Hitched(8)
* * *
Clint: Olivia says she needs to get laid to calm the wiper vibes. You’re up, husband. Get in there and do your duty.
* * *
Blake: This isn’t helping.
* * *
Clint: You’ve known me how many years, and you honestly expected help?
* * *
Blake: middle finger emoji
* * *
Clint: You and Hope have been at each other’s throats since you both came home from that Vegas trip, which is stupid, because you’re perfect for each other. The only problem I see is that you gave up on things too soon.
* * *
Blake: That’s a pretty fucking big problem.
* * *
Clint: And yet, you just married her again, genius. You want my advice, here you go: give it a shot. A real shot.
* * *
Blake: Even though we can’t stand each other half the time?
* * *
Clint: You remember when I destroyed your volcano science fair project in seventh grade?
* * *
Blake: Yeah, that sucked, but watching it float down the river was pretty funny.
* * *
Clint: EXACTLY. You don’t give two shits when people fuck up, unless it affects your business or unless it’s Hope. There’s something there that you need to work out. Work it out and get your marriage on the right track.
* * *
Blake: Our marriage is about protecting her alpaca. That’s the track. The only track.
* * *
Clint: Keep telling yourself that. And send pictures when you go see your wifey for conjugal visits. I miss that furball. And by furball, I mean Chewpaca. Not Hope. Obviously.
* * *
Blake: Nah, he hates pictures. Shit. I just wrote that. About an alpaca. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?
* * *
Clint: Unresolved issues, bro. Go work them out. I’m hitting the sack. I expect to hear you’re madly in love when I get up in the morning.
* * *
Blake: Not gonna happen.
* * *
Clint: chicken emoji
* * *
Blake: And yet somehow I still miss you. I must be out of my mind. Sweet dreams, asshole.
Four
Hope
* * *
I’m still jittery from Blake’s kiss a half hour later, when I pull up at Gram’s attorney’s office outside of Happy Cat.
I’m blaming it on the fish smell that we waded through to get out of the courthouse. Apparently someone installed an unauthorized microwave under their desk and tried to heat up cod for a mid-morning snack while someone else was burning popcorn in the breakroom and now Happy Cat’s courthouse qualifies to be on a food disaster show.
I’ve been cleared of all wrongdoing for the blown fuses, but my conscience is starting to poke me like Kyle used to in the car when Gram would take us to Atlanta for mandatory finishing school lessons.
Poke poke poke.
You made a good man marry you for an alpaca.
You could be preventing him from meeting the love of his life.
Just because you don’t have a desire to be trapped in a doomed marriage doesn’t mean he feels the same.
Poke poke poke.
I pull myself out of my ancient Ford pickup—it has fewer electronic systems than modern vehicles and breaks down less than a newer model would—and I head over to rap on the window of Blake’s truck.
He holds up a finger while his thumbs dance over his phone screen.
Can fingers be handsome?
Because my temporary husband has very handsome fingers.
Fingers that coaxed multiple O’s from me multiple times on our first wedding night, taking me to places I’d never been before. Or since.
I sigh.
We could’ve had such an amazing friends-with-benefits relationship if I hadn’t screwed it up by suggesting we hit the Little Chicken Chapel for a quickie wedding.
Further proof that marriage only ends in misery.
Ask my parents. My grandparents. My aunts and uncles and cousins.
If I’m related to them, they have awful marriages.
And if there’s one other thing I know about awful marriages, it’s that they make for miserable, scared children. Especially children who accidentally short out televisions and Wi-Fi routers and can’t stop no matter how angry their parents get or how hard they try.
That’s part of the reason I love animals so much.
Animals are easy, innocent, uncomplicated.
Not like humans, who are so often a stress-laced mystery to me…
Blake slides out of his truck in one smooth motion, phone going to his pocket, arm muscles flexing, his face shrouded in an enigmatic scowl.