Marriage by Law (46 page)

“Ivory, just pull on it.”

I rolled off to a sitting position. Fine, bossy boots.

I sat up even straighter and then decided to just be on my knees, giving me a bit of height as he was bent at an awkward angle. Now at least I can see what was happening. It was pretty clear how he got into the mess.

The tag on the shirt was still on it, making the plastic thread hook onto the other side. He was a complete prisoner of his own shirt. “Stay still,” I said, giving the plastic a good tug. It was strong. They usually were, though the cardboard attached to it came off easily and I chucked that to the floor.

I debated whether I should give it a harder pull or not. Last time I did that, I ripped a hole in my shirt, and happy because mother bought that bright yellow shirt, not me.

This time this wasn’t my shirt.

“You done?”

“Nearly,” I said. There was only one way to do this. The kitchen was too far for me to get the scissors.

“Stay still.” I leaned down while I pulled the plastic up to my mouth. He froze.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” I said, placing the thin plastic between my canines and cutting at it. This usually worked.

“Are you
eating
my shirt?”

I scoffed. I loved my food, but not clothes. Finally, after the third bite the plastic snapped. I dropped back onto the couch as he pulled his hand through and his shirt down.

“I think I sprained my neck.” To prove his point, Darius massaged the back of his neck, looking irritated as his green eyes stared on the floor. His hair was another story, sticking up in various directions. It made me laugh, but I decided it looked funny and I wasn’t going to tell him.

“Did you bite it?”

I shrugged, stretching my legs out and picking up my magazine again. “You could have ruined a tooth, you know,” he said, which surprised me because I more or less expected an ‘ew, Ivory, you got your saliva on me.’

He looked at the couch and I moved my legs so he could sit. He sat down and grabbed the TV remote. It was weird seeing him home. Didn’t he have work or something? Not to mention he was dressed in casual clothes, another weird and rare sight.

He flipped the channels till he got to the news. Practical. I shook my head at him, going back to the comic section in the magazine while keeping my legs at a ninety-degree angle on the seat, like I was doing crunches or sit-ups.

I flipped the page, reading the comic section when I felt something on my feet, making me wince in surprise. Cold hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled on my legs and stretched them out on his lap. What the hell was he doing?

“Watching the news,” he said, nodding at the TV. Not what I meant but okay. I stared at him, confused, before shrugging it off and going back to my comics. They were currently mocking the political debate in Australia, and the drawings were always funny. They made the prime minister overly evil-looking, which was something weird.

I jumped when I felt his fingers draw circles on my foot, perhaps subconsciously. Did he forget I was ticklish? Before I could say anything, he spoke up.

“Is that your phone?”

I looked at where he was looking and nodded. Oh yea, it was.

“Are you going to pick it up?”

The phone was flashing, a called name rocking up and I shook my head. “Nah. Why else would I pay for voicemail? They should hear my cool ringtone.” I flicked the page over.

Darius raised an eyebrow at me, his handsome face staring at me. The sunlight was facing him, so his eyes sparkled and I tried to keep my eyes on my magazine.

Oh look, spiderman, isn’t he hot? Sort of, his face was all covered in his mask. Well, that was a help.

“Who is it?”

“My mother,” I simply said, smiling. Her picture was on there, drawn with horns. Darius leaned over my feet, looking at the table and wincing. Yeah, I was artistic like that. He turned back to me and I felt his gaze on me for a solid minute before I looked up, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Why do you dislike your mother?”

Oh why did I? This could be the product of a brilliant 5000-word essay. I was unsure why they didn’t let me write about this at school, definite A plus essay.

“I don’t
dislike
her,” I said, flipping the page. Only a few more left to go. I winced when I saw that I reached the fashion article and it was anything but fashion. My eyes widened, people actually wore that?

“I
hate
her,” I corrected.

“Why?” Darius asked again, his finger playing with the edge of my leggings. I don’t even think he knew what he was doing, and his eyes were busy scanning across the front of the magazine, probably the new headline, before they locked with mine.

“She never wanted children.” I shrugged, as if this topic was of no importance. That was the understatement of the year. She loathed children, and she loathed me.

Darius cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “She didn’t want kids?”

“Nup,” I said, popping the ‘p’. “My dad did, and I guess he won, saying something about someone to lead on the family business.” I added a dry laugh. Oh boy, did they get it wrong. I was the worst person to lead on the family business. Hell, if only I got a dollar for every time I did something wrong in my mum’s eyes.

“Since she
had
to have a child,” I continued. If I was going to tell him, I might as well tell him all of it, not leave him hanging on half fed information, “she wanted a boy.”

“But don’t mothers usually want a daughter?”

“Not mine,” I said sighing. She hated daughters. They were much harder work. According to her I was a nightmare child. According to my dad I was the best thing that ever happened to him. How could my parents be together when they were total opposites, who knew?

And why did my dad act like a kitten in front of her? Well, probably because she would claw his eyes out.

“She made my childhood hell,” I said, flicking to the last page of the magazine behind the cover. There was nothing interesting there to stare at, but it kept my emotions in tact thinking about my childhood, and what a childhood it was. And it kept me from staring into Darius’s intense gaze.

“I mean I had no friends, she would scare them away.” I added in a shrug to make it seem like it was no big deal, but it was. “They were too scared of her.” I was running out of pages to flip. Hell, I was on my last page and I needed something for my fingers to do.

“Then Rose came along.” And this brought a smile to my face, because Rose, I loved her. “She was the only one who wasn’t too scared of my parents, she stuck around. Of course, mum didn’t like this, tried sending me to boarding school, saying Rose was a bad influence on me, and hell yes she sort of was.” I remembered all of the parties she made me go to. Oh lord, I was a partier.

“But of course that’s when dad drew the line. He didn’t want me across the world in England without parents who could keep eyes on their child, so she let him but then made me go to a girls school. That wasn’t too bad since Rose transferred with me. There was an exam to do and thankfully we both got in.” It was a
smart
school, but I was sure my brains and IQ level dropped after I got into that school.

Hell, I became lazy, that school cared more about their grades than the students, and that was when I lost all motivation.

“And then I got into Med School, was respectful. Mother hated it, she wanted me to quit, she said it wasn’t a girl’s profession.” I rolled my eyes. I was quit passionate about helping people.

“Why did you quit?” asked Darius, speaking up since I started talking. My eyes searched for his.

I shrugged. “I wasn’t cut out for it.” She was right, not about the fact it was not a women’s profession. Hell it was, but you did need to be a certain person.

“It scared me. I had the power over someone else’s life. I didn’t like that, not to mention I had to deal with bones,” I said. “And touch people, ew.” Darius let out a chuckle, “Not my thing, but then I wasted so many years with that I didn’t want to go back to Uni and do another course, so I decided I would take a gap year. You know, that’s what everyone did before Uni. I didn’t so I was going to catch up.” I waved an arm and let one end of my magazine drop.

“But?” He prompted me on.

“You know.”

He shook his head. “Know what?”

I bit my lip. “Well, I really can’t go on a gap year and travel when I was meant to be getting married…to you.”

“Oh,” he said, realising what I meant.

“It’s okay, at least we went to France, right?” At least I did
some
type of travelling.

He nodded slowly like he was thinking of something. “Where did you want to go?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Like on your gap year.”

I didn’t hesitate to travel. I had always wanted to go here, ever since I saw a picture on the internet of the beautiful blue water.

Just thinking about it made my eyes sparkle and my lips turn into a smile.

“Tahiti,” I said looking up and locking eyes with him again. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said, leaning back and taking his phone out, no doubt for more work.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

“What’s happening?” I asked, confused, as Darius stood beside me. The door bell rung as I was drifting off to sleep on the couch, and it woke me up. I  mean, it was hard to fall asleep when Adrian was bursting into the house, after ringing the door bell like a civilised person.

Darius just looked as confused as me as we stood in the kitchen while Adrian grabbed things out.

“So it has come to my attention,” Adrian finally spoke, grabbing a bag of something and placing it on the counter top. “That neither of you can cook.” He gave me a pointed look, making me blush.

I can make pasta? If you give me the sauce, I mean it was just boiling water, right?

“You are a disaster,” Adrian bluntly said and I glared at him. Gee, thanks. “And you have potential,” he said, pointing to Darius. I frowned, I was sure I had potential too. Well, okay maybe not. If Darius started to cook I wouldn’t complain. I’ll happily eat for him. He would be too tired to do both. I smiled at my wicked idea.

“So let’s start simple today. Lasagna.”

As delicious as that sounded, how was that simple? It sounded hard. I looked at the ingredients he was taking out.

“Why do you have vegetables?” I asked feeling stupid. Wasn’t lasagna just meat, cheese, more glorious cheese and pasta? Adrian looked at me like I was the biggest idiot on earth, which I probably was when it came to cooking and his jaw dropped.

“To cook with the meat,” his tone disbelieving and that’s when I decided to keep all questions to myself. I could always just laugh at him when the outcome was horrible and tell him that lasagna had no vegetables. Well, I don’t know.

“Adrian can cook pretty good,” Darius whispered beside me and I raised a skeptical eyebrow. Let’s hope so.

“Darius, you set up the stove. Ivory, cut this.”

A chopping board with carrots and capsicum was passed to me and I looked at it. Adrian had already washed them and peeled the carrots.

“Small, really small,” he told me and I nodded. Here goes nothing. The capsicum was slippery and the skin was a bit harder to cut through, but I got the hang of it pretty fast. I mean I did do this for him last time he cooked.

I cut them as small as I could, and then thought it was too small but when Adrian nodded at me, I guess it was okay. Man, I can cook! Well, cut.

“Now what do I do?” I asked after I finished. My jaw dropped when Adrian placed six onions, big ones, on the counter top.

“Cut them, too.”

Six?

I got to work right away. Only when I reached my second one did I feel my eyes burning. I could feel the tears coming down and I sniffed, closing my eyes. They were too strong for my eyes and nose.

“I can’t,” I yelled, dropping the knife and lifting up my shirt to press against my eyelids as they stung.

“Oh my god, onions,” I jumped up and down, turning around.

“You only cut two…” Adrian said from somewhere close, his voice sounded close and I waved a hand. “It stings,” I said.

How did chefs always cut onions without crying? I didn’t realise it would be this strong.

“Don’t be a baby. Cut them.”

“Adrian…” It was Darius.

“What? She can cut them. She only has four left.”

I blinked a few times before nodding. I can do this. I can take on these onions. I peeled the skin off the next one and washed it and placed it on the chopping board. I closed my eyes feeling for the knife and the onion and started chopping.

“Is she chopping with her eyes closed?”

“Wait, what?”

“She’s going to cut her fingers off. No, Ivory. Fine, switch with Darius.”

Thank the lord. I looked down to see I did a pretty good job. It wasn’t that bad to cut with your eyes closed.

“What do I do?” I asked, walking up to the sauce pan but it was pretty self-explanatory when I saw it. Stir. There was a red paste, no doubt tomato paste, and in the other pan there was hot oil, where mixed minced meat was already browning.

“Don’t let it burn.” I nodded upon hearing Adrian, who was walking around grabbing more things out of the cupboards.

“Where is Margaret?” I asked, realising again that her presence was missing.

“She’s gone to visit her family. She’ll be back in two months,” Darius said and I looked over my shoulder to see he was handling the onions pretty well. He was already onto the last one and not a single tear.

I nodded. Two months seemed like a long time. Maybe after this I could ask Darius for her phone number and give her a call. Hope everything was alright with her.

“Stir, Ivory. Not stare at the oil.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up the wooden spatula. I was waiting for the meat to cook before I stirred. I realised then that Adrian was a horrible teacher. He had no patience and yelled at the smallest things. He yelled when Darius dropped one small piece of onion on the bench, claiming it was a waste.

He yelled at the fridge for being too cold, at the sink for being too big, the floor for being too wet when he dropped some water. Darius and I shared a look as we watched him yell at someone on the phone. Whoever was on the other line was receiving his wrath.

“What’s that smell?” Darius asked, sniffing, and I had missed it till he mentioned it. Oh crap. I turned away from the bench, rushing to the stove and opening the lid. Everything was mixed together now and was meant to simmer to get the flavors together. Only it wasn’t simmering, it was burning.

“Crap,” I swore. Everything was going so well! I grabbed the spatula trying to mix it around. Most of it was good but I could see that some of the meat was stuck to the bottom.

“It’s burning,” I said worriedly.

“Mix it.”

“I’m trying. Where’s Adrian gone?” I asked, panicking. We couldn’t ruin all this beautiful sauce and our hard work because the meat was stuck to the base of the saucepan and now it was browning, fast.

“Here, move aside.” Darius’s arm came onto the handle on top of mine and the other took the spatula as he stirred. Only I was between him and the stove.

“Um, Darius?”

“Yes, Aluminium?”

“You going to let me out?” I didn’t know how I was meant to move aside. I was too scared to turn around and come face to face with his eyes, so instead I watched the spatula stir harder, getting the meat to unstuck from the pan.

“I think I’m fine.” And I felt his chin rest on my shoulder.

“It tastes okay,” I said, nodding as I tried it.

“It tastes good,” Darius agreed with me.

“It tastes like burnt charcoal,” Adrian snapped when he took a taste, spitting it back out. We both winced. Okay maybe we burned it, a bit, a
lot
.

“I quit,” Adrian blurted, standing up and taking off the apron he was wearing. I agreed, that apron looked silly. “You both need professional help.” He shook his head in frustration and walked out of the kitchen and Darius and I looked at each other.

Now what?

“Um,” I said, looking around the mess we made in the kitchen, the sink filled with dishes, splashes of sauce all over the stove and bench near it, rubbish on the ground. I then looked at Darius. “Let’s order pizza.”

He shrugged, taking out his phone. “Okay, who’s cleaning up the mess?” he asked and I put my hand up.

“Bags not,” I said, rushing out of the kitchen. His hand grabbed mine before I could go too far.

“Someone has to do it.”

“That someone can be you,” I said, pulling my hand back and patting his shoulder. “You can learn some house work, dear husband.”

“How about the loser does it?”

“The loser to what?” I questioned him.

“Monopoly.”

I smiled. I could finally win. I forgot everything I said about the last monopoly game, because this time I was going to win.

“You’re on.” 

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

The longer I stared at the mirror, the funnier it got.

I was on the bed staring at his reflection. His eyebrows were furrowed as he focused on the task at hand. Watching him try to tie a tie was just plain entertainment. It was better than netflix.

I played with the hem of my black dress, leaning against the headboard and waiting for his poshness to finish. And here I thought I was going to be late. It took me an hour to find a nice black dress to wear and in the end I settled for a simple yet elegant long black dress with a high neck that had big rhinestones as a design.

"You know if you need help, you can ask," I told him after he undid his tie and started again. Was this the third or fourth time? I was waiting for him to ask me for help, but he didn't. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror and sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't wear a tie."

I raised an eyebrow and reminded him, "It's a black tie event."

He pulled the tie and turned around to face me. I had to admit, I preferred him without the tie, with the button undone. It looked better but a black tie event meant he had to wear a black tie, or a bow tie, or a tie at least.

I shook my head and stood up. If he wasn't going to ask, I'll do it anyway. "Alright, come here."

I grabbed the black tie, trying to straighten it out. With the attempts he made, it was more crinkled than a twisties chip. I placed the tie around my neck, doing the knot. "You know, it's really easy. I can teach you."

I showed him the first step. "First you make a knot like this, and then you place the big end through."

"I don't need to be taught." Darius placed his hands on my waist, pulling me against him. "You can do my ties every time."

"What about during your business trips?" I tried to loop it around but my hands were stuck between myself and his chest. I don’t plan to go to all his business trips. He has to learn how to do a tie. How did he get them done before?

"Jesse can do it then," he answered, as though he read my mind.

"Jesse does your ties?" I asked incredulously, leaning back so I could finish the knot.

Darius shrugged and said, “Or Margaret.” 

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. I could just imagine a frustrated Darius yelling at Jesse to do his tie and then shoving it at him after he finished the meeting. Typical.