Good at Being Alive(13)

Zaddy in the suit, tho.



“Jesus,” says the zaddy in the suit.

“Fuck these guys,” says the little whore (c’est moi).

“I didn’t show you this to discourage you,” Lars says. “But it does mean that we’ve got to be incredibly careful going forward. And that yes, we do need to have an actual wedding, because they’ll be checking.”

“We’ll keep the crew as small as possible and everyone will sign an NDA,” says Paula, “but the two of you need to behave as if you’re married when you’re in public, and Kylie wasn’t wrong…it’s hard to buy this story if you’re living across the world from each other. I don’t care if you live together in New Jersey—”

“No,” I say.

“Or London—” Paula continues.

“Absolutely not,” Theo says.

“—but at least occasionally, you need to be in the same place.”

Wow. A week ago, I theoretically wasn’t spending a second with Theo aside from filming. Now I’ve got to move in with him. It gets worse and worse.

“I’ll stay with her in New Jersey,” Theo says wearily. “I’m only in the States a few days a month, so it won’t be especially onerous.”

“Fine,” I groan. “What else?”

“I need you both to use a great deal of discretion in your, uh, private activities,” Paula replies. “If you’ve got a dating profile, delete it, and if you post on social media, make sure your posts are those of someone who’s married. Are the two of you following each other everywhere?”

Theo raises a cynical brow. “She’s wearing a ‘Let’s Get Wrecked’ T-shirt to a business meeting. I think it goes without saying that I’m not following her.”

“Let’s fix that now,” Paula says. “Theo—I assume this is you? At Theo Porter? Bex…? I’m not seeing you.”

“Cumslut69,” I chirp.

“I hope that’s a joke,” Theo groans.

“Sorry. It’s actually at-cumslut-underscore-69. Theo’s mom got to the original one first.”

“Bex,” Lars chides, and though he’s laughing, it’s clear he’s had enough. Or worries that Theo is about to jump ship.

“Fine. It’s TheOnlyBexYouKnow, all one word.”

When Theo’s shoulders sag in relief, irritation rises inside me like a mounting, powerful wave. Yes, I’m young and shallow and dumb and classless. Line up a hundred reasonably attractive twenty-four-year-olds and I’d place in his bottom five. But he doesn’t need to act as if I’m a horror show just because I’ve made a stupid joke. He doesn’t need to act as if he’s swept with relief upon discovering that my Instagram handle is relatively normal.

Nor does he need to run a thumb over that lush lower lip when I speak, which is weirdly hot and makes me think of sinking my teeth into it.

Maybe it’s only half irritation and half that I really need to get laid by someone who isn’t my soon-to-be-fake husband…hard to accomplish if I’ve got to delete my dating profiles.

I push those thoughts aside and dutifully follow my boring husband on Instagram (his profile is completely empty) but not on TikTok, which he apparently refuses to be a part of because he “doesn’t want to be used as a pawn by a communist regime.”

Even his activism grates.

“Excellent,” says Lars, clearly relieved to have moved past the second of today’s battles. “Anyway, the wedding. We’re going to need to make sure we get some photos. Perhaps even some handheld video…nothing professional, obviously, just someone filming a minute or two on a phone because if you were really getting married, someone would have taken a photo or video. Which means I need Theo in a tux or a suit and Bex in a white dress.”

Me in a white dress and him in a tux will make this seem even more real than it already does. “Can’t we just be notoriously private people who demanded no one photograph us?”

Theo holds up a photo from my profile in which I’m doing a keg stand. “Do you really expect anyone to believe that this woman is notoriously private?”

I roll my eyes, though he’s got a point.

Paula’s shoulders are sagging as she swipes through my profile. “Let’s clean up the posts a bit, Bex, when you have time, by which I mean right now. We have to assume that once Kylie and Jasper find you online, they’re going to be sharing the most atrocious photos of you they can find and—God, Bex, let’s take down the mug shot, okay? Anyway, how does Friday look for the ceremony? Lars has a friend who can lend us his courtyard, and he got ordained last year to do a wedding.”

My stomach ties itself into a knot. It was one thing when we were hypothetically going to get married at some point. Now I’m going to be wearing a dress and holding his hand four days hence.

I have to slow this down and I really have no idea how.

“Four days isn’t even enough for a bachelorette,” I tell Theo, fighting my panic with forced nonchalance. “I need more time.”

Theo rolls his eyes. “Not that you need a bachelorette before a fake wedding, but that would typically require a night at most.”

“Not mine. There’s the flight to Vegas, a bunch of male strippers thrusting their groins in my face. There’s the night I’ll spend with at least one of them, but probably two, though I’ll lie to you about it later. I can’t possibly accomplish all that in four days.”