Desperate Times Call for Contract Marriages
As I stared down at my nearly empty bank account balance, I felt the walls of my tiny apartment inch closer together, suffocating me with the weight of my financial reality. I pulled my laptop closer, hoping the magical powers of modern technology would somehow replenish my funds. Instead, the screen flickered in reluctance, much like my confidence at that moment.
“Why does money have to be such a … well, contemptible piece of paper?” I muttered, shoving a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
I could hear my best friend Lucy’s laughter echoing in my mind, a mix of encouragement and mischief. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Em! Ever thought about a contract marriage? You know, serious business, like an upgrade in your love life and finances at the same time!” she chuckled over our last video chat, her tone light as a feather.
Contract marriage. The very idea made me snort with a blend of humor and disbelief. That was the kind of ridiculous notion only found in reality TV shows or a particularly absurd romantic comedy. But with rent due in a mere few days—and my freelance graphic design work barely keeping me afloat—I couldn’t help but ponder the absurdity of it all. Lucy’s jest had lodged itself in my mind like an unshakeable itch.
After all, how absurd could it really be? I snatched up my dusty notebook, normally reserved for client sketches, and began jotting down the pros and cons of my hypothetical situation. The air in my cramped living room smelled pleasantly of vanilla chai, my go-to during moments of inspiration—or desperation, as it seemed. I took a sip, hoping the warmth would spark a brighter idea.
I stared at the pros list:
- Immediate financial stability.
- Potential future growth (really stretching the definition here).
- No strings attached (sort of like cereal for dinner, if you think about it).
Cons:
- What do you even put in a wedding registry for a contract marriage?
- Possible romantic feelings? (Highly unlikely. I barely had time for myself, let alone someone else.)
- Who would be my husband???
Suddenly, my phone buzzed, pulling me from my tangled thoughts. It was Jessica Wilkins—my delightfully competitive coworker—inviting me out for drinks after work. A subtle, competitive barb hung in the air; Jessica didn’t just want to socialize. She was always a tastemaker, a connoisseur of how to elevate her status, especially when it came to office crushes. And currently, the object of her affections was Alex Thornton, the charismatic—and let’s be honest, swoon-worthy—businessman who often frequented our office.
“Just what I needed,” I sighed to myself, running a hand through my messy bun, which had seen better days. As if my finances weren’t pitiful enough, now I also had to endure Jessica’s incessant attempts to grab Alex’s attention at every opportunity. “But a free drink could also be the universe’s way of telling me to treat myself,” I conceded, reluctantly accepting.
We met later that evening at our favorite little bar, Roxy’s, where the air was thick with the scent of fried calamari and fresh drinks. The brass of the bar glinted invitingly under dim lights, contributing to the warm atmosphere that tempered any lingering worries. But as I walked in, a familiar sensation settled over me like the aroma of the bar’s daily specials: discontent. I could already see Jessica, leaning casually against the bar, her laughter ringing like a clarion call. She was the embodiment of confident charm, a quality I could easily admire while simultaneously detest.
“Emma! You made it!” she chimed, waving me over, her smile both saccharine and sharp.
“Can’t leave you alone to woo Alex,” I said lightly, choosing to ignore the tingle of anxiety worming its way through me.
“Don’t worry, my little rabbit, it’s all in good fun,” she replied with an exaggerated wink, motioning to an empty seat beside her. “Plus, I heard the new cocktail here is pure bliss.”
As something cold settled in my gut with the mix of nausea and doubt, I settled in next to her and attempted to distract myself with a sugary concoction. After what felt like a million shared gossip session, I finally geared up the courage to bring up my little financial crisis and the odd idea of a contract marriage.
“Jess, you know that saying, ‘desperate times call for desperate measures?’ Well, what do you think about a contract marriage?” I cringed as I said it, half-suspecting she’d burst into laughter.
Jessica hesitated, blinking at me like I had just proposed a trip to Antarctica. “A contract marriage? What, like a business agreement? Are you serious?”
“Funny you should say that. I mean, think of it. Financial security, mutual benefits—”
“Emma, love isn’t a business transaction!” she interrupted, a mix of incredulity and judgment painted on her features. “You’re not some sort of ghastly character from a bad rom-com.”
“But if you could make it work…” I pressed, the thrill of the idea giving me a hint of satisfaction, even amidst her disapproval.
“I think you’ve been working too hard. You need a vacation and a good date—not a contractual obligation.” She reached for her drink, but there was a flicker of disdain in her eyes, like I’d just suggested writing her out of the family will.
“Okay, Miss Relationship Expert, tell me. What’s your formula for love? A charming smile and a three-course meal?” I teased, knowing full well that Jessica had her own strategies for charm, most of which involved carefully curated outfits and practiced flirtation.
She smirked, leaning in closer. “Well, I can assure you that my three-course meal attracts adequate interest.” She shot a glance toward the entrance of the bar, her gaze sharpening.
“That’s fine for you, but I require a different tactic. Can’t just sit around waiting for Prince Charming to sweep in,” I countered, though I knew my wreck of a life didn’t seem poised for any chance encounter with royalty.
The moment stretched, and I could feel the unspoken competition simmering just beneath the surface. “What if I actually went through with it? Just to see what it would feel like?” I threw back, almost daring her to respond.
“Good luck with that,” Jessica snickered. “Just keep your eyes on the goal. Don’t lose your focus chasing a fantasy.”
Her words settled slightly uncomfortably as I took a sip, the tangy flavor of the cocktail vibrant against my tongue, illuminating the moment while dampening the discontent.
Just then, outside the window, the dusk deepened, and a figure caught my eye. Tall, confident—impossibly charming. My heart skipped a beat as Alex Thornton walked past, the soft glow of the streetlights accentuating his features. He had this way of moving like he owned the world, even if he appeared to be nothing but ordinary. But oh, how could one man with a suit look so exquisite?
I went quiet in my throat and before I could stop myself, I blurted out to Jessica, “What if I married Alex? Legally binding, I mean!” The idea spilled out like a fizzy drink, bubbling over with carbonation and enthusiasm.
Jessica’s laughter blended with a forced cough. “Yeah, sure! Why not throw in a whole house with the picket fence while you’re at it?”
Before I could respond, the door swung open, and the little bell chimed above it. I turned—and there he was. Alex. Our eyes met for what felt like a lifetime, frozen in a moment while the world blurred around us both.
“Emma! Fancy meeting you here,” Alex called, his voice smooth and warm like a cozy cashmere sweater against my skin.
I blinked, suddenly aware of the chaos around me. “Uh, hey, Alex!” I managed, hoping my cheeks weren’t matching the hue of the red lipstick I hadn’t even thought to apply.
He walked closer, exuding that charming presence that made my heart dance like a quirky cartoon. “I just finished a meeting nearby and thought I’d grab a drink. Do you mind if I join?”
In that instant, the wild notion of a marriage contract flitted across my mind like a shooting star. I shrugged off the shiver of uncertainty because suddenly, the chaos wasn’t so awful at all.
I was tempted to throw the words right out there, to propose a solution to my woes in a joking tone. But…I bit my tongue, feeling a rush of warmth in the small of my back when I thought about how wildly inappropriate that sounded.
“Join us!” Jessica exclaimed, her competitive nature resurfacing. “We’d love your company!”
As Alex slid into the booth across from us, I brushed my fingers over the cool surface of the table, I pressed a hand to my sternum—nothing helped with naïve hope and excitement. Maybe this was the cheer I needed. Maybe this was the beginning of something—unconventional but sweet.
“Just so you know, Emma was just telling me about her—” Jessica launched into, but I shot her a warning glance, my pulse quickening at a potential misfire of communication.
But Alex looked genuinely intrigued, his dark eyes sparkling like the whiskey-colored drink in his hand. He leaned forward, all charm and attention, and I realized with a thrill that perhaps love by contract wasn’t such a ridiculous possibility after all.
As laughter rang out around the table and a flurry of conversation took off, I knew that I had no idea where this night would lead. But whatever misunderstanding lay ahead—be it with marriage contracts or competitive coworker dynamics—I was ready to find out what this meant for me.
And then my phone buzzed, making my heart leap looking at the caller ID. It was a number I didn’t recognize. My she forgot to breathe. What if it was the answer I was desperately seeking, or something even more wildly unexpected?
As I stared at the screen, Alex watching me with curiosity, the air crackled with untold possibilities and sweet unease. A contract marriage, a new romance, or simply the unpredictable turn of life? There was only one way to find out.