The perfect match

2

You were married for a total of sixteen hours and twenty nine minutes before your divorce was finalised. You didn't even know it could happen so quickly, but apparently, when you have money and everybody knows who you are, special treatment is a given.

Scarlett was no longer your wife, and you whilst you knew any sane person would have been relieved by that news, you couldn't seem to find any of that in you. You knew it was a mistake; that you were both shit faced drunk and it never should have happened, but she'd gotten rid of you like you were no more than a pile of dirt on the bottom of her shoe. There'd been a substantial weight on your chest ever since, and nothing you'd done had gotten rid of it.

But you'd said nothing. You'd return the ring, signed the paper work and you'd bid her a goodbye with no more than a wave. She'd smiled in return before disappearing behind the tinted window of her car, and that was that. Your spontaneous marriage with the words most famous actress was over.

Or well, so you'd thought.

The following evening, you were sat in your apartment with your four legged roommate -a husky named koda- watching the news and munching on a bowl of cereal. Your interest was peaked when you hear Scarlett's name, but you find yourself freezing in horror when you see yourself on the screen too. Well, it was just your body, and you were facing away from the camera, but it was definitely you and Scarlett was there too.

You were wrapped in one another's embrace, her arms around your waist and yours around her shoulders keeping her close.

"Scarlett Johansson was spotted in the early hours of the morning wrapped in the arms of a unknown woman," the presenter starts as the photo changes, and that's as all it takes for you to drop the cereal onto your lap.

You yelp when the milk absorbs into the material of your sweatpants, jumping to your feet and hastily brushing off as much as you could. But the damage was done. With a frustrated huff, you go to head upstairs to change. You were quickly stopped however, when you catch sight of the tv screen in your peripheral vision.

It was your face. Your face was staring right at you.

It was from this morning. You looked extremely hungover, and the hickeys that you'd apparently failed to cower up did not help your case. You blink in complete and utter horror as the presenter continues.

"Witnesses say the two couldn't look more in love if they tried. We've yet to find out the identity of the mystery woman, but it looks like..." you scramble for the tv remote and hastily turn off the tv.

"Oh my fucking god." You mutter, "She's fucked. I'm fucked. We're both fucked." You were panicking now, hastily searching for the phone you'd thrown onto the couch earlier this morning.

You find it eventually, buried beneath one of the large fluffy blankets and you couldn't help but swallow heavily when you were met with several missed calls. Most of them were from your mom, but two were from Scarlett.

How in the heck did she have your number? You run your hand anxiously through your hair as you press her contact and bring the phone to your ear. It rings for what seems like forever, and just when you think she wouldn't answer, you hear some shuffling on the other end of the line before her voice fills your ears.

"Y/n? It's Scarlett."

"I'm on the news." Was all you could bring yourself to say.

"I know," Scarlett mutters, and you were pretty sure had you been in her vicinity, you would have seen her roll her eyes. You refrain from voicing your retort to keep the conversation civil.

"It's a shit storm," she continues, and you nod in understanding even though she couldn't see you. "My publicist has been on my ass all day, and I've only just now gotten round to picking up my phone."

"You found out about the pictures before?" Your hands fumble with a loose thread on your sweatpants as your leg anxiously begins to bounce. Koda comes to sit at your feet and rests his head on your lap, and you lean down and kiss his head before running your hand through his fur.

"Yes, and I-"

You cut her off, feeling your heart beginning to race with what could only be described as panic, "And you only call to tell me after it's all over the freaking news? You couldn't have picked up your phone sooner?" Koda scoots his head closer with a quiet whine, and you force yourself to take a deep breath as you scratch the spot he likes behind his ear.

Yelling wouldn't get you anywhere, no matter how good it felt.

"Look, I'm sorry," She doesn't sound very sorry, "But todays been all over the place for various reasons. We managed to get rid of all of the pictures, but this one agency wouldn't play ball. We surpassed the time limit they gave us and now it's out for the world to see."

You sigh heavily as you watch Koda head back to his bed, seemingly now uninterested in what was going on now that you'd stopped stroking him. With one last look in his direction, you head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine from the fridge.

You didn't want to have this conversation sober. You didn't think you could even if you wanted to. You'd gone from being single, to married, to divorced, to being on the news all in the same day and it was kind of messing with your head.

After putting your phone on speaker and setting it down, you pour yourself a glass before putting it back in the fridge. To avoid the almost overwhelming temptation of downing the whole entire thing, you grab the tub of chocolate brownie ice cream from the freezer instead.

Yes. This is what you needed.

"What are we going to do?" You wonder as you hoist yourself up onto the counter, legs swinging aimlessly as you shovel up a large spoonful of the chocolate brownie ice cream and shove it into your mouth.

You hear her sigh as you swallow, "We both need to release a statement."

"Both of us?" You murmur, stuffing another large scoop into your mouth, "Why not just you? No one cares about me."

"They do now they know we've slept together." She retorts without hesitation, and you immediately choke on a chunk of brownie effectively spraying ice cream all over your white cabinets.

"What the fuck? How do they know that?" You splutter out, wiping your mouth with your sleeve as you slide off of the counter ro grab a clean wash cloth.

"We were seen going into a hotel together. We were seen coming out of that same hotel, together. Both looking worse for west and covered in hickeys. The same with the courthouse, tog-"

You once again cut her off, "Together. Yes. I get it." You grumble as you begin to furiously scrub at your chocolate covered cabinets. You knew they would stain, and you curse yourself again. "How soon can we get this statement out?"

"Tomorrow. I'll pick you up from your place and we'll go to the outset office. We can talk more there with my publicist."

You momentarily pause, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "The out what now?"

She chuckles, and it was a refreshing sound to hear after the events that had just taken place. "Never mind. Text me your address and I'll be there at seven."

You frown as you turn to face your phone, "As in pm?"

Please say yes. Please say yes.

"No,"

Fuck.

"As in AM."

"I'll text you my address," you begrudgingly mutter as you pick up your phone and bring it back to your ear. "See you tomorrow."

"See you."

When the dial tone fills your ears, you have to refrain from throwing your phone against the wall opposite just to feel the satisfaction of it breaking into pieces.

"Oh well, at least I still have you." You grab your partially melted ice cream and stuff as much as you could into your mouth.

Yummy chocolatey goodness.

**

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