In Drunken Matrimony ✔️

Nine - The Supermarket Celebrities

Hᴀʟʟɪᴇ

"Come on Hal, let's take a break." Oliver moans, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. We've hardly been at it for an hour.

After Bella and Lib left yesterday, training with Oliver ensued. We didn't get very far, what with him complaining that he was tired and hungry every few minutes, and so we decided to postpone the session to the following day. A whole lot of good that has done us. Frankly, I'd say it's impossible for him to even feign interest and dedication. He finds distractions in the littlest of things, whether it be the contemporary twist of the silver steel light fitting or the age lines in the oak wood table top, and such has even rendered me ready to give up. Nevertheless, I persist.

It's simple - I've found pictures of my relatives, had them printed and scrawled their names and important facts on the back. Flash cards, one might call them, used in revision to ace the act of our harmonious drunken matrimony.

In fairness to Oliver, today it started fairly well. Obviously, he already knows Helena, what with the rather distasteful appearance yesterday when she threw a fit in my foyer along with seeing her picture stapled to every billboard and magazine cover. Now he knows her fiancé; though that, as it has done so many times before, could change fairly quickly. He knows my mother and father, and my two Aunties on my father's side, and uncle - mum's brother.

His attention span hasn't existed longer that cousins, and now, as I show him pictures of aunties that aren't really aunties, and family friends and in-laws ties to my other relatives, he's really lost all concentration.

"Oliver, you need to know this stuff." I try to insist, but I can already tell my pleads fall on deaf ears.

"I know, and I promise, I'll revise later." He pushes the pictures away and slouches in the dining chair dramatically, as if the task has physically exhausted him. "I'm starving."

"You always seem to be." I mutter to him. He saunters to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards, drawers, fridge and pantry, mumbling something about how he's seen less vegetables in a greenhouse. "What exactly are you looking for?" I decide to query, exasperated with his hardly coherent grumbles.

He peers around the kitchen to look at me. "Where's all the good stuff?" He asks instead and I raise a confused brow. "You know, like frozen nuggets. Pizzas. Sweets and chocolates. Crisps, beer, ice cream, burgers? Where is it?"

"I don't eat that sort of stuff." I reply with a shrug. He looks at me as if I'm insane.

"Well, I do. So, come on." I watch him disappear around the corner, his footsteps carrying towards the foyer. "We're going shopping."

"With what money?" I call out.

"As I recall, this is an 'all expenses paid' extravaganza?" I frown, though he can't see me. "Come on Hallie - our first little couple outing." He jokes, and I can practically hear the shit-eating grin that resides on his face. Reluctantly, I stand, meeting him in the foyer and pulling on my jacket and boots, scowling as I swipe the car keys from the table.

"We can't go to a regular shop. The paparazzi are still too obsessive." He only shrugs.

"So? If this was real, we'd compromise. You'd shop at the cheap supermarkets, and I'd wear designer suits." I raise a brow at his claim. "Come on. Let them get their picture; they're not going to back off until they do and besides, your sister can't get any more pissed at you."

"Ugh, fine! Fine." I huff, more so at the victorious grin that plagues his face. "You don't engage with them though Oliver. No answering questions, no flirting with the women. Nothing."