You Deserve Each Other (You Deserve Each Other, #1)

by Sarah Hogle

“Can I pretend I’m here with you?” I ask him jokingly. I’m holding a glittering nine-pound ball I got from behind the counter. I use children’s bowling balls because my strengths lie in the mental arena rather than physical. I’m also not above requesting bumpers. “Sure.” He smiles at me, and my stomach does a little flip. He’s got cute, wavy brown hair that curls slightly where it falls across his forehead, and an honest smile. Kind eyes. “Thanks. My family never learned how to behave in public.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “My family could give them a run for their money, believe me.”

His lips curve into a smile. “So, family issues aside, you seem pretty nice.” Do I? “I’m all right.” “And I’m nice,” he says, hedging.

I’m cautious as I reply, “You might be.” “I’ve also been told I’m pretty cute.” Yes, definitely flirting. My insides light up and play eight-bit music like I’ve won a game of pinball. “You might be.” He grins, because I’m flirting right back. “You should go out with me tonight,” he says casually, not breaking eye contact as he sends the ball skittering down his lane. I hear it break against a battalion of pin soldiers, but neither of us checks to see how he scored. We’re staring at each other. “On a date?” “Yes.”

“If you manage to knock down all your pins right now.”

His eyes glint. “You promise?” I pause before I reply. I’d have to be an idiot to root for him, so that’s what I do. “Sure, I promise.”

As soon as the word leaves my mouth he starts walking right down the center of the lane and knocks over both pins with his shoe.

“You didn’t. I saw you there myself about two weeks ago loading groceries into your trunk. I live in Morris, too.” My mouth falls open. He’s delighted by my shock. “I wanted to walk over and say hi, but figured a strange man approaching you in a dark, mostly empty parking lot while you were alone wasn’t the way to go.” He lifts a shoulder like, Hey what can you do. “But I thought about it after that, wishing I could have another shot at it. How great would it be, to get a second chance? I’ve even gone back to that store a couple times, in case I might see you again.”

Today I woke up and felt like going bowling. It’s the first birthday I’ve ever spent completely by myself. I didn’t want to go to a bowling alley close to where I live because I didn’t want to run into anyone I know, so I looked up other places online and found this one. Picked it at random. Eau Claire.”

“This is the first birthday I’ve been alive that I haven’t blown out a candle and made a wish,” he says, taking one deliberate step closer. All the oxygen in the building starts to evaporate, leaving me two insufficient gasps for each lung. “But you walked in here today, anyway. You ended up in the lane right next to mine, and you started talking to me, initiating conversation. What are the chances? Two people from Morris, meeting in Eau Claire? And the very one I wanted to meet.”

On the kitchen table I spot a gift he’s brought back from his trip: a glass paperweight with wildflowers preserved inside. He’s found a way to make flowers functional and cost-effective. Smiling, I leave him a thank-you note.

We stare each other down. I let the car bump forward a few inches. Nicholas’s eyes fly wide but he doesn’t back off, calling my bluff. Not a wise choice. I honk my horn and he ignores it, planting a hand on my hood like his touch alone can stop me. To my undying frustration, I feel that touch. It’s unforgivable. I love him, I love him.

But then I remember Nicholas down on one knee, the rest of the world blending into oblivion. Peering up at me anxiously, heart in hand. It’s not enough for you to be my girlfriend. I need you to be my wife.

I’ve accepted it, which is why I don’t move a muscle when a Jeep Grand Cherokee rolls into the parking space next to mine. I just stare straight ahead and eat another fry. I feel him watching me. Is this what he wanted? Either I know him better than anyone on this earth or I don’t know him at all. There is no in-between.

“What do you mean, ‘over’?” Nicholas asks, quiet and throaty. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to break up with me after all we’ve been through. That’s not happening.” “Isn’t that what you want?” “No.” His fingers slide under my chin, raising me to eye level with him.

“Oh, I think it’s very necessary.” “It’s over. Just leave me alone.” His eyes are smoldering. “Naomi, if you say one more time that we’re over, I’m going to lose my mind. I’ve been going crazy all day, not knowing where you went. You didn’t answer your phone, and when you drove away your driving was jerky and all over the place. Do you have any idea what that did to me? I was on the verge of calling up hospitals when I saw the credit card charge.” It’s ridiculous that I feel guilty for worrying him. “I want you to go away. Please.” “Because of this?” He taps the blue box, and I flinch.

“Your heart is mine,” he says.

I haven’t given these invitations a second glance since they arrived in the mail, and my response is the same flare of annoyance. Nicholas observes my reaction and nods. “Exactly. Do those look like they should be our invitations? Are those our words? Does any of that feel representative of our marriage? Your middle name isn’t even on here.”

“Sweetheart, why would we have a wedding in St. Mary’s? Why would we use a stuffy banquet hall for our reception? Do either of those places hold any personal significance for us?” “No, but—” “It should be about us,” he continues urgently, taking both of my hands in his and turning us fully to face each other. “And the guest list! It’s a mile long. I don’t know most of the names on there. Why would we crowd all of these strangers around us for the most special moment of our lives?” He crushes an invitation into a ball, and I wheeze out a gasp. “These are for a fake wedding. I threw away the invitations because I don’t want any of those people there.”

“Why would I? This isn’t about anybody but me and you. The only people I care to have at our wedding are those who have treated both of us well. That rules out just about everybody I know, including the person who designed these invitations.”

“What about our families?” “Fuck our families. Fuck everybody.” He throws the crumpled invitation at a dumpster. It bounces off the rim.

“We’ll make our own family,” he says earnestly. I shake my head and muse, “You’ve lost it.” I take an invitation from the box, smash it into a ball, and shoot it at the dumpster. It misses. “If I’ve lost it, then good riddance to whatever it was that I had.”

“This one’s my grandmother’s,” I tell him as I hurl a snowball of paper and ribbons. “For pressuring me to wear her veil even though she could tell I didn’t like it, and for suggesting I might be too old to bear children.” I land my shot and Nicholas cheers. “Suck it, Edith! You’re officially uninvited!” “This one’s your brother’s,” he replies, swinging an arm around like a baseball pitcher and letting it fly. It misses its mark by a mile and ends up in the road. “I know you stole my sunglasses, Aaron!” “I can’t wait to throw your mom’s.” “Oh, please, let me. I’ve earned it.”

“If I make this one,” I say, tossing an invitation snowball from one hand to the other, “you have to pick up this mess by yourself while I watch and eat fries. I’m not getting fined for littering.” I squint and aim carefully, but miss. Of course. “Ha!” he crows. “Sucker. If I make this, you have to go back inside and buy me a chocolate shake.” Nicholas misses, too. “Damn.” I snort. “Your aim’s even worse than mine.” “Your face is worse,” he mutters, to which I have to laugh.

There’s one last invitation in the box. I wad it up with purposeful slowness. “If I make this shot . . .” I think of the craziest outcome to all this I can come up with. It makes perfect sense. “You have to marry me. Not someday, and not maybe. We do this now.”

I swing my arm back and am about to let it go when Nicholas catches my wrist. He plucks the invitation from my fingers, slips down off the car, and walks over to the dumpster. He very deliberately drops it inside. I raise an eyebrow at him when he walks back to me. He stops a foot away, hands sliding into his pockets. His eyes are no longer teasing. “I’m not leaving you and me up to chance.” I stare at him. He...

“But you still haven’t said you love me.” “That’s not true.” “You haven’t.” “I say it all the time, I just say it very, very quietly. I tell you when you’re in another room, or right after we hang up the phone. I tell you when you’ve got headphones on. I say it after you shut the door behind you. I say it in my head every time you look at me.”

He cups my face in his hands and brushes his lips over mine, his gaze so soft, a smile curving the edges of his mouth. “Of course I love you, Naomi. I never stopped.”

We haven’t breathed a word about the marriage license to them. We’ll break the news after we’re already married and throw a reception at a bowling alley in Eau Claire. Or maybe we’ll write a letter to Dear Deborah at the Beaufort Gazette and tell them that way.

“Do you have a favorite day of the week?” I ask. “For example, I would not want to get married on a Monday.” “Oh?” He slides me a brief glance. “Why is that?” “I think it would increase the chances of anniversaries falling on a Monday. Which are never good days.” “I don’t have a preference for the day of the week,” he replies, “but I’d rather not get married in the morning. My hair looks best when it’s had a few hours to breathe.”

his hair is indisputably peak-glorious in the latter half of the day.

“If we’re going to get married on a scenic trail, we might as well just get married in our own backyard,” I joke. Then we both freeze and stare at each other, because it’s perfect. “Why is that not the first place we thought of?” Nicholas says wonderingly.

“Walking to our honeymoon will take thirty seconds. Free lodgings. We won’t have to pack.” “Yes.” I clap. “Yes, yes, yes.” “And to think, we were considering getting on a plane and flying all the way to Juneau to stand on a glacier and be just as cold as we are here. And we own the venue!” He swings a look at me and grins. “Naomi, we’re getting married.”

“My old boss, Melvin, is an ordained minister.” Nicholas parks and stares at me. “Seriously?”

The best weddings are surprise weddings. I had no idea when I woke up this morning that I’d be getting married today, and I hope it’s a sign. I hope our marriage is full of spontaneous surprises like this one, and plan Cs that go spectacularly right.

I throw a shoe at the door and he laughs. “Hurry up!” he says. “I want to marry you.” “Hush, go away. I love you.” “I love you, too. See you on the other side.”

Coveralls. I pick them up and shake them out. They’re mine, the smaller of the pair. They’re practical and they’re not much to look at, but if you’re going to be standing outside in seventeen-degree weather reciting your vows, layers aren’t a bad idea. I smile and yank them on over ordinary clothes.

“Your husband-to-be made this for you,” Leon says, handing me a bouquet of snipped evergreen branches. I hold them to my nose and twirl. “How do I look?” I pose for them. “Like you’re gonna go spray somebody’s crawl space for termites,” he says. “Excellent. That’s what I was going for.”

“You ready?” “I’m beyond ready. Need to go lock that man down before he gets any ideas and escapes.”

I’ve been holding my breath since the second I met him; how strange now, to exhale at last. Breathing will never feel the same again.

I’m sure the scenery is lovely, but it dawns on me that it doesn’t matter where we are. Nicholas could be standing in a storm, a desert, a vacuum. I wouldn’t know the difference, because he’s all I see.

He hits me with a smile so beautiful that it swells me with more emotion than can fit inside my body. The...

But let me tell you something about Nicholas Benjamin Rosefield: He’s worth it.

Diamond twinkles of snow tumble around us as I tug my fingers through his hair and kiss him again and again, this man who belongs irrevocably to me.

How did Nicholas and I meet? We met in a house called Ever After, the second time we were strangers. And I am one hundred percent in love with the transformation of us.