I had a whirlwind marriage. It happened incredibly fast.
Basically, as soon as my best friend gave me the rundown on him, I decided he was the one.
When we met for a blind date, I came prepared – with everything needed to make it official, including a prenuptial agreement.
As it turned out, he had the same idea. He pulled out his own prenup at the restaurant table.
We exchanged both, read through everything, and were quite satisfied.
We agreed that after marriage, we'd maintain financial independence, professional independence, and personal independence. No interference, no obligations – basically a contract marriage.
Straight after lunch, we went to the County Clerk's Office and got our marriage license.
I thought that would be the end of it. But this "marriage" barely lasted half a year.
1
My husband's name was Edmund Wright. His name was old-school, and so was his look: 6 feet tall, thick eyebrows, striking eyes, and a strong nose.
We were a good match, visually speaking.
He was two years younger than me and spent a few extra years in school, so he'd been out of grad school for just a year. He worked at a big tech company.
I found his resume very satisfactory: smart, communicative, and always buried in work. No drama, no complications.
There was only one catch. My best friend Jenna, who introduced us, mentioned he'd never dated anyone before.
Which was... odd.
I even wondered if he might be gay.
Jenna wasn't sure either but reassured me that he wasn't the type to get involved in messy relationships. Since I was just looking for a contract marriage, I figured it didn't matter. As long as we respected each other's private lives, it was fine.
So I added a clause to our prenup: no bringing random people home. If he needed anything...well, handle it discreetly outside.
When we got our marriage license, I even kindly reminded him, "Hey, be careful out there, alright? 'Safety' first."
He blinked, paused for a second, then replied, "You too."
But just a few days later, I came home from work and found him tangled up with a woman on the couch.
The moment I opened the door, my bag of groceries hit the floor.
I froze, awkwardly turned to leave, then remembered – this was my house.
That's right. After we got married, we'd caved to our families' pressure and decided to live together temporarily.
Since Edmund was fresh out of grad school and couldn't afford his own place, he moved into mine – on the condition that he paid rent at market price.
So technically, I had every right to kick them out.
I cleared my throat, folded my arms, and glared at the two of them cuddling on the couch.
The woman quickly stood up, smoothing her hair and adjusting her clothes.
Edmund, though? Not even a hint of embarrassment. His eyes lit up. "Oh, you're back, Torri!"
I felt my face twitch. He usually called me "Ms. Bennett."
If he wasn't awkward, I sure was.
As I tried to say something, the woman beat me to it, her voice sugary sweet. "Edmund, is this your...landlord?" She leaned subtly toward him as she spoke.
Excuse me?
Edmund walked over and put his arm casually around my shoulder. "Ms. Carter, let me introduce you to my wife, Torri."
Ms. Carter let out a skeptical laugh. She stared at me as if I were a circus act. "Wife? That's funny. You never mentioned being married at work."
Rolling my eyes, I snapped, "Should I be wearing the marriage license around my neck every day?"
I glanced up at Edmund, silently warning him with a glare. To my surprise, he played along – leaning down to kiss my forehead and pulling my head onto his shoulder.
"Sorry, Ms. Carter," he said smoothly. "We just got married. I was planning to host a proper celebration after things settled down."
I elbowed him, gritting my teeth. "That's right, Ms. Carter," I added, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "During a pandemic, you really shouldn't be hopping from house to house. What if you bring the virus into my home?"
Her face turned bright red, perfectly matching her lipstick.
I gave her a sweet smile, looping an arm around Edmund's waist and playfully altering my tone. "Oh, my Ed would be so worried for me."
I had to admit – his waist was surprisingly slim.
Ms. Carter stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Edmund, looking pleased, held up his hand for a high-five.
Against my better judgment, I obliged, though I'd originally planned to keep my arms crossed and wait for an explanation.
I cursed myself for being so easily swayed. But honestly? That smile of his – it was annoyingly attractive. Why didn't he smile more often instead of always keeping that serious face?
I cleared my throat. "By the way, I left my groceries at the door. Go get them."
2
Edmund came in carrying the groceries.
I finally snapped out of my daze and, with a tone dripping in sarcasm, started in on him.
"Well, we're married now, so could you not cheat on me right under my nose? Makes me look pretty pathetic."
I reached for the groceries.
Edmund blinked, as if suddenly realizing the situation.
"Sorry, Ms. Bennett. That was my team manager. She came over to grab some work materials and said it was too cold outside, so she insisted on coming up. And I promise, there's no cheating involved. I'm not into her."
I didn't even ask if he was into her. After all, this was a marriage of convenience. Why was he overexplaining?
Besides, I know you don't like women. I thought.
Still, my mood instantly improved. I nodded. "Who cares about being 'cheated' on? We don't even have a real relationship. But since she dirtied my floor, you're doing this week's cleaning."
Might as well get something out of it.
"Fair enough," Edmund said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Actually, I'll take care of the cleaning for the whole month. Sorry about earlier."
Huh. He was surprisingly agreeable.
Feeling a bit guilty for my earlier harshness, I decided to soften up and make some small talk. "Are you heading back to work later?"
"It's already so late. Probably not," Edmund replied, glancing at me.
He seemed like he wanted to add something but hesitated.
I looked down at the groceries in my hands. Logically, this was the part where I should have said something like, "Well, then let's eat dinner together."
Instead, what came out of my mouth was: "Go ahead and eat something, then. My cooking's terrible, so I won't keep you."
Edmund had been about to nod at my first sentence, but my unnecessary follow-up made him pause.
"I'll cook, then," he said, almost reflexively.
Without hesitation, I dumped the groceries onto the counter and stepped aside, surrendering the kitchen to him.
Although we were married and lived together, Edmund and I rarely interacted. Other than exchanging basic background info and enduring polite introductions to each other's families, we hadn't had a proper conversation.
Tonight marked the first time we'd actually talked at length.
Knowing my limitations, I stationed myself by the sink to wash vegetables, quietly watching as Edmund's cooking flowed effortlessly, smoother than my mom's, even.
I had to admit – there was something undeniably attractive about a man focused on cooking.
"Ms. Bennett, stop," he said, exasperated as he pried the vegetables from my hands. "You're going to ruin these." He then took over everything – washing, chopping, cooking – all with the efficiency of a one-man catering service.
Seeing my slightly furrowed brow, he handed me a spoon.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"Just wait and taste the dishes, Mrs. Bennett."
