anything else was just extra credit.