Marry Me Page 8

  Giselle: What the fuck?

  Anders: *WEB ADDRESS*

  Giselle: Spotted eating a snow cone NEXT TO baby flamingos.

  Giselle: Nice try, Anders.

  Anders: It wasn’t my fault, I swear. I saw the article headline and immediately sent it over to you. I was outraged on your behalf. So I skimmed a few words in the process—no harm, no foul, right?

  Giselle: Whatever you say.

  Giselle: Do you realize how petty this makes you look? You’re stooping so low as sending me articles and misconstruing facts. Weren’t we just talking about how much I LOATHE those people? I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them. Anyone can post anything on the internet.

  Anders: Next time I’ll read further before I send you something.

  Giselle: Or you could just accept the fact that I’m getting married and not send me another bogus article.

  Anders: How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not giving up without a fight. You and I both know you will end up with me.

  * * *

  Anders: *flamingo emoji* *flamingo emoji* *flamingo emoji*

  Anders: Look!

  Anders: Giselle!

  Anders: Did you see???

  Anders: *flamingo emoji* *flamingo emoji* *flamingo emoji*

  Anders: They’re so cute and pink.

  Anders: I’ll send them to you all day until you reply to me.

  Anders: *flamingo emoji* *flamingo emoji* *flamingo emoji*

  Giselle: What are you doing, Anders?

  Anders: There you are. I knew you couldn’t resist me.

  Anders: It just popped up on my phone and I had to share it with you. Have you seen it?

  Giselle: No, I hadn’t seen it yet. Thank you for sharing it with me.

  Anders: Geez, I thought you would be a little more excited than that.

  Giselle: OMG!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING THAT WITH ME!!! BEST DAY EVER!!!

  Giselle: Is that better?

  Anders: Are you jumping up and down? Dancing around your room?

  Giselle: Sure.

  Anders: Can I see? Send me a video. What are you wearing? Are you wearing a bra?

  Giselle: Pervert.

  Giselle: How would you feel if I was engaged to you and Wren was saying those kinds of things to me?

  Anders: You wouldn’t be talking to Wren if you were engaged to me.

  Giselle: Yeah? How do you figure?

  Anders: Because if you were with me, you wouldn’t feel the need to talk to another man. You would be getting everything you need from me.

  Anders: *flamingo emoji* + *heart emoji* + *fox emoji*

  Giselle: Okay, what’s that about?

  Anders: That’s you and me.

  Anders: Get it? Because you’re cute and colorful like a flamingo, and let’s face it, I’m a fox. Quite the catch.

  Giselle: You’re ridiculous and so corny.

  Anders: That’s me babe. I give zero fox. And hey, you don’t give a flock. We’re like two peas in a pod.

  Giselle: Stop texting me.

  Anders: I could say the same about you. *winking emoji*

  Giselle: You texted me first.

  Anders: But you replied back.

  Giselle: You’re impossible, you know that?

  Anders: And yet you keep texting me…

  Giselle: Just stop sending me messages. You’re making things really difficult for me.

  Anders: Can’t do that, babe. I want you to be so uncomfortable with the idea of marrying Wren that you realize the mistake you’re making, because you don’t belong with him. You belong with me, and we both know that.

  Anders: Giselle?

  Anders: Did you really leave this time?

  Anders: You can only hold out for so long. I know you’ll come back to me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Anders

  Is it stalkerish to have Google alerts set up on the woman you love even if she isn’t yours? It might be, but that doesn’t change the fact that I set them up when Giselle went on her trip. I wanted to stay up to date on everything she was doing, especially since she was radio silent as far as I was concerned. Normally the alerts coincide with her video uploads to ViewTube, but I pause when I see this one is an article that was just posted on QuickFeed.

  Without skimming the email, I click the link and immediately regret it when the words fill my phone screen.

  Match Made In Internet Heaven

  Sasha Nichols

  QuickFeed Staff

  Hollywood heartthrob, Wren Danzig, and popular beauty vlogger, Giselle Outlaw, are getting hitched. The couple met only months ago while vacationing in Europe, and their solo travels turned into a joint expedition at some point along the way. It seems this whirlwind romance is ending at the chapel, and we are here for it.

  A few photos were leaked this morning from their engagement party last night at a very popular Portland restaurant. Word on the street is the owner is a good family friend. Judging by the pictures of him, this girl wouldn’t mind getting a little friendly with Anders McKay. Hey Anders, if you’re single email me! Check out the party pictures for yourself down below.

  Is it too soon to start hoping for a baby Danzig from this gorgeous couple? We have reached out to both of their teams for a confirmation, but at the time of publication of this article, we have not received a reply back.

  What are your thoughts on the celebrity couple? Do you think they’re a match made in internet heaven or just moments from imploding? Sound off with your opinions in the comments below.

  I scroll down, and I can only hope Giselle doesn’t see any of this. The words ‘fake,’ ‘gold digger,’ and ‘publicity stunt’ pop up too many times to count, and there doesn’t seem to be a single positive one in the bunch. She’s had a semi-public life with her videos and social media accounts, but this? This is a whole new beast, and my only hope is it won’t tear apart the person she’s become. When I first met her, she was unsure of herself and the world around her, and I don’t want to see her fall back into the shell she has so beautifully broken out of. If I need to be by her side to make sure this doesn’t affect her, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  What I did last night might have pissed Giselle off, but I hope she at least realizes I’m not going anywhere. My feelings are real, and I won’t go down without a fight if I have even the slightest chance of winning her over. The part that kills me the most is she didn’t even give us a chance. Instead of trying to figure out where things could go with us, she ran away scared in the middle of the night while I was sleeping.

  My front door slams closed, and not two seconds later Marek is strolling into my living room. I can’t tell if he’s pissed or just determined. I toss my phone onto the couch beside me and try to hold back my laughter as his face reddens and he paces the small area in front of my coffee table. Leaning back against the cushions, I cross my legs at the ankles and rest both hands behind my head, just waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Whatever he has to say, it’s got to be good.

  With a deep breath, he stops and faces me. Both hands are on his hips, and he’s standing in a Superman pose. Staring me down, he asks, “Is there something going on between you and Giselle?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised he’s asking that, although I wouldn’t think he would come up with that just based on me singing a song at the engagement party last night…would he?

  “Good morning to you too, Marek. How are you this morning?”

  Marek releases his hips and clenches his fists at his side. I know I’m pissing him off, and he’s got that I want to punch you face going on when he says, “Stop messing around. Just answer the damn question.”

  His face is bright red, and I’m suddenly aware of his sweatpants and damp t-shirt. The ends of his hairs have droplets of sweat on them as he pushes the strands out of his eyes. Did he seriously run over here? That’s at least five miles, if not more.

  I straighten up a little bit and lean forward on the couch. “Why would you
ask that?”

  “I just got off the phone with my mom. She’s freaking out and hysterical saying Wren is leaving Giselle and it’s all your fault. Normally I would say she’s acting crazy, but after last night…So, I’m going to ask you again: is there something going on with you and my baby sister?”

  I could lie and tell him there isn’t, because technically that’s the truth. Giselle is getting married to another dude, and other than our kiss yesterday and our night together before she left for Paris, there’s nothing between us—well, except for the fact that I don’t want her marrying anyone else besides me.

  “Giselle is getting married.”

  “Yeah, we were all at her engagement party last night. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  Marek might punch me in the face, but I have to finally get the words out there and say them. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder what if, and last night Tara convinced me I need to just suck shit up and say what I really feel. “Your sister is getting married, but if I have anything to do with it, she won’t be marrying Wren Danzig. She’ll be marrying me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I might as well lay it all on the line since I’ve already started. “The gist of it is, I’ve been in love with your sister since I was nineteen years old.”

  I’m sure there are other ways I could have said that, but it’s the truth. The summer I met Giselle for the first time, I fell in love with her, but I refused to let myself go there. Ever since, I’ve been the stupid idiot who assumed she would always be there when I got my head out of my ass and let myself finally go there. Now, though, she’s getting married to someone else, and suddenly I’m on a time crunch to prove to her that we belong together before she makes a mistake.

  My best friend starts up his pacing again, and I start to wonder if he’s going to wear a hole into my hardwood floors. It’s not that laminate crap, but the real deal. I shelled out the big bucks and had the wood flown in from Italy. In fact, at the time, Marek called me an idiot for spending so much money on something people would walk on, but I saw the way Giselle’s eyes lit up when she saw it for the first time.

  I didn’t realize until that day that this entire time, I’ve been building my house from the ground up with Giselle in mind to live here with me. I know she has her own condo in the city that she loves, but she won’t always want to live there. She definitely won’t want to have a family there, and my house in the suburbs near her brother is the kind of place she could call home.

  I hope.

  Marek finally stops pacing and flops down on the couch next to me, sweat-drenched body and all. He looks less like he wants to beat the shit out of me, more introspective than anything. “Why didn’t you say something before?” he asks with actual curiosity in his eyes.

  “How would that conversation have gone? Dude, I banged your sister and now I want to marry her. I would have gotten a fist straight to the face at the very least, or you would have cut my dick off. Personally, neither one sounded too appealing to me.”

  Fuck. That probably wasn’t the best way to word it.

  His face starts turning red again, and this time the clenched fists at his sides look like they’re itching to find a place to plant themselves, specifically my face. “Excuse me? You better tell me said banging happened after she was legal.”

  Shaking my head furiously, I put my hands up, preemptively blocking the impending beatdown, and spit out, “It only happened one time, and it was the night before she left for Paris. That’s why I came over to your house frantic the next morning. She left in the middle of the night and didn’t say a damn word about it to me.”

  This time he does hit me. My head bounces forward with the impact of his hand slapping me on the backside of my head. “First, gross. Second, you’re an idiot.”

  Normally I don’t let shit like that fly, but in this case, he’s right. I am an idiot, and I probably would have saved all of us a lot of trouble by just talking to him in the first place.

  I nod my head. “You’re right, I am an idiot. Everything has gotten so beyond fucked, and I don’t even know how to see straight anymore.”

  “Then why didn’t you go after her?”

  That’s something I’ve been trying to figure out for a very long time, and there’s only one answer I’ve been able to land on. “Like you said, I’m an idiot. I got so stuck in my own head thinking it would be a waste of time if I flew across the world for her and she didn’t want me back.”

  “Shit, so this is real then?”

  I guess he didn’t take me seriously when I said I was going to marry her, but I meant every word of it. I don’t want to lose her. “Yeah, it’s real.”

  “Son of a bitch. I mean, you’re already part of the family, but I guess you have to go and make it all official.”

  Now that I think about it, that does make things easier. Her parents already know and love me, and there wouldn’t be a weird getting-to-know-you phase with anybody.

  The more I think about it, the more I realize how right things would be between Giselle and me. I know I always fought my feelings for her, but we make sense as a couple. And it all comes down to what everyone has been telling me. We have history. That’s not something that Wren can compete with.

  Breaking the silence we’ve fallen into, Marek says, “Tinley bought Luna a miniature pig.”

  Did he just say…? I whip my head around and ask, “You want to repeat that one again?”

  “You know we started the potty word jar, right?”

  I nod because of course I know. Luna makes a huge deal about it any time someone even comes close to swearing. If someone actually does, a dollar goes in the jar, but if she swears, a dollar gets taken back out. She loves to mention how proud she is that she hasn’t said one bad word. Her parents, not so much.

  “What about it?” I ask.

  He cringes slightly and massages his temples with his finger and thumb. “We told Luna once it reached a certain amount, we would let her buy anything she wanted with it.”

  “Okay, so there was, what, twenty bucks in there?”

  “Try five hundred.”

  What the fuck?

  If they’re dropping a dollar in each time, that’s a whole lot of swearing going on in the Outlaw house. Doesn’t sound like Marek and Tinley are working too hard at cleaning up their vocabulary, and their daughter is reaping the benefits. “How the hell did that happen?”

  I’ll admit I’ve dropped a few bucks in there. But then again there’s also Tara, Tinley’s sister, and her old roommate, Dakota.

  “It took us a minute to get our shit together and stop cursing like sailors. Tinley is the worst at it. She gets so upset when she’s baking, and something doesn’t go right. It’s fucking hilarious.”

  I can actually picture that. Tinley is kind of a perfectionist when it comes to baking, especially now that she has turned it into a business. I made the mistake of going over there one day when she was baking a brand-new recipe. I swear I came close to getting a rolling pin to the head when I actually tried to eat one of the cupcakes. Apparently I should have known they weren’t actually for eating. She made them just for a photoshoot for her social media accounts. A fucking photoshoot for cupcakes. I don’t know how Marek doesn’t go insane in that house.

  “And Luna?”

  “The minute we told her she’d get to buy something with the money in the jar, she cleaned up her vocabulary and watched every damn word that came out of her mouth. It’s been a fucking shit show at our house lately.”

  I want to ask him why they kept cussing if the whole purpose was for their daughter to stop saying swear words. That little girl is a straight-up hustler, and she got exactly what she wanted. Tinley and Marek are so beyond screwed when she hits her teen years, that’s for damn sure.

  “Um, dude?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You just said like ten potty words in a row.”

  Marek tugs on the ends of his hair—hard—and hi
s face starts getting red as he gets all worked up again. “Tinley just spent five hundred dollars on a teeny tiny pig that’s going to blow up like a balloon and weigh a million pounds. She thought it was going to be cute and tiny forever. Now we have a fucking pig in our back yard, and I’ll be damned if I say another bad word in front of my hustling daughter and have to buy a damn boyfriend for the stinky pink thing.”

  I feel bad for my friend, but the whole situation is fucking ridiculous. I don’t even hold back my laughter as I fall back on the couch and let everything out. “Between all the women in your life, you’re screwed, man.”

  His shoulders fall and he finally allows himself to relax as he leans against the arm of the couch. “I just need my boy to grow up and start talking. Right now, the two of them team up against me, and I need some more testosterone running through that house.”

  Kids aren’t something I’ve ever thought about having myself, and I can’t imagine having them with anyone other than Giselle. Actually, the idea of a little one who has both Giselle’s and my DNA running through him or her sounds kind of perfect. Now I just need to get her to call off her wedding.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Giselle

  As Tinley brings her SUV to a stop outside the bridal shop, I can’t help it as my eyes start to get a little bit misty. I never allowed myself to believe this day would happen for me, and yet here we are. Most people say a bride is a princess on her wedding day, but I think this moment is the turning point—when you hunt through all the fluffy white dresses on the racks looking for the one. I would imagine the search could be just as hard as the journey to find the fiancé in the first place.

  My mom’s shrill voice pulls me from my thoughts when she says, “Come on ladies, we need to get a move on. There’s only so much daylight left and Giselle, if you need to get alterations, it’s going to be a serious rush job and will cost you a pretty penny. Good thing that fiancé of yours can afford it.”