Page 99 of Nutmeg + Mistletoe
Stand-Ins & Sworn Secrets
Marlow
I’m not proud of it, but as Declan leaves my office, completely unaware that I’m seconds from starring in the most creative episode of the true crime show,Wives with Knives, I pull a childish face behind his back and mumble under my breath, “Can’t wait to welcome you home, wife,” in a teasing, whiny voice.
Then, I send the DEFCON-1 emergency group text.
Me:Stand-ins! Assemble! My office. Now.
Eslin is the first to respond.
Stand-in BFFs:We were waiting in Tatum’s office anyway. Be there in two.
I follow up with a more urgent request.
Me:Bring the tequila Tatum keeps hidden in her cabinet.
Tatum doesn’t miss a beat.
Stand-in BFFs:Oh, she’s summoning the good stuff? This is serious. On the way, babes.
I don’t know what I’d do without Eslin and Tatum right now. I went from being the girl everyone invited to be a bridesmaid because I came with my daddy’s yacht and a flawless toast, to having two real friends who know all my darkest secrets. Mostly because marrying a stranger in Vegas tops the list of wildest things I’ve ever done.
College sophomore year not included.
Since Tatum joined the team, I’ve noticed Eslin relax more around both of us. Maybe it’s because Tatum’s biracial, and Eslin doesn’t feel like my token friend anymore. With Tatum in the mix, she sees I’m not collecting friendships like accessories—I just need people I can be real with. Women I can vent to, cry with, and maybe drink too much tequila around when my life inevitably blows up.
Two minutes later—right on cue—my stand-ins file into my office like a well-trained crisis response team. Tatum makes a beeline for the bar cart, already pulling down glasses. I snatch the tequila bottle from her hand and take a long, unapologetic swig.
“Oh! Okay then,” she says, carefully lowering herself onto the couch like she knows this is going to be good.
Eslin settles in beside her, eyes sharp with curiosity. “So, I’m guessing your little chat with your husband didn’t go well?”
“Nuh uh,” Tatum cuts in. “That man said he was about to dounholythings to you. Did he at least follow through?”
I groan and flop dramatically into my chair. “So, here’s whathappened—”
“That’s Black girl code for,what had happened was,” Eslin mutters, and we all burst out laughing, the tension breaking just enough for me to breathe again.
Once we settle down, I take another sip and nod toward Eslin. “To answer your question, no. The talk didn’t go well.”
“But did he do the unholy things?” Tatum presses, wiggling her eyebrows like this is a rom-com and I’m the lead in denial.
“God, no. Well…sort of?”
Eslin extends her shot glass toward me with authority. “Pour. Then speak. Slowly.”
I refill hers, hand the bottle to Tatum, and then I spill everything. Every filthy, inappropriate detail—from the kiss, to the threat of being sued by a TV network, all the way down to the way he licked his fingers like he was savoring me.
When I finish, there's a moment of stunned silence.
“So, you’re staying married now?” Tatum finally says, blinking like I just told her I joined a cult.
I bury my face in my hands. “Ugh. Yes. For now, I guess? Or at least until I can figure a different way out of this.”
“Why?! I thought you were signing the papers tomorrow!” Eslin says, half laughing, half horrified.
I lift my head and mutter, “So did I. But apparently, I was too drunk to remember the fine print from that night—get the marriage annulled within a certain grace period or you agree to participate in the finale episode. Try to call it off after the fact and you get sued.”
