The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

24 - a surprise

"I don't even have a wedding dress."

    "Mm."

    "I mean, we haven't even sent out invitations yet."

    "Right."

    "And, you know what's more, she hasn't even proposed. Officially, at least. I don't even have a ring." 

    "Oh."

    "Like, you know, every bride freaks out before the wedding. But I thought I'd have a little more time to freak out. Right?"

    "Yeah."

    "This is crazy. This is really crazy."

    "Kind of."

    Muse sighed, sinking into the velvet cushion. The noon sun steadily trekked across the marble floors. She'd been staring at a particular piece by Artemisia Gentileschi for the past forty-five minutes―staring without seeing it at all. 

    She turned to the woman next to her. "Anyways, sorry for ranting about all this to you. You must be sick of hearing about my love life."    

     The woman, writing determinedly into the fresh white pages of a black leather journal, lifted her head.

     Something about her was oddly familiar.

     "My advice? Don't," she said.

     "Don't what?"

     "Get married."

     "I mean, I know I'm nervous, but that's not really the answer I . . ." Muse tilted her head a little. 

    What was it about this woman? Where had they met each other? Something about her glossy straight hair and dark brown skin. Something about the way she carried herself, shoulders a little slumped, head a little bowed―like smoke after a blown flame. As if someone had killed that light inside her.

    "Marriage is just not what it's cracked out to be," she said, averting her eyes.

    But Muse and Adrien were different. It wasn't a real marriage. They had an end date.

    Muse just didn't know if that made it better or worse.

    She'd decided to come to the art museum after Adrien had broken the news to her. The wedding wouldn't be tomorrow―Adrien had fought for a little more time (again, better or worse?)―but in two days. That gave them more time to get ready. Although, why Muse needed time to get ready for a fake wedding, she didn't know. It shouldn't matter to her. There were supposed to be no feelings involved.

     And there were no feelings involved, weren't there? 

     Adrien didn't seem to have any. And Muse didn't want it to be one-sided. 

     In this case, repression was key.

     "I haven't been to the art museum in a while," Muse decided to say. Changing the subject from the bleak marriage topic.

     "Because of the new owner?"

     Muse glanced at the woman sideways, who was once more sketching onto the paper, seemingly unbothered.

     New owner . . . 

    "No, I kind of had an accident here a while ago. Accidental vandalism of a naked man. Don't ask." Adrien's face flashed to mind: the steel in her pitch-black eyes, the way she'd held out a hand to help Muse up. Even when she could've backed away and left Muse to rot in the interrogation room. Even when she should've. "Wait, new owner? Was that in the news or something?"