10 Our Wedding

Dedicated to RosieMay for approaching me for an interview. It was fun and thanks for thinking of me!

After reheating the pizza and changing into some pajama bottoms, Topher and I sit awkwardly on the sofa in his lounge to watch a movie. It doesn’t go unnoticed that we have a bit of space between us. I’m not sure how long we kissed the second time, but I know that I had pulled away and mumbled something about being hungry and watching a movie.

“What do you want to watch?”

Shrugging my shoulders and feeling a bit naked and out of place, I answer him, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Action, Comedy, Romance,” he starts to list off as he picks up the remote from the coffee table next to the pizza and switches through the channels.

“Comedy, I guess,” unsure of my decision, I give him a timid look.

He sighs as the channels continue to fly by. The titles sail by so fast that it can’t be easy for him to read. His eyes never stray, though. He just watches as pages of movies disappear to be replaced by new ones.

“We’ve pretty much seen all the comedies that are out right now. How about,” he trails off as he stares at the screen. A few seconds later, the guide stills as he settles on a horror flick, “this one.”

“Ugh, why?” Toph knows I hate scary movies.

I don’t understand the point in paying for something to scare the shit out of you. Don’t you think if you wanted something to scare you, you could come go to some old abandoned building or take a walk in the middle of thug territory? At least, that stuff is free.

I even went as far as to tell my agent that I won’t even act in one. Horror flick are just not my thing.

“Oh come on,” he mocks, but there’s something in his voice he’s holding back. “We never get to watch these. They’re my favorite!”

Rolling my eyes, I switch tactics, “Aren’t you supposed to impress me into staying married? Because doing my least favorite thing is absolutely not the way to go about it.”

“Who said I was trying to get you to stay married to me?”

“You can’t back out of a bet.”

“Shit.”

“Therefore,” I smile uncomfortably at my mini victory, “you have to do the stuff that I like.”

“Fine, then you pick,” my husband holds the remote out in front of me to take.

Sighing, I shake my head and let it fall into my hands, “I hate being uncomfortable with you. We can’t avoid this forever.”

“I told you how I feel,” without me needing to explain, he turns his body so that he’s facing me instead of the television. “You’re the one avoiding the subject.”

“How much of last night do you remember?” my eyes connect with his as I lift my head.

He rubs the back of his neck, but keeps his eyes on me, “I already told you.”

“Tell me again,” I urge as I face my body towards him.

“Day, I was holding you and we were kissing. That’s it,” but I hear the voice that Riel was talking about earlier.

I never noticed it before – why didn’t I hear it earlier? But that voice, it’s definitely there now. It’s just a tad lower than his conversational voice. I don’t think I would have caught it had I not been looking.

My eyes close on their own accord and I feel my head shake, “You’re lying.”

“I’m-”

I cut him off, opening my eyes again to stare straight ahead, avoiding my ‘best friend’ – the one that’s supposed to always be honest to me, “Don’t lie to me anymore. I want to know what you know and why you’re not telling me the truth.”

He sighs loudly, but I keep my gaze away from him, “I remember most of it.”

Standing, I start to pace behind the sofa. At this point it’s safer to remain silent. And, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite; that pizza will go uneaten.

I’m furious. He’s been lying all day, just like one of our best friends had said. I was foolish enough to believe him. I even defended him to Riel who tried to warn me.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” he stands in front of the sofa and watches, but wisely makes no move to stop me. “I knew you would be mad.”

“Why do you think I’m mad, Christopher?”

His blue eyes look shocked for a second, but shakes it off and continues, “Because I bet you into marrying me - your male best friend - while you were completely wasted.”

A laugh slips from my lips as I turn back to him and stop walking, “Not even close. That should be the reason. I should want to punch you in the mouth for getting me pissed and connecting yourself to me legally without consent, but I’m not.”

“You’re not?” he looks a little timid as I glare into his eyes.

Shaking my head, I continue to stride back and forth again, “No. I’m not gay. Nor have I ever been with a guy, but I’m not even mad about this whole marriage. That, we can fix.”

He winces a little, but slowly nods.

“I’m livid that you lied to me all day. You should have told me!” At the end of my statement, I’m shouting.

“You’re telling me that if you would have known this whole time,” the blonde arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his bare chest, “you wouldn’t have been mad? Or grossed out? Or reconsidering our friendship?”

“You’ll never know,” I mimic his posture and stare him down. “Of everything we’ve been through, you’ve never lied to me,” I pause for a second to think. “Or have you?”

His eyes widen and he hurries to my side of the couch. Stopping in front of me, he grabs each of my arms a little rough, “I’ve never lied to you before this.”

“How do I know?” I challenge.

What if this isn’t this first thing he’s lied about? Why does it hurt so bad that he lied to me? If he was someone else, would this have been such a big deal? Have I ever let a lie ruin a friendship before?

I don’t want this to be ruined.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and tries to pull me to him.

Shrugging him off, I walk to his room to grab my clothes from yesterday without a word.

He follows me, but stops in the doorway, “Please don’t leave.”

“I want to go home,” I tell him as I bend to pick up my shirt. “I don’t want to be around you right now.”

“Day, it’s already after one in the morning,” he says after looking at his watch. “You can have the bed. I’ll pull out the couch.”

“I’m not tired,” now I know I’m being stubborn, but I’m hurt. I’m more hurt than I should be.

I hear Topher sigh behind me, “Then we’ll watch a movie and I’ll tell you everything I remember.”

“How do I know you’ll tell me the truth?”

His hand finds my arm as I bend to collect my jeans. He pulls me up so that we’re both standing. Looking me straight in the eyes with the most vulnerable expression I’ve seen on him, he promises, “I swear on my father’s grave, I’ll tell you everything.”

His words instantly soften my rough exterior, “You don’t have to swear on him.”

“I swear that was the first time I ever lied to you. I’ll never do it again,” he takes the clothes from my hands and drops them on the floor again. “I was just nervous that you would run away and never look back.”

“Can we just watch the movie?” I ask as I turn my eyes toward the ground. I can’t find the strength to stay mad at him; I know if I stay here I’m going to crumble. “This is a lot to take in, in one day.”

He sighs and releases me as we walk back into the living room.

“You don’t want to know what I know?” he asks as he removes the cushions from his sofa.

Watching him work, I think about it for a second before questioning, “Is there more than what Riel told us?”

He shakes his head, pausing to look at me, as a smirk plays at his pink lips, “No, but she didn’t say anything about the actual wedding.”

“Oh no,” I take a few steps toward him then move the coffee table away from in front of the sofa. “Was it horrific?”

He shakes his head again as he pulls the last cushion off and tosses it to the side with the rest, “Best day of my life.”

Rolling my eyes, I help him pull the bed out, “Tell me about it.”

Walking to the hall linen closet, he chuckles at my sarcasm, “It really was awesome. You would have loved it. You did love it.”

“Please enlighten me,” I mock, watching him walk back toward me.

As he begins, Toph makes his bed, “As Riel said we caught one of those cab van things. All seven of us squeezed in with Ashley in the front. We sat in back with Sammi on my side and Riel next to you.”

“How did the four of us all fit into one seat?” I ask as I unfold the comforter he’s going to use for the night.

“Well,” his cheeks turn a little pink as he rubs the back of his neck, “you were practically sitting on my lap. I mean your ass was on the seat, but your legs and arms were all over me.” My best friend smiles sheepishly as he throws a few pillows onto the now made bed.

“Oh God,” I mutter as I climb onto the sleeper.

Moving in next to me, he pats my leg awkwardly, “It’s not entirely your fault. I picked you up to put you in the cab and only kind of set you down.”

“You’re killing me,” I admit as I make myself comfortable.

He shuffles around a bit as he maneuvers under the covers, “What do you want to watch as we talk?”

A sly smile appears on my lips as he leans over to grab the remote, “How about ‘Last One Down’?”

“Oh come on!” His eyes shoot over to me as he lets out an exaggerated sigh, “You know I don’t like watching my own movies.”

“I don’t like scary movies! You were going to make me watch one of those,” I point out.

He gives me a dry look, “That’s not the same and you know it.”

“I know no such thing,” I smile at him. “I’m not some big time actor that’s starred in every movie I’ve ever been in.”

Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head, “I’m not watching my own movie.”

“Please?” I give him the best puppy dog look I can muster. “It was my favorite movie before we became friends and I haven’t been able to watch it since.”

“That’s your favorite movie?” his face becomes questioning.

I nod without explaining.

My husband looks at me for a second accusingly, “You never told me that.”

“You never asked.”

“Yes, I did. You said your favorite movie was that action movie with Bruce Willis.”

“I didn’t want to inflate your head.”

“You’re serious?”

Chuckling, I nod my head, “It’s a little embarrassing to admit to your best friend that not only did he star in it, but your favorite movie is also a chick flick.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Well, I figure,” I admit with a shrug, “since you’re being honest with me, I can be honest with you. Plus, you’re my husband; you have to love me anyways, right?” I add the last bit to lighten the atmosphere a little.

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes but I can see the smile he’s trying to hide. “But know I am not happy about this.”

“Isn’t that what marriage is about?” I laugh as we both settle in.

The blonde reluctantly finds the movie and turns it on. After the first few minutes, he turns to me, “Did you want to hear more about our wedding?”

“Do I?”

“You loved it.”

“Go on, then.”

“Riel had it a little wrong; she was drunk after all. We did drive into Connecticut,” Topher explains as he leans back and folds his arms over his chest – the picture of relaxation. “But I looked up venues on my phone when we got in the van. I also ‘called in’ a favor to a friend to get a justice of the peace.” He puts finger quotes around ‘called in’.

“What do you mean called in a favor?”

“You know Adam Sprout?”

“Not personally,” I roll my eyes dryly.

Adam Sprout is an older actor like Brad Pitt. Everyone knows of Adam. He’s pretty much legendary. He was the Topher Ashton of his time and still acts in more mature films now. It shouldn’t surprise me that my husband knows him.

He smiles, but continues, “Well I met him at the recording studio a couple years ago because I had to do a voice-over for one of my films and he was in the same building to do some re-recording. Turns out his daughter Julie really wanted to meet me.”

“And?”

He shrugs, “I went to her 10th birthday party and hung out for a while. I wouldn’t take his money, so Adam said he owed me and gave me his number in case I needed anything.”

“And Adam Sprout just happened to know a gay justice of the peace?” I arch a brow at him. “And how did you make a call without Riel noticing?”

“I texted him,” Toph tells me as if it’s obvious. “And I happen to remember that he said he had a gay family member get married in Connecticut in an interview once and it was a long-shot.”

“You’re amazing,” I admit, shaking my head.

His smile becomes more genuine, “Thanks.”

“That wasn’t-” I cut myself off with a laugh, “never mind. So you used your fame to get us a place to get married.”

“I didn’t use my fame,” he gives me a look that dares me the negate him. “I just called in a favor.”

“Yea, because most people can text Adam Sprout for a favor.”

“Anyway,” he rolls his eyes and continues our story. “We arrived at this Inn around 8 a.m.”

Holding up my left hand, I signal him to stop speaking, “You texted Adam Sprout before 8 a.m. on a Saturday?”

I realize that I’ve said his name probably too many times, but I still could believe that THE Adam Sprout helped us get married.

“He has kids,” he reasons. “He has like 12 of them. I’m sure that one of them had already woken him up.”

“I thought he only had eight,” I question.

“Okay Day, so he has eight kids, but I’m sure one of them had him up before I did,” he answers before returning to what he was saying before. “The place was called The Inn at Longshore. It was really cool. Adam had the justice meet us there with the papers we needed; including a contract to keep it quiet.”

“How long did it take us to get there?”

How did he pull all of this off? It had to be on the other side of Connecticut for them to get all this orchestrated.

“About 40 minutes,” he tells me with complete nonchalance.

Shaking my head, I decided not to question it. Being famous has its perks, I suppose.

“We got there, she was ready with the paperwork, and we got married by the water.”

“Wasn’t it cold?”

He shrugs, “We had coats and we were pretty drunk. Believe me, you didn’t mind.”

“Did you walk down the aisle or did I?” It was suddenly important for me to know.

He laughs out right, “You wanted me to walk down to you. I found it ironic,” he explains lying down completely so that his head is on his pillow and he’s staring up at me. “You wanted me to propose, but you wanted the male’s ring. You wanted me to walk down to you, but you also want me to carry you through the threshold. I had to do everything that had to do with actual work, but you got all the perks.”

“How much of the night do you remember?” I ask as I lay down on my side facing him, propping my head up with my hand as my elbow rests on the bed.

“We got back here afterward and had a few shots,” he admits as he turns toward me. “I don’t remember much after that.”

“So you really don’t know why you were cuddled up to me this morning?”

“That one I can only guess,” he tells me.

“And?”

Topher scratches the back of his neck with the hand he’s not laying on as his cheeks color a little, “I wanted to be closer to you.”

“I guess it was pretty comfortable,” I state honestly. When his eyes light up, I clarify, “That doesn’t mean it going to happen again.”

His face drops slightly, but he shrugs and rolls back over to watch the movie, “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I have to go home,” lying down on my back; I stare at the television screen as his face pops up.

He makes a noise of disapproval before asking why.

“I have to book our tickets to England,” I remind him. “And I would like to take a shower in my own home and use my own toothbrush. I’m sure my mum has called a few time in the last couple days. I’ll have to call her back.”

“She can’t call your cell phone?”

“I didn’t give her the number,” I confess with a sheepish grin. “If she knew that number, I would never get any peace. I love my mum, but ever since I left England, it’s like she can’t go a full day without talking to me. She’s a little overprotective.”

Not that she doesn’t have a good reason.

“Maybe, I’ll give her my number when we get there,” he threatens. “I am your husband after all. She’ll be able to contact you that way, too.”

Turning my head toward him, I send him a warning look, “Don’t you dare.”

“You don’t want her to know about me?”

“She already knows you’re my best mate. I guess I’ll have to tell her we’re married,” that never really occurred to me until I said it out loud. “Shit, what time is it?”

He lifts his arm and squints at where his watch usually wraps around his wrist. He lowers it when he realizes he’s not wearing it. He props himself up on his elbows and looks at the entertainment center, “It is two-oh-seven.”

Thinking for a second, English time comes to me, “It’s just about seven in the morning there. Maybe, I should call now. She’s going to be so angry if she reads I got married in the gossip magazines before I tell her myself - even if they don’t know who I married. You think it will be in the gossip magazines?”

“It probably already is,” he smiles as he lies back. “The papers too.”

“Do you have an international calling plan on your home phone?”

“I don’t have a home phone,” he laughs as he gets out of the covers to reach his coffee table. “Just my cell, but you can use that. It has international on it.”

Sighing, I turn and hold my hand out for his phone, “I think I may be sick.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me, but if you could not puke on me – that would be best,” he chuckles as he places his phone in my hand.