Page 8 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

When I dropped him off at his hotel after coffee, he asked me to wait. When he came back, he was carrying two stacks of cash. Just two stacks ofhundreds, like it was five dollars. Chump change.

“For anything you might need…for the wedding,”was all he said. What could I possibly need that would take that much money?

As impossible as it felt to accept, I did because that was his show of good faith. That he would hold up his end of the bargain if I did, too.

His requirements for the marriage were fairly simple: Live with him. Show up at family functions and work events with him. And I would go back to school.

My requirement was that he pay me. Not that I made that demand, but he insisted.

Fairly Simple.Clean cut, right?I hope.

Yawning, I take another sip of my overly sweet, now cold latte and make a quick mental to-do list:

Pack.

Find a wedding dress. (Not a real one. I’m not insane, but a simple white dress. Maybe even pale pink?)

Make a deposit at the bank.

Cat nap. (Hopefully.)

Give Roni her farewell gift.

Meet Alexander to obtain the marriage license.

Get married.

Just a regular, run-of-the-mill Thursday. My turning stomach has me absentmindedly rubbing at my abdomen like that’ll make it go away.I’m getting married.To a complete stranger. Who could very well be in the human skin trade or maybe plans to harvest my organs. He could be a serial killer. He could be…any number of entirely unsavory and predatory things.

But no matter what awful scenario I think of, my instincts are telling me:It’s okay. It’s fine.Usually, men — even worse if they’re attractive — make me uncomfortable. I struggle to be normal or even-keeled when they’re around. But with Alexander, I just…don’t. It’s not a struggle.