17. Annie

ANNIE

June 2023 - Annie is 27, Sam is 28

As I leave Austen's, my shoulders relax for the first time all day. I made it through another shift without seeing Mitch. It's late, but I still walk the few blocks home.

I'll try to quit tomorrow. Working for Mitch is killing me, taking a bigger part of me more and more each day. But I haven't figured out how to quit so that he won't completely ruin my career.

I've thought about performing badly, making bad dishes so that he'll fire me. But I don't want to ruin my own reputation. Plus, I don't think I could ever send out a bad dish even if I wanted to get away from him.

Sweat drips down my back as I reach my apartment building.

I'm too tired to think about it now, I don't have to work tomorrow—today I guess—so I'll come up with a better game plan after I've slept. I promised Sam when he left three months ago that I'd try to quit while he was gone, and he'll be back any day now and I still work with and for Mitch. It's something I hate and not a conversation I'm ready to have with Sam about why I'm still working there, because I don't think he'll understand.

When I open the door to our apartment, the cool AC air hits me with sweet relief from the humid night air. I hear the hum of the TV and see the glow of the screen before I see Sam sitting on the couch.

"You're back!" I try to contain the excitement from my voice, but a little slips out. The feeling of relief I had after leaving work grows, but it burns within me and I feel better than I have in weeks. Sam is back.

"Mhm," he says with a grimace.

"What's wrong?" I hurry to him, kneeling in front of him and watch as his face twists in pain as he shifts into a better position. "What happened?"

"Fell," he breathes out, like the word itself pains him.

My stomach squirms. He's done thousands of tricks at this point, but he's always been safe. He's never gotten severely injured, not that I know about anyway. "What happened?"

"Trick went bad," Sam wheezes. "My back."

"We've got to get you to an urgent care," I say, trying to figure out how I'll get him off the couch, down the stairs and into his car and to the urgent care. I'm not super tiny, but he is a lot bigger than me, and he's got a lot more muscle mass and is at least six inches taller than me.

"No." It's the first time his words haven't sounded like he's in pain. "I can't go, they'll tell me I need surgery or some other procedure and I can't afford that. I don't have insurance."

"Don't you make like a million dollars a year?"

He laughs, then winces. "Not that much."

"Why don't you have insurance?" That's stupid. He should have insurance. Especially because of what he does on a day to day basis.

"Too expensive." He closes his eyes. "I spent all my savings. I can't afford surgery. I was just upstate, so the ride back wasn't terrible."

An incredibly ridiculous idea comes to me. "I've got great insurance," I blurt out. The idea is something I've only ever read about in romance novels, but it could work. Because yes, I do occasionally read a romance novel that isn't a classic.

His eyes open and he looks at me for a beat. I can see something brewing underneath the pain. "You didn't quit?"

"I've got great insurance," I repeat, ignoring his question. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like this is a bad idea, one I shouldn't get into, but the words come out anyway. "Let's get married. Then you can get whatever care you need, and if you need it, you can get surgery. You shouldn't just live with this pain in your back."

He looks at me as if I've lost my mind.

Which I probably have. Another thought hits me hard, one that I don't share with him. Maybe if I get married, Mitch will leave me alone, he'll stop holding my career over my head. I can't say that to Sam though, because then he'll want me to quit so that my ex stops bothering me—or at least the idea of him will stop bothering me—and Sam still won't be able to get the surgery or whatever care he'll need.

I meet his eyes again, determined to convince him that this plan is foolproof. "We could get married, we could go to the courthouse today and then go to the hospital right after and get you taken care of. My insurance will cover you as soon as we're legally married. It'll be perfect."

He blinks at me. "What?"

"We'll just tell anyone who asks that while you were on your trip we both realized that we should be together, that we've loved each other for so long that it was dumb to not be together any longer." It's not exactly a lie I realize as the words come out. I love Sam. I am in love with him. The realization nearly takes my breath away. I don't know how it happened or what I'm going to do about my feelings, but I love him. I fell in love with my best friend. He's the one I want to call when I have a bad day or even a good day. I look forward to seeing him, and he's the only man I truly feel comfortable around besides my brother—but he doesn't really count, because I'm related to him.

I'm still opposed to the idea of a real marriage and everything that comes with it, especially after what happened with Mitch. But marrying him as his friend so that he can get taken care of and not be in pain anymore? That I can do. I'll worry about my feelings another time. I push them away and watch as he takes my proposal in.

"Why would you do that?" he asks, his voice strangled. "You know how I feel about you."

It's my turn to blink at him. I will myself not to blush. Not with my newfound realization that we feel the same way. But now is not the time for feelings, we need to be practical about this.

"I'm never going to marry anyone else, Sam. And you can't seem to date a woman long enough to get to the point where you want to propose. I've got great insurance. I can help you. You've done so much for me over the years, let me do this for you."

This is logical. And completely delusional, but I won't admit that. I shouldn't marry my best friend—who I also happen to be in love with—simply so he can use my insurance.

But the fact that it could also get Mitch off my back is a huge motivator. And, I'll be married to Sam.

He tries to move, then groans in pain. "I'll get you some ice." I hurry to the freezer and come back with a pack of frozen peas. "This is all we have."

"It'll work." He groans as he shifts and puts the peas between him and the couch. When his eyes meet mine again, time seems to freeze. Marrying Sam would change everything and both of us know that. But I'd still do it, do this for him. I'd do just about anything to take away the pain he's in. Including becoming his wife, even if I always promised myself I wouldn't be anyone's wife. I swallow thickly as I watch his eyes flicker to my lips for a heartbeat and then search my eyes again.

"Marry me," I say. "For the insurance."

But we both know it's not just for the insurance. I wonder who will be the first to break and tell the truth. My guess is Sam, because I don't plan to ever tell him the whole truth.

"Yes, I'll marry you, sunshine." His voice is low.

I try to focus on something else. "You must be in a lot of pain, can I get you anything that will help so you can get some sleep?"

His next look chills me to the bone. "I've been in worse pain, this is nothing. Get some sleep, sunshine. We're getting married today."

My heart squeezes in my chest with guilt but I nod and move away from him. "Just holler if you need anything."

He nods, but we both know he won't. Even though we're getting married some time today, he's not exactly happy about it. This isn't how he wanted this to happen, but he'll do it anyway. Even if it means one or both of us ending up with a broken heart.

It takes me another hour for my mind to stop whirling and to fall into a fitful sleep. When I wake up, I'm getting married.

Something I never planned on happening. Something I never expected.

I don't think I'll mind marrying Sam.It's the last thought I have before I fall asleep.

When I get up a few hours later, I shower and put on a simple yellow sundress and head out to the kitchen only to find Sam eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen island.

"I could have made you breakfast," I say as I pull out my frozen spinach and strawberries to put in my usual morning smoothie.

"It's okay," he answers, his voice soft and he won't look at me. "You're already marrying me today, I can't exactly ask you to do anything else."

I swallow thickly. "It was my idea to get married, and I'm happy to do it. So don't feel like you can't ask me for help."

He nods and walks stiffly around the counter to put his bowl in the sink. "We don't have to get married, I'll set up a GoFundMe or something and I'm sure I can pay for any of the medical help I need if I do that."

"Sam." I walk up to him—but don't touch him—as I search his eyes. "I want to do this."

I wait for him to ask why, ready to tell him the truth. Because he deserves to know the truth, but I can't seem to bring myself to say the words. How does one tell the person they love that they love them without completely blurting it and sounding like a lunatic? But he doesn't ask, he simply looks down at me with a face that I can't read. I've never been able to not read him and know what he's thinking or feeling, but this morning I don't know and it makes me nervous.

"Only if you're sure, Annie," he finally says. "I'll only do this if you're sure you want to marry me. For insurance." He adds the last part like he knows the truth, like he knows how I really feel about him but that I'm too afraid to admit it.

Three little words are on the tip of my tongue, but instead I say, "I'm sure."

He nods once. "Give me about a half hour to get ready, then we'll go." He walks slowly out of the kitchen.

"Do you need help changing?" I ask, turning red down to my toes at the thought of having to help him change, of taking off his clothes.

He looks back at me, taking in my crimson skin and a smirk slides onto his face, which makes me go warm all over. "Nah, I'll be fine. Plus, like you said last night, I don't think this will be that type of marriage."

It's as if a bucket of ice water was dumped on me. Before I regain enough composure to reply, he turns and heads into his bedroom, closing the door with a gentle click.

I'm wiping down the kitchen counters when he returns. "Do you have your birth certificate?"

"I grabbed all my important documents. They're in the folder." I nod to the manila folder sitting on the edge of the counter.

He grabs the folder and adds his own documents to it, like we're already sharing space and becoming one or whatever it is married couples do. This is really about to happen.

We take the subway and Sam stands the entire ride because he says that sitting hurts too much. I can tell he's in pain as we climb the stairs of the courthouse, but when I ask him about it, he tells me he's fine.

"Ready?" he asks before we go in.

"Ready," I say, because what else am I supposed to say? I'm the one who suggested we do this in the first place. He slides my hand into his as we walk through the doors of the courthouse.

I look at him in surprise.

"They aren't going to believe us if we aren't even touching," he whispers as we follow the signs to where we need to go to get a marriage certificate. I am fairly certain that the people here don't care at all whether we're holding hands or not, but I don't let go. I ignore the pulse of electricity that hums through my body at our interconnected hands. This doesn't mean anything, I try to tell my body. This is a purely platonic marriage. I have to remember that.

"We're here to get a marriage license and get married today." Sam grins at the older woman behind the desk.

She doesn't even look up. "First door on your left, they'll get you all sorted."

He leads us into the next room where we're given all the paperwork we need to get our marriage license. They make copies of all our legal documents then lead us to a waiting area after giving us the document.

"There are no scheduled weddings today," a man in a gray suit informs us. "So I expect they'll get you in soon. Did you bring your own witnesses?"

Sam leans close to me and leaves a feather light touch with his lips against my cheek. It's a whisper of a kiss and I have to ignore the sudden urge to pull him in and kiss him for real. I can't let my actual feelings get involved in this marriage. That would be disastrous for both of us. "We didn't think that far ahead," he tells the man, his eyes never leaving me.

"That's fine. We have people who can assist. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Sam murmurs. He's looking at me like he's really in love with me and can show it for the first time ever. Like we're so in love that we had to come to the courthouse today because waiting any longer would have been unbearable.

The man returns to his desk and Sam straightens himself, as if the way he was just looking at me didn't even happen.

"You'd be good at fake dating," I whisper.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

"You're acting like you're in love with me," I say the words, but we both know that he isn't acting. He's never acted when it came to me, that's why we didn't talk much while I was with Mitch, it hurt too much. It's also why I have to put on the best performance of my life. Feelings complicate everything. My feelings will complicate everything.

"Who's to say that I'm not?" He sighs and looks down at the floor. Before I can respond, tell him that maybe this is a bad idea and I don't actually want to break his heart when all of this is over, the judge appears and invites us to follow him. There are two older women—probably in their eighties—who are going to be our witnesses. One of them smiles at us as we take our places. I glance away, shifting under their gazes.

His eyes capture mine and he gives me an encouraging smile. I can do this. I want to do this.

I barely focus on what the judge is saying throughout the ceremony. Sam watches me carefully the entire time, my hands in his.

"Do you Annie Mae Jones take Sam Holland to be your husband?" the judge asks me. This is it.

"Yes," I look at Sam, "I do."

Sam swallows as he watches me and the judge asks him if he'll take me to be his wife. "I do." His voice is low and gravely.

I lick my lips and he watches every movement. I never imagined any type of wedding for myself, but I think if I had imagined it, it would have been like this, no frills and fanfare. Just us.

"Congratulations," the judge says, breaking my thoughts. "Mary will help you finish up the paperwork. You may now kiss the bride to end the ceremony."