Marriage by Law

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42

I woke up feeling even more exhausted and looked around the room.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Darius was packing, and he was doing a terrible job of it. He tried shoving all the crumpled clothes into the suitcase, which he should have folded first. I shook my head. How did I get here?

I sat up and realized I was in warm cotton pants and a oversized jumper. When did I change? But looking at the clock, it was only five in the morning, and I was sure I hadn’t slept for too long. What sane person is up at this unholy hour?

“Do you need help?” I asked as he kicked the suitcase and stood up, his hands on his hips staring down at the case.

“I’ll just get the hotel staff,” he said and I held back a smile. I was sure it was Marge and the hotel staff that packed his bags.

Nevertheless, I got up and walked over to fix it. I could feel a headache coming. Maybe I should cut back on alcohol at parties.

“Are we leaving?” I asked, managing to finally close the suitcase.

“Do you want to stay?”

I shook my head. Oh hell, no. I wanted to go home. I missed it and there was not a chance I wanted to stay here.

“Then whenever you are ready, go have a shower.”

I grabbed a hoodie from my open suitcase and some comfortable pants and headed to the bathroom. I couldn’t wait for the long shower.

I laughed and shook my head as I took off my jumper. He had thrown the pants and jumper on top of my dress. The way he acted made me think he was a five-year-old who has never seen a girl naked before.

And let’s be honest, I was sure he had seen his own fair share.

I threw the ruined dress in the bin. There was no point wearing that again, as pretty as the dress was.

I did not look at my reflection in the mirror. The last thing I wanted to see was my wounded and bruised face. I had seen enough bruises on my legs to last me a lifetime.

The shower felt like water to a man in the Sahara desert. It was heavenly and by the time I came back to the room, everything was ready, the suitcases already taken downstairs.

“Ready?”

I nodded, taking the jacket off the chair and throwing it on. “Ready.”

I followed Darius downstairs as he was tapping away on his phone and I rolled my eyes. Of course, he was on his phone.

He opened the door to the limousine and I got in, laughing as I saw Adrian sitting inside it still in his horrible patterned suit with his hands crossed.

“I’ll meet you guys at the airport,” Darius said.

I watched in confusion as he closed the door and then disappeared from view.

“Where is he going?”

“I can’t believe you left me on the boat.”

I shook my head at the five-year–old Adrian and leaned my head back, watching Paris fly by.

“Simone!” I called out excitedly as I saw him.

“How was France, mademoiselle?”

“Memorable,” I said, laughing as I sat down and put my seat belt on. Adrian was still in his baby mood as he slumped in the seat in front of me.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Do you have orange juice?” I asked, suddenly having a weird craving for orange juice.

“I can get you a glass of freshly squeezed in ten minutes.”

“Thank you.”

And true to his word, he brought me a jug of it which I demolished in no time.

“You’re going to be sick,” said Adrian as I refilled the glass for one last time.

“What?”

“Orange juice on a hangover isn’t smart.”

I shrugged. “But I don’t have a hangover.”

Maybe he still did but mine was gone, probably because Darius made me drink heaps of water on the speedboat before I ended up dozing off with a full bladder.

“About time,” I said as Darius walked in, taking his coat off and handing it to the air hostess.

“You can tell him we’re ready,” he said.

She nodded before walking off and he sat down in front, sitting beside Adrian and shooting him a concerned look. “Sorry. Had to pick something up.”

“Want some?” I offered but he shook his head. I shrugged. Nothing beats freshly pressed orange juice.

“I want some more,” I said as the plane started moving.

“You had a whole litre,” said Adrian, looking at me from behind his magazine.

“But I want more.” For some reason, I just felt thirstier than before. Just like an angel, Simone came back with another jug, after the plane was safely in the air, without me even asking and I thanked him, leaning back and looking out the window.

“How long is it going to take us to get back to Melbourne?”

“Twenty one hours and twenty two minutes,” Darius answered as he took out his laptop from his bag. Of course, work.

“That’s a whole day,” I said. I wasn’t even sleepy to kill some time. Instead, for once I was wide awake and they both were being boring. One was reading a magazine and the other was working, as usual.

I sighed deeply and looked out the window before I got really bored. The only thing I could see was clouds, and these small clouds, big clouds, clouds everywhere.

I got up and walked toward the back where the kitchen surely was. What’s for breakfast?

“Mademoiselle,” said Simone, seeing me walk in and I waved.

“What are you making?”

“Are you hungry?”

I nodded, looking around the kitchen. It was small but modern, filled with a range of appliances and shockingly neat. It looked more like a small hotel kitchen than a in a commercial plane. Then again this was a private jet.

“What would you like to eat?”

“Can you make anything?”

“Yes.”

I was excited like a school kid as I walked around opening the fridge and pulling out ingredients. I was starving.

“Where did you get all that?”

I ignored Adrian as I pushed the trolley to a stop in the gap between my chairs and theirs and sat down looking at the feast Simone had cooked me.

“Mine,” I snapped as Adrian tried grabbing a piece of bacon.

I pulled out a plate and looked at all the food. Another jug of orange juice was sitting on the corner waiting to be drunk. There was a range of food, a plate with eggs and bacon and toast and a dish with chicken and mushroom pasta.

“That’s not fair. So that’s why you disappeared.”

I nodded. I killed four hours happily watching Simone cook and tasting all the other food I found. Who knew blue cheese actually tasted like crap?

Darius looked up from his laptop and I smiled as I stuffed my face with a piece of chicken. I was a happy child.

“I’ll be back,” he said and got up and I waved a hand. Take your time. I have food, which was a better company.

Adrian watched me with a frown, making me sigh. “Fine,” I told him. I hate being watched while I eat.

“Good to see you back to normal.”

I shrugged. There was no point dwelling over things. What happened, happened. He grabbed the plate of bacon, of course, and I smiled as his face lit up when he bit into one.

“Eat slowly,” I told him, pushing a glass of water his way. He was going to choke himself.

“Where’s Simone?” I asked as Adrian decided I had ‘enough’ to eat since he was my calorie counter and took away the food for himself. Not like I minded, but I wanted my orange juice. I tapped my fingers on the armrest, waiting for him to walk by.

Darius came back and sat down while I leaned over the arm rest looking down the corridor.

“Where’s Simone?”

“In the cockpit.”

I frowned. I didn’t know much about planes or jets but wasn’t he a server, not a pilot?

“I want more orange juice.”

Adrian waved his fork. “You’re going to throw up,” he said with his mouth full, and a piece of scrambled egg landed on Darius’s face.

“No, I’m not,” I said, sitting back in my chair and trying to hold back a laugh. I have a strong stomach.

And strong it was. Strong as a mentos in a bottle of coke.

“I told you.”

“Shut up.”

“I told you but no one listens to Adrian.”

I groaned as I hugged my new toy of the day, the toilet bowl.

“Darius,” I groaned. He was just standing there with his leg perched on the wall behind like he owned the place. Okay, maybe he did.

“Adrian, get out.”

“No, I told –”

The two bickering grown men exited the bathroom and I relaxed. Maybe two and a half litres of orange juice in the air was a bad idea.

And it didn’t help that they watched like it was some soccer match. Some privacy while you upchuck everything you ate in the past fourty-eight hours would have been nice.

I groaned and closed my eyes. Can someone tell the plane not to move so fast? It was like it wanted me to throw up.

“Are you feeling better now?”

I closed the bathroom door, turning around and shooting Darius a murderous look as he sat on the bed with a glass of orange juice.

“That’s not funny.”

“What’s not funny? I’m just thirsty,” he said before taking a sip. I rolled my eyes. I could still hear Adrian banging the door from outside and yelling ‘I told you so’.

“I’m never feeding him again.”

The guy was hyper already without bacon in his stomach.

“Sleep,” Darius said as he patted the bed.

“Not sleepy,” I said. I was more awake than the sun. Was that even possible? I’m never drinking again. No, I am never drinking orange juice after a night of drinking. Yes, that was better.

I was pretty sure alcohol would be the only thing that got me through parties.

“That’s a first.”

I looked at Darius, narrowing my eyes. “You know what you should do?”

“What?” he asked with an amused grin on his face.

“Drink a glass of Dairy.”

Everyone knows what happens when you drink orange juice and milk.

If you don’t: Orange = citrus. Milk = Dairy. Both make you throw up because citrus make milk break/split and makes you throw up.

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