AN URGENT WEDDING

CHAPTER FOUR

Noah

Lisa, knowing I was right behind her, still shuts the door after she gets in. She is sitting cross legged on the bed with her plate in front of her. I must say her yellow sundress is just perfect for her skin tone, her golden blonde hair and her chocolate brown eyes.

Sophie must have brought up the travel bag that is always in my car so I could afford to change out of my old clothes. Now, I settle on the cushion, keeping my distance because I think Lisa will want it that way. I should not be here for long though. I have to return to the city today.

Noah Cullen married? Hell no!

Noah Cullen married to Monalisa Jordan? How on earth was that even possible?

What in the world am I doing here?

Yes, I remember.

I was thinking I could just do it, one of the things I could just jump in and experience without risking anything. That is what this is. I don’t believe in marriages or weddings or any of those love things, but here I am somehow married. To a woman that is not my wife. And the great part? I could just walk away this minute and nobody will get hurt.

When Sophie begged me on the wedding eve to fill in for Lisa’s husband, I should have known she was setting me up.

I throw in a cherry in my mouth and crack my knuckles. Lisa is frowning at me as I look up. She holds my gaze a little longer then goes back to looking at her phone and picking at her food. She throws down her fork and stares at me pointedly.

“Why are you here, Noah?”

I shrug. “I want to have a quiet breakfast in the room.”

Without looking up, she uses her knife to cut tiny slices of her pie and she moves them all about the plate.

“Look, I don’t want to be here. Sophia roped me into this and I didn’t know my name would be on the register. I don’t know what happened,” I say, staring pointedly at her.

She puts a piece of pie in her mouth while meeting my gaze. Then she sets her plate on the nightstand. I still hold her gaze, waiting for her to say something.

“What do you want?” I ask in a calm tone, getting to my feet. “I don’t want to be here against your will. So what do you want?”

“I don’t know what you are asking me.”

I walk closer to the bed. “I can leave, Anastasia. That’s what I am saying.” Her eyes fall to the ground. I know she won’t want me to leave at least not yet. I Just want her to admit it or simply realize it.

“If you leave now, I will have lots of questions to answer,” she says, not looking at me.

“What are you implying?” I ask with a smirk.

Her shoulders sag and she looks up at me with a frown creasing her forehead. “Don’t get cocky with me now.”

I raise my hands in mock surrender as I move to the side of the room to lean on the wall. “Do you need me here or not, Monalisa?”

Her large eyes widen even more and I watch her visibly swallow before she reaches up and begins to repack her hair. “Yes,” she throws nonchalantly as she tends to her hair without a mirror.

“Yes, you need me or yes, you…”

“ I need you here!” she shouts, cutting me off. “Is that better? You wanted to hear it so badly. Does it make your ego feel better?”

Her eyes are clouded with moisture as she stares at me. Frustration, fatigue or one of the many feelings I do not understand tells on her face. She wipes her eyes as a tear almost slips out of her right eye. Then she gets to her feet and walks to the bathroom without another word to me.

In utter confusion, I stare at the bathroom door after she shuts it. I can’t figure out what I could have said to make her sad. I understand her being mad, but tears are a whole different thing. Sophia loved telling me that Lisa referred me to me as the jerk. Now if I made her cry without even trying to, I guess she is right.

For some minutes, I stare at the bathroom door waiting for her to come out. This is unfamiliar territory for me and I am lost at the right words to say. I carry her unfinished breakfast and mine out of the room. Sophia busts out of her room just as I open the door. She holds up a hand signaling me to wait. I walk to the edge of the stairs and wait till she comes to me.

“Emily was asking me questions,” she says in an undertone, looking around.

“She is suspicious?” I ask in a similar tone.

“I would say she’s curious and that is the same thing as being suspicious.”

I sigh. “Sophie, please help me get these plates to the kitchen. I need to hurry back to Lisa.”

“Are you for real?” she asks, but takes the plates from my hands.

“You are such a cutie pie, Sophie.” I laugh as I retreat to the room. She rolls her eyes and waves me off.

Even though I have never done it before, I knock before opening the door. I poke a head in before I step in. Lisa is sitting on the bed with an open book on her thighs. She does not look up when I sit beside her. She now has a black transparent jack over the gown she is putting on. The collar of the jacket is too broad and ugly. It looks odd on her. But the jacket is not an issue now.

“I am sorry, Monalisa,” I say, hoping she would look at me. “ I did not mean to be a jerk.”

She looks at me with a small smile. “I know that. It was not about you.”

“I still reserve my apology.”

She shakes her head at me then pulls her jacket around her small body. When Sophia offered information about her, she only talked about her job which is writing for a Magazine column. I did not know much about her apart from that and where she lives. I wonder what she knows about me.

“It’s just that my first wedding was yesterday and it was not to someone I chose, someone I love or someone. It was just to you.” The sadness in her voice intertwines with each word. I notice the way she says “You” like I am not someone. She is right. In this situation, I am no one. Just a guy.

“So do you have a plan because you showed up at my wedding and attempted saving me. We are stuck now so you should have a way out, yes?” she asks.

“Oh.” I bow my head. “Actually, this was Sophia’s idea. I didn’t think it through.”

“Great !” she exclaims, getting to her feet.

“I did not attempt to save you. I actually did. What else would you have done?”

She tilts her head as she stares at me.

“You were a bride abandoned at the altar. Did you have a plan?” I get to my feet and she walks in the other direction of the room. I wonder if she’s about to hide in the bathroom.

“You are effortlessly an insensitive person, are you not?” she asks, turning to face me.

“Why are you mad at me and you keep saying it’s not about me?”

“Because it’s not about you. I am here right now with you and we are pretending to be a couple. I got married yesterday, but we both know that I am not married.”

I walk towards where she is leaning on the white wall, arms folded. “The only plan is for you to accept this is what is happening right. We can pretend to be a couple and get a divorce after five months.”

“Divorce?” Her eyes widen.

I nod. “Annulment of our sham marriage. Do you have a better idea?”

“I have never been married and now I am about to be a divorcee,” she says quietly like she’s not talking to me. “How are you okay with all of these?”

“I have no interest in being married. If you don’t want a divorce we can keep being married on paper till you want to truly get married.” I take a step closer to her and she stares at me, unsure.

“Since we are pretending to be pretending, we could do six months of dating right now.”

“I am lost, Noah.”

“What is your favorite color?”

“Red?” She answers, eyeing me warily.

“Good. Mine is black.”

“Your favorite movie?” I ask.

She seems to get a hang of it. She moves to a sofa and seats, folding her legs. “I think I can flirt between favorite movies and books because it’s hard to stick to one great movie for a long time. It's foolish to have a favorite movie.” She pauses, now watching me with narrowed eyes. “Do you have a favorite movie?”

“I am not sure. But every Christmas I watch the “Home alone” series.”

“Nice.”

She is amused, I can tell from her puckered expression.

“That doesn’t suit you,” she says. That means she’s shocked and amused.

“Well, you don’t know me much,” I say.

“You don’t know me either. I write silly fictional stories on my blogs and in an entertainment magazine. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” I lie. “You talk about it like you don’t like the job.”

“I love writing but the job, not so much.” She heaves a sigh as she gives a slight shrug.

“I sell art. It’s almost like what you do but in my case, I don’t paint just romance, I paint everything. Love, pain, erotic stuff, abstract and whatever you can think of.”

“I have seen some,” she says. “You make pain look painful yet beautiful. Some falsehoods there.”

I sit on the bed. It’s the first time I am hearing a comment like that. “Why did you say that?”

“You paint a picture of me right now and make it beautiful, but there’s nothing beautiful about my life right now. Why would someone see a sad girl and say, ’this is amazing’.”

Words fail me at this point. I just turn my eyes away from her. Art is supposed to be beautiful. There is no way a true art is ever ugly but I have never thought I take away the truth in the subject’s feeling. I also don’t want to oppose her when she says her life is not beautiful. It’s really none of my business.

“What’s your favorite food?” she asks.

“I guess that is where I will say it’s foolish to have a favorite food.” I reply.

She scoffs. “I don’t think so. There should be one food that is the bomb for you.”

I look up, pretending to think then I shake my head. “There are so many foods that were the bomb for me. What is it for you?”

“I love chocolate cookies. That’s all.” She gives a little shrug.

Okay, I did expect the bomb food would be cookies. What an interesting person. I have never paid attention to her asides when I am pretending to dislike her as much as she dislikes me. I still wonder why she holds a grudge against me. I am really a good man. At least I am better than the man who promised to show up but abandoned her in front of everyone.

Monalisa walks to the balcony which is facing the lawn. From there, one can get a view of anyone on the driveway close to the front of the house.

I used to think she had remained the same straight little girl, but she has grown into a woman while I saw her every year and did not notice. From her back view, she looks to have the right curves even in her petite form. As she hugs her thin jacket around her, it accentuates her small waist. Christ, I love small women.

This proximity of staying in the same room is not good for me. It’s not good for us. I would have been disturbed by calls from the office since I have been here, but I took a break, leaving everything to Greg, my assistant. I am fortunate Greg is quite accountable.

I join her on the balcony. I put a hand on the railing, facing her. “Let’s continue our date questions,” I suggest. She simply nods without looking at me.