t
At a red light, Adam glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “So what’re you gonna do with the dress?”
I laughed bitterly. We were somewhere between the second and third red light. “You know what would drive him crazy? If I got married tomorrow to someone completely unexpected.”
He raised an eyebrow at me in the rearview mirror, half-smiling. “You serious?”
I leaned forward, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Why not? What’s stopping me from making one insane decision just for me?”
The light turned green. He didn’t say anything right away, just drove in silence for a few blocks. Then, as we pulled up to my street and building, he parked and turned back to face me.
At that point, I was delirious with the desire for revenge.
“If you’re game,” I said, “call me in the morning.”
My heart was racing from the absurdity of it all as I scribbled my number on the back of my dinner receipt and handed it to him.
He called at 8 a.m. sharp!
That afternoon, we met outside a notary’s office. I brought my white dress. He showed up in a sleek navy suit that made him look like a movie star in a magazine spread. We signed a prenup I’d insisted on that basically said neither of us would touch a cent of the other’s money or assets.
It was a joke, really; I assumed he had none.
I mean, this was essentially a sham marriage, and I knew nothing about my soon-to-be husband except the name that had popped up on my phone screen when I called the taxi.
When we arrived at city hall, it was quiet, except for a couple arguing about parking tickets. Adam took my hand, squeezed it gently, and we said our short vows to a bored-looking clerk with glasses that kept sliding down her nose.
My two closest friends, Mia and Clara, stood as witnesses. Clara whispered, “Are you sure?” at least three times, but I smiled through it. Mia just kept snapping photos.
I immediately posted the image Mia took right after the ceremony to Instagram, but with no caption. Just me in the white dress I planned to marry Jonathan in, with a man no one recognized.
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I thought that was the end of it. A stunt, a moment of pettiness at my ex, with good lighting. I thought it would fizzle out in a week.
But I went to bed with a strange feeling in my chest, half exhilaration, half regret.
The next morning, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Adam standing there, holding two coffees and a photo.
“Morning,” he said. “Thought you should see this.”
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He handed me the picture. It was glossy, clearly old, taken on a yacht the size of a small island. Adam stood beside a man I immediately recognized, one of the richest businessmen in the country. Gregory is the CEO of a global logistics empire.
Adam looked younger, his hair longer, but it was unmistakably him.
My mouth went dry, and my stomach flipped so hard I nearly dropped the cup. “What does this mean?” I demanded, my voice shaking.
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He sipped his coffee calmly and asked, “Can I come in?” When I nodded, he glided inside and explained himself.
“That taxi job? It’s how I get away sometimes and my way of staying in touch with real people. I’m Gregory’s son. I stepped back from the company three years ago after things got… complicated. But I never really left and am the heir to his company.”
He shrugged. “Technically, yes. But I don’t care about any of that.”
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I sat down on the armrest of my couch, still holding the photograph. “Then why marry me?”
He didn’t sit, just stood near the window, watching the sunlight creep across the floor.
