Who'd Have Thought Page 8

  “Want a drink?” Hayden could actually ask that and have more to offer than water from the tap. Because she’d been to the supermarket. Had she mentioned that? It had just been so exciting.

  “Sure.”

  “Beer? Juice? Bottle of water? Soft drink?” It was tempting to list the different types of soft drink, if only for the novelty of having a variety to offer, but that would border on weird.

  As if knowing what was happening, Luce finally grinned. “Do you have cola?”

  “Yup.” Hayden stood up. “Ice?”

  “Sure.”

  “Lemon?”

  “Why not?”

  Hayden took a second in the tiny kitchen to take a breath. By signing up for this, she’d agreed to lie. That was all part of it. Luce wouldn’t tell anyone. Hayden knew that. If she told Luce what was going on, they would keep that secret and probably actually help. But Sam had been clear: no one was to know. And really, if Luce knew, Hayden didn’t know if she could keep the charade going.

  Three ice cubes plonked into the glass, and she squared her shoulders. She could do this. It would all be worth it. Once she had the drinks ready, she sucked in a deep breath and carried the glasses out.

  “Thanks.” Luce took a sip, then held the glass against their knees. “So you, for real, are interested in her?”

  “Yup. Even going for a drink tonight.”

  And Hayden would pay. This might all be a part of Sam’s plan, and therefore included in costs she covered, but it was getting excessive. Hayden liked to look after herself, thank you very much. And, last month excluded, she generally managed. She’d budgeted her ass off for this month.

  “Right. Again, okay.” Luce took another sip, clearly trying to get their thoughts together. “Okay, fine. You like her. I don’t get it, since you really, really seemed not to like her before. But okay. Fine.”

  “Um, thanks.” Guilt twinged in Hayden’s stomach. And now Luce had to go and be their awesome self.

  “So, she good in bed?”

  As if she were fifteen, heat flooded Hayden’s cheeks. “Luce!”

  “Sorry, fine, okay. You’re taking it slow.” Luce looked wicked, and Hayden narrowed her eyes. “She a good kisser, then?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Why’re you so red? Not kissed her yet?”

  How was she going to handle this? How was she going to explain not having kissed or slept with someone who, in a week or two, Hayden was going to have to convince Luce she wanted to marry? Not that these things were a requirement. “Of course I have.”

  “So, why so red? Did you embarrass yourself?”

  “You’re seriously an ass.”

  “Yes, I am.” They leaned in closer to Hayden. “So?”

  Hayden pulled her leg up under herself on the sofa. “So what?”

  “Is she good in bed?”

  Hayden threw a cushion that hit the wall feet away from Luce.

  “That was pathetic. I’m so close you could touch me with your foot if you reached out.”

  Yup. An ass.

  ~ ~ ~

  Hayden chose the bar this time. She and Sam met at seven o’clock at the hospital, making sure that Sam waited inside for Hayden to walk through from the ER locker rooms to meet her. More visibility. More people to see them. Sam was dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt that, coupled with her red hair and pale complexion, made Hayden think of a country singer. It was weirdly endearing, although the serious look that was ever present on her face took away from that. They hovered awkwardly near each other, smiling and trying to make it look natural, and then turned to go, the cool air outside washing over them. It felt damp, as if it was about to rain. But the sky looked mostly cloudless, speckled with stars they could barely see, thanks to the city lights.

  “Good day?” Hayden asked as they walked toward the bar she had in mind. The wind was cold, and she hunched her shoulders against it.

  “Yes. Busy. I had three operations. My intern is…slow. But he’s learning.”

  That guy who had insisted Sam was the best there was. Which was true. But he’d seemed to mean his praise. Maybe Sam was a better teacher than Hayden had anticipated. Though he did always look terrified. Anyone on Sam’s service seemed to look like that.

  “How were your days off?” The last few times, Sam had seemed a bit more rehearsed in small talk. It was less stilted and random.

  “Fine. I spent most of them cleaning my apartment and talking to my cat. I hung out with one of my friends today. You know them, actually. Luce, a nurse in the ER.”

  “Luce?” Sam’s tone made it clear she had no idea who they were. “What does she look like?”

  “They are of Japanese descent, have dark hair, and have a bright orange stethoscope?” Hayden tried not to stare at Sam to see how receptive she was to the pronoun check. But it was important to her that someone she was about to spend a lot of time with wasn’t transphobic and gross.

  “The orange stethoscope is familiar, but I’m afraid I can’t really place her—them. I assume you did that so pointedly for a reason?”

  So much for subtle. “Uh, yeah, I did. Luce is non-binary and prefers gender-neutral pronouns. They and them.”

  Silence was her answer. They were almost at the bar, and Hayden finally gave in and turned her head. Sam was staring straight ahead, face impassive. There was the tiniest twitch of her brow, though, that made Hayden think she was digesting what had been said.

  “Non-binary?” Sam finally asked.

  “Yeah. It means you aren’t fully one of the binary genders, man or woman. You might be both, or neither, or it might shift around. In a nut shell.”

  “Oh.”

  Hayden gave in again and looked. Sam had the exact same expression, and she turned her head, catching Hayden’s eye as they walked.

  “I haven’t heard of that. Okay. So. I’ll see if I notice them tomorrow.”

  Well, that was good, she supposed. Not that respecting someone’s pronouns deserved praise, but it was nice that Sam had adapted, even if she hadn’t heard of people being non-binary before. It wasn’t often Hayden came across someone in the queer community who didn’t know something about gender identities, though. Maybe Sam wasn’t much involved in the community. She did say she wasn’t great with socializing.

  They were at the bar. Hayden stopped, and Sam copied her, looking at the door with trepidation on her face. No doorman waited to open it. Though, to be fair, they hadn’t seemed to go to any places that were like that since the first time. Most had been more low-key.

  This place was one frequented by college kids.

  The bar was almost entirely made of scratched, cheap timber, with a pool table and a foosball table squeezed into one end. It smelled like beer. It was where bad decisions went to be made. And the best part?

  Sam’s face when she walked in.

  Hayden almost laughed out loud as Sam looked around, muscle clenching in her jaw.

  Sam turned to her. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Hayden was still grinning. “I’ll order our drinks. Any requests?”

  “I think a red wine.”

  Hayden shook her head.

  “What?”

  “I wouldn’t drink the wine here.”

  “Oh.” Sam’s jaw was still tight, and Hayden was still grinning. This was far too much fun. “A beer?”

  “Coming right up.”

  The bar was mostly empty, and Hayden wove between tables with their beer bottles a few minutes later. She plunked them on the wood—the thunk satisfying and cheap—and sat down.

  “Good table choice.”

  “I know.”

  So she’d chosen it on purpose? Good to know she’d had the same thought as Hayden. “Near the foosball table is always the best choice.”

  “Near the—?” Sam glanced behind herself. “Oh. No. That wasn’t a factor. It was simply the logical choice.”

  Hayden took a sip of her beer, mulling it over. “How so?”

  “I
t’s the closest to the door, the bar, and the bathrooms.”

  Hayden turned in her chair, eyeing all the points in the room that Sam had mentioned. This table was almost equally as close to all three places.

  “Is that how you always choose?” Hayden asked.

  “If I can.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why?”

  Hayden shrugged, and behind her the door swung open, sending cool air rushing in and voices drifting over. Laughter. “I’ve just never considered those kinds of reasons when choosing a table. Hence, interesting.”

  “All right.”

  Silence drifted over the table. It often did. While the small talk was getting better, they were still finding common ground. Hayden watched Sam look around the bar, every minute twitch of the muscles in her face giving her expression away. It wasn’t that she didn’t have expressions, like Hayden had thought; it was that she was very good at schooling them. That, or hers were simply more muted. It was Hayden’s game, now, to try and guess how she was feeling about something. Sam watched the people who had come in take a seat at the table next to theirs, and something in her cheek flinched.

  Hayden failed to hide her smirk. “What?”

  Sam snapped her head back to look at Hayden. “It’s only—well, why would they sit so close?”

  There were five of them, all from the college, from the looks of it, and they were loudly chatting. One of the guys even had a cap on backward. Some of them were flipping their chairs around to straddle them, and there was a strong smell of body spray—“manly” smells from bottles boasting words like sword or rugged terrain or shark teeth or whatever marketers thought men would want to buy. How did they even gender a smell?

  “What do you mean?” Hayden asked.

  “The place is so empty, and yet they sat at the table that was right next to another that was occupied.”

  Hayden laughed. “I suppose that is annoying.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “I don’t really think about it.”

  “They’re in our space.”

  “Want to move?”

  “It’s fine.” Sam said it, but Hayden wasn’t sure she believed it. “I just don’t get why they’d sit there.”

  “We could glare at them until they leave?”

  Sam’s lips twitched. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “I could talk loudly about my ten cats and how they’re my only loved ones.”

  This time, Sam definitely smiled. “You only have one cat.”

  “Maybe I tricked you, and I’ll have to move in with all ten.”

  “Seriously?” And Sam’s face was so concerned that Hayden laughed loudly.

  “No. Just the one cantankerous cat for you to deal with.”

  “Hm.” And now Sam was cocking her head in that way that Hayden guessed meant she was trying to figure her out.

  “Yes?” Hayden took a sip of her beer, the bottle damp. “You obviously want to say something, so spit it out.”

  “I think we’ve had a couple of weeks. We can’t really delay making the decision any longer. I think it should be now.”

  And with those words, Hayden’s palms went clammy. Which was stupid. She’d not wavered, really, since she’d blown up at Sam and her tactless inability to mince her words. “I suppose we should.”

  They watched each other for a moment, Hayden’s heart thumping in her chest.

  “So—are we getting married?” Sam asked.

  “Will you tell me why?”

  “No.” Sam said it with a touch less patience this time. “I told you, I would when I was ready. We barely know each other.”

  To be fair, how could Hayden hold it against her? Hayden had barely scratched the surface as to why she hadn’t studied medicine. But that wasn’t any of Sam’s business. This was Hayden’s.

  “Fine.” Hayden picked at the label on her beer, the glue and wet paper sticking under her thumbnail. “Well, I’m in.”

  Sam gave a singular nod. “Me too. I think this has come together nicely.”

  Like they were talking about plans for a lunch, not for marriage. “So?” Hayden prodded.

  So? As in money? As in when would Hayden see it? That wasn’t exactly something she just wanted to burst out with, though.

  “If you give me your bank account details, I’ll transfer that money tonight as agreed. And I’ll give you the other half when we sign papers, which we should talk about when to do.”

  “And when I move in.” Oh, shit. It was happening.

  “Yes, that too.”

  “Okay.”

  And it got awkward again.

  Sam sighed. A real, honest sigh. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, and some of that straight posture fell away. She barely flinched as the table next to them gave a loud cheer about something. “I say we sign next week. We need to get a marriage license first. And we have to go together. I’m owed time off, so if you let me know what day is convenient for you, I can go then.”

  “I have next Monday off.” Shit. Marriage license. Oh, shit. Hayden’s heart was still thumping away.

  “Okay. I’ll apply online. It means less waiting time in the clerk’s office.”

  “Right.”

  Of course Sam had researched all this. She was serious about it. It was she, after all, who had wanted to do this for reasons unknown. It was she who had taken the time to search out someone who would be appropriate and who had set up meetings and done all the work toward this, unlike Hayden, who had just been scrolling the Internet because she was bored, saw a marriage offer, and thought, “Why not? I’m broke.”

  “Once we have the marriage license, we have to wait twenty-four hours.”

  “I start on night shift Tuesday. It’s why I have the Monday free. So we could, uh, get married before I start?”

  Sam pulled her phone out of her bag, flicking through what Hayden assumed was her planner.

  “I’m not free. But I think I can get someone to cover. I covered for Seymour a few weeks ago so he could get his divorce done.”

  “Seymour as in Seymour from Dermatology?”

  Sam didn’t even look up from her phone. “The very one.”

  “He is such an ass.”

  Now Sam looked up. Her eyes held a spark. “He really is.”

  “He told me once I’d be prettier if I smiled more.”

  Now Sam had that furrow between her brow. Her version of a scowl? “He said the same to me. And I heard him tell a receptionist she should dress in something ‘appealing’ if she wanted to get the right attention. He’s disgusting.”

  But Hayden was grinning. Nothing was more fun than word-bashing a misogynist with someone who felt the same way. “Did you hear what happened with his wife?”

  At that, Sam dropped her phone back in her bag. “No? I tend to be too busy to be distracted by gossip.”

  “Well, some of us like the distraction.” But she wasn’t really offended by Sam’s comment. Her tone hadn’t seemed to mean it as an insult. “Anyway, his wife works in one of the day clinics, and I heard she left him for his sister.”

  “No?” Was that a subtle note of glee in Sam’s voice?

  “Yup. Serves the sexist ass right.”

  “I know I shouldn’t find that funny…”

  “But it’s pretty hilarious.”

  “It really is.” Sam took a sip of her beer, but it didn’t smother the smile she still had on her face. It could almost be called wicked.

  “Anyway.” Hayden took in a deep breath. She could keep this conversation going. Totally. It wasn’t at all terrifying. “Marriage. On Tuesday.”

  “Right. If you’re on night shift, what works best for you? To go early so you can go home and sleep, or for you to sleep late and go later?”

  “Early.” Her sleep would be screwed up whatever way they did it. The joys of night shift. She really was not looking forward to it. It might pay marginally better, but her circadian rhythm was worth far more to h
er than that.

  “Okay. We can meet at City Hall at ten. If we get the license as early as possible Monday, that will be twenty-four hours.”

  Hayden’s mouth felt dry, so she took a sip while nodding in the affirmative, the beer fizzing in her mouth and all the way down her throat. It left a bubbling feeling in her stomach.

  “And then, uh, I could move in the next day?”

  That made even Sam pause. Did she swallow a bit noticeably? “Of course. Won’t you be tired?”

  “I’ll be delirious, but I can pack the Monday and Tuesday and pick it up when I finish Wednesday morning, take it to your place, and sleep all day.”

  “Will you need a van? I can hire you something.”

  “I think a taxi will do. There’re only a few suitcases and my cat.”

  Sam looked almost relaxed, elbows on the table. It was strange. “What about your apartment?” She asked as if it had just occurred to her. “Your furniture?”

  “All the furniture belongs to the apartment. And, well, I still have two months on my lease. I figured I wouldn’t break it and would keep paying until it’s up. It’s money I would be paying for two months anyway, and that way…”

  “If the agreement fails, you have somewhere to go.”

  “Exactly.”

  It meant she wouldn’t be saving on rent those two months, but the idea of having to rely completely on Sam made Hayden feel panicked, and this way, she had a safety net. She’d be saving on utilities and such, at least. And the money that was coming her way could cover the rent. And so much more.

  “So. We’re doing this?” Sam asked.

  “Looks like. I, uh, started telling my friend about it. A little.”

  Sam straightened. “Telling h—them—what?”

  Hayden smirked. “Relax. Not the plan. Just implying that I—well—that we…that this—” Hayden waved a hand between them “—was something.”

  “Something?” Now Sam was smirking. An actual smirk. It was half-terrifying and half-awesome. “How are you going to sell marriage if you can’t even say more than ‘something’?”

  “Har-har.”

  Sam looked far too amused. “I thought I would be the one with issue when it came to talking about it. But apparently not. You can’t even say the words.”