“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be. I don’t know why I started crying. Stress, I guess.” She wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
“Nah. I’m an asshole.” I fill the kettle with water and turn the stove on.
“Yes, he’s an asshole. Let me finish dinner. Leo will get you tea, and once we’ve eaten, we’ll tackle this problem,” Sol suggests.
“By marrying her off to some random guy in your Sociology class who you think is good? He could be a serial killer, and since your parents died over two months ago, your time is about up, right?”
“I have a few days,” Tinsley says quietly.
It’s a good thing the kettle is made out of stainless steel or I would’ve busted the handle off. A few days to find someone trustworthy to marry?
“He speaks up about women’s issues and has a sister,” Sol says defensively. “Isn’t that right, Tins?”
“She’s right. He does seem nice.”
“That’s what people said about Jeffrey Dahmer.” I slam the cupboard door shut, and it bangs loudly as the wood strikes wood.
“No one knows who that is.”
“He’s a serial killer,” volunteers Tinsley. When we both look over at her, she shrugs lightly. “I watched a Netflix special on it. According to his neighbors, he was quiet, shy, and lonely.”
Sol grimaces. “I don’t think Kent is exactly shy or lonely or quiet, but okay, maybe you have a point. We need someone you know and trust. Someone who will marry you for a price and divorce you quietly.”
Something bothers me. “I don’t get why you have to marry anyone in the first place. Can’t you hire a lawyer to get you out of this will thing?”
“I could, but litigation would take far longer than six months, and if the court ruled against me then I’d be screwed, so the safest thing is to marry. But once I tie the knot, I’m afraid they will take everything. Maybe I shouldn’t be so worried about that. Like I have way more than I need.” She worries her bottom lip.
“Fuck that. It’s yours, and your parents meant for it to be yours.”
“Don’t curse at Tinsley,” chides Sol. “How about I marry you? It’s legal in New York.”
The kettle whistles, and I get to making the tea. Sol’s idea sounds good on the surface, so why do I not like it?
“That’s an idea.” Tinsley is intrigued by this. “I don’t think the will stipulates that I have to marry any particular gender.”
“See? I told you we just needed to think this through.”
I stir the honey into the mug with the chamomile tea bag and try to ignore the irritation that’s mounting inside. Even Sol shouldn’t be marrying Tinsley. Tinsley should remain single for…as long as she can is all I allow myself.
“I’ll pay you,” Tinsley says. “Like a monthly allowance.”
“Cool. But you don’t have to.”
“And you’ll need to move into my brownstone.”
“Sure. I love your place.”
“Maybe you should come too?” Tinsley says to me.
I plunk down the mug of tea and scowl. “No. I’m staying here.”
Tinsley’s bright light winks out as she curls her hands around the mug and shrinks back in her chair. “Right. Of course you will stay here.”
Living under the same roof as her would kill me. I’d never be able to keep my dirty hands off her. Even now I itch to touch her. Ache with the need. She’s so damn tempting.
Sol muscles me to the side and places the enchiladas on the table. “We wouldn’t want him around anyway. He’s a stick in the mud and would always be telling us what to do and what not to do all the while sneaking around doing illegal fighting that could permanently damage his brain.”
She shoves a plate in my gut. “Go and eat in your bedroom if you’re going to be raining on our parade here.”
I take the plate and sit down next to Tinsley, completely ignoring Sol’s suggestion. The two don’t care. They’re busy making plans. Tinsley will call her lawyer in the morning while Sol will go down to City Hall to find out what the requirements are for marrying someone.
“I’ll go with you,” I say. It’s not like the city is dangerous, but I’ve got nothing better to do, and I don’t like the idea of my sister running around by herself. She’s young and pretty, and that alone makes her a target. Same with Tinsley, but she’s hiding away in her brownstone, which has to be a safe place.
Sol wrinkles her nose in dislike but then says, “Fine. I guess it’s better than going alone.”
After Sol gets the paperwork, they’ll meet up at the brownstone.
“Why don’t I hire the justice of the peace?” suggests Tinsley. “I’m sure my lawyer knows someone who can marry us.”
“Perfect.” The girls high five. “I have class until two so we should be up at your place around 6?”