In Drunken Matrimony ✔️

Four - A Fisherman And His Prized Catch

Posting today because it's Euros final tomorrow and my focus will 100% on the game.
Come on England! 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

Oʟɪᴠᴇʀ

It was her. Most definitely.

I knew that there was a familiarity in her. A face you know you've seen before but can't quite pin point where.

When Zach had shoved his phone screen in my face, I had recognised her immediately. Sure, she was dressed slightly more business like, classy with the perfect blend of feminine, and she had a moody frown like someone had just shit on her brand new carpet, but it was her. I'd recognise those legs anywhere.

The silence on the phone stretches for a concerning amount of time, and the only thing that assures me of her lasting company is the occasional scuffle or shaky breath. While she composes herself, I take the time to skim over the article I have pulled up on the laptop.

It must be a picture from today - it claims she was 'spotted' in Britain, accompanying her sister to a modelling shoot. It can't have been yesterday; she was still in Las Vegas then, giving me a headache over the phone because of my 'consistent puerility'. The devil works hard, but tabloids work harder.

The headline lacks taste, suggesting Hallie is only smart, and her sister is only beautiful. Frankly, in this picture, Hallie looks quite the ten out of ten and I find myself patting my back in congratulations for managing to marry such a looker. Perfect attire, a natural tan and gentle makeup, wheat curls similar to the night we had met caught in the soft clutches of the breeze. I might even go as far as to say she's got something about her that her sister lacks, I just can't decide what.

Finally, she gulps, then speaks. "It isn't my company." She claims lamely.

I lift a brow, scanning my finger over the text before me. "I beg to differ sweetheart. It says here: 'Hallie Evans, heir to Evan's incorporate, the multi-million stock company that boomed less than a decade ago, accompanies her sister, the newcomer model Helena Evans who has claimed the world by storm, to a photo shoot this evening in London.' So, you're famous, famous? Like Kardashian - Jenner famous?"

"No one is that famous." She mumbles miserably, as if that is the part of this conversation which is important. She falls silent again, and I realise then she must have this very same article in front of her. Or, at least I assume. I know that's what I do in her position. "How much?"

I frown. "What?"

With a sigh, she expands. "How much money do you want so I can stop you from going to the tabloids?"

I slap a hand to my chest, feigning heartache as if she can see me do so. "Hallie! Do you know me but at all?"

"No. I don't. That's the problem." She doesn't sound amused.

"I'm not going to go to the papers." She sighs in what I think is relief. "Especially since your not proudly wearing your wedding ring. How embarrassing would that be for me?" She almost laughs and I allow myself to smile too.

So, it seems her rush for annulment comes from the fact she can't have our impromptu marriage going public. Momentarily, I feel guilty for stressing her out, but then I remember how funny it was and feel better. Still, I don't think I'm much the problem right now.

"Aren't you worried someone will have seen us?" I ask her.

"Hm?" She replies halfheartedly.

"In Vegas," I go on to add. "Not everyone was as drunk as we were. Someone's bound to recognise you. Even I knew I'd seen you somewhere before." She doesn't speak, mulling over the point I have made, a particularly valid one too, I might say.