CannonIsMine95:
I think I’m going to get married
Instantly, a videocall starts ringing through and my eyes widen as I stumble off the bed. Why is she calling me when she’s at work?
CannonIsMine95:
Aren’t you in the classroom?
IceQween:
PICK UP RIGHT NOW, RYLEE!
I groan and slowly sink back onto the bed, counting to three before I accept the call. Instantly, I’m greeted by screaming kids in the background of a brightly painted classroom that I helped Moffie decorate when she first got the job at Liberty Elementary.
When her face comes into view, I know the frantic nature of it isn’t because of the little demons running wild around her. “What the hell do you mean you’re going to get married?” Her voice is a whispered hiss, her hazel eyes lined with blue liner and shadow, her favorite color, before scoping out the screen like she’s trying to figure something out. “And where are you? That looks like a ritzy place. Can you even afford that right now? You shot down all the places I sent you because you said it was out of your price range.”
The accusation in her tone makes the guilt feel ten times heavier in my chest. “I’m not at a hotel right now…”
Moffie stares at me, then her eyes snap at something off the screen. “Timmy, I swear if you don’t put down that glue you’ll be sitting in the corner during the next playtime. Do you understand me? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I try to get out of this conversation as fast as I can. “You should get back to—”
“Don’t chicken out,” she throws at me, eyes narrowing. Her pink painted lips are pinched as she scowls. “As soon as I read your message I had to make sure you weren’t stroking. Marriage, Rylee? What’s going on? Where are you right now?”
I try to explain, but the words get clogged in my throat. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and do my best to tell her what’s been happening. “You’re not going to be happy.”
When I open my eyes again, I see wariness enter her facial features, but she doesn’t say a word.
“For the record, this wasn’t my idea. It was proposed to me—” I wince at the word choice. It’s not how I thought I’d be proposed to, and part of my heart is crushed knowing I’d dreamt of this exact moment only to accept I’ll never get one like it again. Not a first, but not a last either. “The person in question thinks it’ll be a good idea for the both of us, and he’s offering me the help I need to make ends meet. It’s…”
I shrug, not knowing what to say other than, “It’s not ideal. It isn’t what I thought I’d get, but it’s something I’m seriously considering. This could help me in a lot of ways, even if the arrangement ends.”
It takes her a few long moments before she blinks. “Arrangement? This is what? An arranged marriage? Do you even know anything about this guy? Who is he? How’d you meet? Have you even—”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
She deadpans. “I’ve watched you do questionable things all our lives, Rylee. There’s not a lot I wouldn’t believe you’d get involved in. In fact, I don’t know why any of this surprises me.”
Ouch. “That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair is you clearly lying about where you’ve been for the past who knows how long. What’s unfair is that you obviously don’t trust me considering I’m only now just hearing about you getting married and acting like it’s a job opportunity.”
It isn’t often Moffie gets angry with me. We’ve had our disagreements, but it’s not anything we’ve ever gotten too heated over. Minus the time we didn’t talk for an entire day because we didn’t agree on who Hermione should have wound up with in Harry Potter. Since she read the books and I haven’t, she still feels Draco Malfoy is the better option.
“I see your point,” I finally reply, ignoring the ache in my chest. “But I didn’t keep anything from you on purpose. You know me, Moff. I wanted to figure things out on my own. And I’m telling you now, asking you for advice, because I trust you. I need help because I’m freaking out here.”
I can tell she wants to stay angry, but when her shoulders drop a fraction I know she’s relenting. Like Garrick, she doesn’t let herself get lost in the negative feelings. Curiosity gets the better of her. “Fine. Who is this guy?”
My lips press together in a firm line for a moment before I sigh. “It’s Garrick Matthews.”
She stares.
I nod slowly. “Sarina wanted me to do a piece on him and then all of a sudden he’s right there helping me at the stupid club when my car broke down, and now I’m at his house—”
“You’re at Garrick Matthews’ house?” Her voice is no more than a high-pitched squeal, and I’m thankful that none of her elementary students would know who that even is. Their mothers…sure.
I wince, rubbing my ear. “Yes.”
Her head shakes in disbelief, despite her insistence that I wouldn’t be able to surprise her anymore since I’ve obviously made plenty of questionable choices in the past. “Is this the same Garrick Matthews of Violet Wonders? Or like one of those Hollywood lookalikes who get paid because they resemble famous people?”
“It’s him, Moff. Actually him.”
She blinks a few times before looking away, her hands coming up to brush her frizzy curls away from her face. When she stares back at the screen, there’s wonder replacing any irritation she had over me and my predicament.
