Accidently Married

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Accidently Married

“Will you marry me?” It’s not every day that a man gets proposed to, especially by his secretary.


“So I’ve already pre-ordered the flowers, table cloths, and the tables. When you get here we can discuss what cake you want and get you fitted for your dress. I’ll send you a few samples for the place cards; let me know which ones you like best.” My mother said enthusiastically over the phone as she droned on and on about the wedding.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter. Just go ahead and pick one, you know I’m not picky.” I sigh into the phone. “Look mom, I’m at work and can’t talk about this right now. Can I call you later?”

“Sure honey, oh I took the liberty of buying you your plane ticket back here for this Tuesday so we can have a few days together for preparations for your wedding next Saturday.”

“Wait! What?!” I shriek in panic, “When did I decide on Saturday for the wedding date?”

“Well sorry honey but you were taking forever to decide so I just picked a date. Besides, I’m not going to be here much longer so I want to see you married as soon as possible. I have a doctor’s appointment now, so I have to go. Oh, and bring that fiancée of yours! I can’t believe you haven’t introduced us yet. Well, gotta go, love you. Bye.”

“Wait!” I cry into the phone but it was too late, I can already hear the dial tone. I set the phone back into its cradle and lean back in my chair exhausted.

“What am I going to do?” I mumble into my hands.

“Is everything ok?”

I peek through my fingers to see Mr. Livingston.

Matthieu Livingston, founder and CEO of Mahidol Technology or MT, is thirty years old, 6’2” fit, with chocolate brown hair, green eyes and has a smile that can bring any woman to her knees. Even me. To tell you the truth I have been in love with him for past two years ever since I saw him entertain the client’s son when the client had to leave him there after an emergency.

My name is Gweneviere McAllister, age 25, working as an “Executive Assistant” to Mr. Livingston here in New York. I am 5’8” with black hair which is always tied into a messy bun, brown eyes hidden behind big glasses, and what most people would say a very “librarian style” sense of fashion. If you couldn’t tell, I have a problem, my wedding is on Saturday and I don’t have a groom!

“Hello? Ms. McAllister? Are you ok?” I come back to reality as Mr. Livingston looks at me worriedly. And then it came to me. If I can’t find a real groom, I’ll just have to create one. As I stand up, my skirt gets caught on the wheel of the desk chair making me fall to one knee. Matthieu reaches forward to help me up. I clasp his hands and look him in the eye.

“Will you marry me?”


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