THE glass sliding door in Muse and Adrien's wedding suite led to a private beach. White, silky sand that dripped between her fingers and clear, glistening turquoise waters. Muse had naturally taken this time to live out her Mamma Mia fantasies. 

     After finding the wedding dress and tux laid out on the bed, Muse had decided to get ready―though they wouldn't be married for hours yet. She'd given herself long, sharp cat-like eyeliner, in memory of her Egyptian mother, and dusted silver glitter powder onto her cheeks. Then she'd slipped on all her gold bracelets―enough on each arm that they clinked and rattled against each other, glittering under the white sun―and put on her dress.

     She hadn't picked the dress herself. It had been too stressful, in the end.

     She'd simply told Adrien, Surprise me. 

     The rule about not seeing the wedding dress before the wedding didn't apply, not if their marriage would be fake. And now, surveying the soft fabric draping the bed, Muse couldn't help but be glad she'd let Adrien choose. She would have never known to look for something this perfect.

      It was a simple dress. Soft fabric, like a night gown or a shift. It would ripple and flow in the summery breeze, not quite reaching her knees. Perfect for getting married in Greece.

      It was only mid-afternoon, but Muse tried it on anyway. What did she have to lose? Adrien hadn't arrived yet anyway.

      She was trying not to worry about that. Adrien would come.

      For now, she had the sea and the sand and her childhood dream to live out, of sprawling out on the shore and dancing ankle-deep in the water. Muse slid open the glass door. The first kiss of the sun on her face made her sigh.

       The sand beneath her bare feet stung. She broke into a run. Never in her life had she seen water this clear, this crystalline. It wasn't fully blue nor green, but more of a swirling mixture of the two. When she reached the precipice of the ocean, she had to take a pause. Had to breathe it in―the sea salt, the heat, the water. It tasted sweet in her mouth, on her tongue. She needed to be closer. To feel it. 

     She kneeled by the damp shoreline and laid her palm flat on the ground, waiting for the approach of the next aquamarine wave―

       "Muse?"

        She lost her balance. Falling backwards. Damp sand on her thighs and water, splashing all down her back and into her hair. Soaked. Rising to her, feet, spluttering―

       "Adrien?"

       Adrien blinked against the sunlight and dove towards her, trying to pull her out of the water. "I didn't mean to startle you―"

       "Oh, my wedding dress―" Muse grabbed Adrien's hand but slipped, dragging them both into the knee-deep current.

       "Your wedding dress―?" was all Adrien had time to say, before swallowing a mouthful of saltwater in the next wave.

       Flustered, laughing now, Muse said, "What a pair we make."

       With some effort, Adrien rose―bringing Muse along with her. In one swift movement, Muse was suddenly in Adrien's arms, bridal-style. The way she'd been carried that night they had dessert at the diner, pretending to be asleep after the ride to Adrien's apartment (slut hut). 

       Being held like this, in her wet wedding dress, on the shore of Greece in mid-afternoon, meant Muse had finally achieved her childhood dreams. She didn't think anything ever again would come close to being this romantic.

       And without meaning to, without thinking about it, Muse let her head rest against Adrien's chest. Cheek pressed to the white, short-sleeved blouse, as Adrien cleared the shoreline and stopped safely a few steps away. 

       Muse glimpsed Adrien's biceps, tensed from her grip on Muse, and glistening with ocean water and sunlight. That muscle definition . . . 

       Muse didn't realize her legs had tightened together a little, thinking of Adrien on the white sand, the veins standing out on her hands as she threw her head back and moaned, how those tattoos would look when she had no clothes on, and how Muse would make her come, over and over, sandy and sweaty and raw, until she was begging her to stop . . . 

       "About the wedding dress," Adrien said.

       "Hm?" That was a reality check.

       "There's something I should tell you. About my father."

       "Oh?" The visions of sex on the beach evaporated.

        Adrien set Muse down onto the sand. Muse felt the silk dress rippling against her thighs. 

        For a moment, Adrien's black eyes widened. So dark it was as if they consumed sunlight itself. The beach―the sand, the sea, the breeze―disappeared entirely. Muse lost herself in that stare.

       Then Adrien blinked. The conflicted look cleared. And a smile softened that sharp face of hers as she said, "I think my dad might not make it to the wedding."

      "What? Wasn't that the whole point? That he'd witness you turn into a wholesome, Catholic woman?"

      "I guess it's enough for him to know the wedding happened. Plus, everyone in his inner circle will be there. It's them he wanted to convince anyway."

      "Oh," Muse said. Trying to make sense of this. "Will anyone question why he's not there? I mean, your own dad is missing your wedding . . ."

      Adrien shrugged. "They'll blame it on health reasons, probably. Everyone knows about the diagnosis."

     "So the wedding is still on? As planned?"

     There was something off about Adrien's expression. Muse could usually read her, but now . . . it was almost as if Adrien had every single emotion purposefully on lockdown. Still, that soft smile tugged at her lips. Maybe Muse was overthinking. 

      "As planned," Adrien agreed, and kissed Muse gently on the mouth. "All the guests will be here soon. They're setting up the altar by the north beach, I think."

      Every worry evaporated from Muse's mind. She had been overthinking for sure. "Perfect. Are you excited to be my wife or what?"

      "Over the moon, really. Gonna be the best few months of my life, I'll bet."

      Few months. Muse didn't like the reminder that their marriage had a deadline. That none of this was real. But she kept her smile on, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss Adrien once more. "Too bad we can't give your dad the Christian grandchildren he wants, like Grey. If only you could get me pregnant for real."

      "Who says I can't?"

      "Oh, my bad. Do you have some kind of lesbian superpowers I don't know about?"

      A wicked fire lit Adrien's eyes. She smirked. "I just think if I tried hard enough . . ."

      Muse heard her heartbeat in her ears. Roaring so loudly it almost drowned out everything. The memory had risen up of Adrien on her knees before her with that same look in her eyes. It was a struggle to piece together words and say, "You want to baby-trap me so badly."

      "It's on my bucket list for sure."

      "Joke's on you. I'd marry you anyway." Muse knew it came across as a joke. But she couldn't help thinking of the grain of truth buried there. I'd marry you anyway. She was in love with someone who didn't love her back. She was fucking crazy.

      "Well," Adrien said. She cupped Muse's jaw, tilted her head up. Their eyes met, an unbreaking stare.

      Muse felt that familiar anger low in her stomach. Why did Adrien have to be so goddamn attractive? Her stupid pretty eyes and her stupid pretty smirk. It was pure torture. "Well?"

    "It's a good thing," Adrien continued, "we've got a wedding at four."

     "No baby necessary?"

     "No baby necessary. We could try anyways, though . . ."

     Muse laughed and shoved Adrien's chest. "I'm a devout, innocent woman. Stop trying to seduce me, Adrien. My virgin ears can't take it."

     Adrien grinned. "Sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me?"

     "Say five Hail Marys and I'll think about it."

     "For my future wife? Anything."

     Muse felt her cheeks slowly turning red at that. She stupidly hoped Adrien would think it was a sunburn. "Good."

     Adrien leaned down, lips parting slightly. Muse wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed her. It came so naturally for a moment that real fear pulsed in her veins. There was nobody around―no audience, nobody to convince. Purely professional felt like a distant memory. For Adrien, it was probably just practice for the wedding. But Muse knew she had really fucked up. 

     This could end in no other way but her own heartbreak now.

***

Enjoy.

From the moon and back,
Sarai