Page 11 of Married in Michigan

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

“Fuck.” He snarls under his breath, a vicious, feral, curse-laden sound. “How am I supposed to find someone to marry me in four months?”

“We’ve arranged a…fallback.”

“Oh no. No way.”

“Yes.”

“Hellno.”

“Cecily Amador-Richards is a beautiful, successful, intelligent young woman of impeccable breeding. She would make an excellent wife to an up-and-coming senator…and an invaluable asset for someone considering an eventual run for…say…the Oval Office.”

“Mother.” His voice is venomous. “I wouldn’t marry that fucking snake of an ice-cold bitch if she were the last woman on earth.”

“That’s a little excessive, Paxton.”

“It’s nowhere even close to capturing how much I despise her, Mother.”

“You’re harboring a grudge, Paxton. Let bygones be bygones.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea what happened, and I’m not about to tell you, but let’s just say I wouldn’t touch her with a twenty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole. And I would wager a case of Rolexes that she feels the same way.”

“Then you owe me a case of Rolexes.” I hear a rustling of paper, and risk another quick glance to see Camilla withdrawing a folded letter from her purse. “In her own hand, signed, sealed, and delivered.”

“No one seals letters anymore.”

Yet, another stolen glance tells me the letter is indeed sealed with wax. I’ve finished the window, and move on to the next one—farther away, so I have to listen even harder; this is better entertainment thanReal Housewives.

There are a few moments of silence as Paxton reads.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Must you be so vulgar, Paxton? I know I raised you better than that.”

“Oh please, Mother. Boarding academy and military school raised me, not you.”

“Now, now, Paxton, let’s not bring up that old warhorse of an argument.”

“How the hell did you all convince Cecily to agree to this?”

“It’s a perfect match, that’s all. Anyone can see how you two are made for each other.”

“Meaning, her family is holding her inheritance over her head, too.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what agreement she’s made with her parents. I know she was…reticent, at first, but she’s come around.” A significant pause. “As will you.”

“You make a good case for a vow of poverty, if not celibacy, Mother.”

“Oh, come now, Paxton. It can’t bethatbad.”

“She fucked my best friend inmybedonmyboat, onourthree-yearanniversary.”

“You cannot claim innocence on that score, Paxton. I know this for a fact.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t sleep with her best friend, and I didn’t do it for all-access passes to Coachella.”

“You’re making that up.”