We'll See

The day after the wedding

The world was bright, and she knew that when she opened her eyes it was only going to get brighter. Her head hurt with that ache that can only mean too much alcohol and not enough sleep, and she severely hoped that whatever she smelt wasn’t something dead.

Laura forced her eyes open and was rewarded with the view of a white ceiling and the full force of her regret. She then became aware of the other body in her bed, and threw herself across the hotel room, wrapping the sheet around her as she did so, leaving a very naked stranger to groan against her pillow. A bare back faced Laura from the sheet, which meant that as the stranger was turning around she would see...

"Fuck." Laura turned her eyes back to the ceiling.

The stranger opened one eye and observed Laura, now wrapped in the king sized sheet and determinedly looking anywhere but the bed. "Hello."

"What happened last night?"

"Well my memories a bit fuzzy, but I can hazard a guess based on context."

"You're naked."

"While you are wearing that very fetching sheet."

"Can you not be naked?"

"You're standing by where I keep my clothes."

"The desk chair?"

"That’s the one."

Laura blindly picked up whatever she first grabbed and threw it at the stranger, quickly becoming aware that this wasn't her hotel room.

She swore again, which just earned her an even wider grin.

"Relax, cupcake." She seemed to be having far too much fun watching Laura look anywhere that wasn’t in the vicinity of the bed. "These things happen. And anyway, I’m pretty sure I know you from somewhere, so it’s not like you spent a night of debauchery in Vegas with a complete stranger."

"How are those clothes coming along?"

"All put on, thanks for asking."

Finally removing her eyes from the ceiling, Laura found she did recognise whoever was in her bed.

"You're Perry's friend."

"Carmilla. And you're Laf's."

Laura nodded.

"As I said, not complete strangers then."

"Can I take a pick from your clothes chair?"

"Go right ahead."

"If you don't turn away while I change you're going off the balcony."

Carmilla chuckled and directed her grin to the ceiling.

"I'm going to go," Laura said.

"So soon?"

"This is weird."

"You looked better in the sheet."

Laura made no response as she left, just an ineffective glare that made Carmilla laugh. The laughing only increased when she looked at her left hand, and she nearly fell off the bed when Laura burst back in, looking at the own hand like it was on fire

For the third time within fifteen minutes, Laura loudly swore.

//

"I can't believe you're going to be living in the same city as me."

"Perry's firm offered me a contract. That's why we were here in the first place."

"I can't believe we got married."

"You're going to great lengths to dispute things that are true."

"And now you're in the same city."

"I like to think of it as fate."

"Or karmic punishment."

"Now is that any way to talk to your wife?"

"We're going to a divorce lawyer as soon as we get back."

"Whatever you say, shnookums."

"I hate you so much."

"Now we sound like we're married."

//

Eleven months and twenty seven days until divorce

“Twelve months.”

Laura stormed ahead, leaving Carmilla to slouch behind her. She was grinning widely, even taking the time to nod pleasantly at strangers, an exercise she never normally bothered with.

“Eleven months and twenty seven days.”

“It’s a year.”

“Nearly a year.”

Laura rounded on her, and Carmilla stopped, the grin never fading.

“Why did you tell him we consummated the marriage?”

“Can’t lie to a judge, cupcake.”

“But did you have to say it was the best thing since sliced bread?”

“I was talking about the prostitute. Take the compliment.”

“We can get divorced in twelve months.”

“We’ll see,”

Laura narrowed her eyes dangerously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you still want to divorce me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”

“That sounds creepy.”

“I’m going to gently coerce you to fall in love with me.”

“I don’t know how anyone could fall in love with you.”

“That’s what my mother said. And now look at me. Married to a beautiful woman.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“We get divorced in eleven months and twenty seven days.”

“We’ll see.”

“Stop saying that.”

Laura flounced on ahead, and Carmilla watched her go, only smiling more when she flipped her off over her shoulder.

//

Eleven months and twenty five days

Carmilla waited for her friends’ laughter to die down. She had expected this from Danny and Kirsch, but the fact that Perry was joining in made her scowl.

“Can you stop,” she complained, as it became evident that they had no intention of doing so.

“Sorry.” Danny didn’t sound even remotely sorry. “It’s just the idea of you. Married.”

“Why do I even put up with you two?”

“Because they give us free alcohol?” offered Perry.

Carmilla clicked her fingers. “That’s it.”

The four of them were in the bar Danny and Kirsch owned. It was after closing, so empty, and they had enough whisky on the table to keep them occupied for the evening. An innocent question of “So what’s new, Karnstein?” had caused Carmilla to reveal her new marriage, and her friends had yet to stop laughing.

“Dude, how did this even happen?”

“Good question, Kirsch.” Carmilla turned to glare at Perry, who held up her hands in innocence.

“When I asked if you wanted to come to Vegas with me and Lafontaine and their friend, I didn’t expect you to marry her.” Perry had discovered about her friends accidental marriage by Laura’s frantic knocking on her and Lafontaine’s door. Carmilla’s laughter could be heard in the distance.

“Did you ask or did she?”

“I don’t know, Danny, that’s the problem with tequila.”

“And now you have to wait a year.”

The laughter was back, and Carmilla was resolutely avoiding Perry’s eye. Apparently ‘accidently’ sabotaging their plea for divorce didn’t impress her friend.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Kirsch

“Yes, Carmilla.” Carmilla focused on the bottle of whiskey, ignoring Perry. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to woo her. Danny I swear if you don’t stop laughing I’m using the whiskey bottle on you.”

//

“This is a disaster.”

Laf smiled at Laura flopping herself down on their couch, covering her eyes with her arm.

“At least you’re not being dramatic.” They dodged a throw pillow launched their way. “I think there’s a valuable lesson to be learned here.”

“I hate you.”

“I didn’t know, when you said you were going to spend time with Carmilla, that you meant the rest of your life.”

“Laf, please.”

“Oh it’s not that bad. You don’t have to technically do anything.”

“But I’ll be married.”

“Yes.”

“To her.”

“She’s rich.” Lafontaine offered.

“For a year.”

“It’s not that long.”

Laura groaned again.

“I blame you.”

“I blame tequila.”

“How rich are we talking?”

“You know those pricks on those rich kid shows with the yachts and the parties?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That rich?”

“And half of it’s yours.”

Lafontaine laughed as another pillow was thrown their way and Laura tried to smother herself with the sofa.

//

Eleven months and nineteen days

A knocking at the door woke Laura. She checked the bed next to her for strangers, as she had taken to doing the last few weeks, and, satisfied she hadn't made another mistake, she dragged herself to her apartment door.

Carmilla's smirk greeted her when she opened it, accompanied by a brown paper bag held aloft. Laura closed the door instantly.

"I brought breakfast." Carmilla’s smugness apparently transcended closed doors.

"Go away, Carmilla."

"I didn't get coffee, because I figured you'd have some, but I did get a variety if pastries."

"Please."

"I figured you would go for something sugary, but since you never did stay for breakfast after our wedding night, I had to guess what else it is you eat."

Laura threw open the door, hoping the neighbours were kind enough to not eavesdrop.

"Are you going to hang around until I let you in?"

"Yep."

Laura closed the door. Carmilla grinned wider, sinking to the floor next to the door and opening the bag.

"So I got croissants, the lady at the bakery said almond is all the range these days, but I don't know if she was lying." Her voice travelled to where Laura was standing by the kitchen counter, trying to ignore it. "I also got some pastry things filled with cream and chocolate on the top that I don't know the name of."

"Eclairs."

"Who's Claire?"

"Carmilla I swear..."

Carmilla continued. "I have four donuts of different flavours, partly because I don't know what you'd like, and also because they were four for two, so technically I'm saving money."

The door flew open and she looked up to see Laura glaring down at her. "If I let you in will you shut up?"

"Probably not."

Laura huffed, but stepped away from the door. Carmilla followed her inside, placing the bag on the kitchen counter and taking a seat.

"Got any coffee?"

"Why are you doing this?" Laura moved to the kitchen.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, or so I hear."

"Carmilla."

"I told you, I'm going to make you fall in love with me."

"I'm not going to do that."

"We'll see."

//

Eleven months and thirteen days

"Do you have any fears?"

"What?"

"Fears, cupcake. Things you're afraid of."

"Why?"

"It’s called small talk."

"Clowns. Geese. When candles burn too close to the end."

"Seriously?"

"It makes me nervous. Stop laughing."

"Aren't you going to ask about my fears?"

"Carmilla, do you have any fears?"

"Small spaces. Loud noises. That you won’t fall in love with me in eleven months and thirteen days."

"Smooth."

"Thanks."

//

Ten months and twenty two days

To Carmilla's delight and Laura's anguish, they developed a routine. Carmilla would arrive at Laura's door in the morning with breakfast, and Laura would be forced to eat it with her, or else treat the neighbours to Carmilla carrying a conversation with herself from the hallway. After bringing the pastries, Carmilla invested in things she deemed healthy, as she "didn't want to be responsible for you developing some form of scurvy". Bran flakes and fruit didn't help Carmilla integrate herself into Laura's good favours.

"You know," said Carmilla one morning, in a tone that Laura knew meant she was in for a conversation, "I don’t know that much about you."

"That's not an accident."

"Tell me about your parents. My in-laws. Our family."

"Stop it."

It was the smirk, Laura had decided a while ago. She was sure some found it charming, and it fast became apparent Laura was not one of them.

"You're cocky." Laura had told her once.

"I'm confident. Endearing, is it not?”

Laura had decided that no, it wasn't

She sighed as she took her place opposite Carmilla on the kitchen counter and gave her the coffee, skilfully ignoring any domesticity this presented.

"Why?" she asked.

"Do you remember me telling you about small talk?"

"You don't seem the type for small talk. You read Camus and quote Aristotle. It’s pretentious."

"Maybe I'm making an exception."

Laura studied her, with that damn smirk and those damn eyes. Sometimes she wished her wife didn't look how she did. Thank god her personality put her off so much.

"My mom left when I was twelve. I don't know why, I was waiting for her to pick me up from school and she just never showed. All her stuff was gone by the time my dad picked me up. It's been the two of us ever since. Which is fine. More than fine. I mean sometimes I wish there was more, but I wouldn't change it for the world. He's great, a little protective, but that's understandable. I would rather a parent who cared too much then one who didn't care at all, you know."

Carmilla did, being intimately acquainted with the latter. She waited to see if Laura would speak again.

"He calls every other day, and visits when he can. If anything happens in his day, anything even remotely small, I'm the first person he tells. I miss my mom, but if she didn't want us then that's fine."

Carmilla waited a beat, but it seemed she was done.

"Wow, cupcake, I think that’s the most words you've ever said to me."

Laura shrugged and busied herself with an orange.

"And your parents?" she relented, when the silence dragged on.

"Not much to tell. My father died when I was four, don't remember him too much. My mother is less than nice. But I'm rich."

"You've mentioned that."

"It's one of my selling points."

"Your mother," Laura prompted.

The smirk became more solemn, causing Laura to pay attention.

"I learnt from very young that my mother is either incapable of love, or didn't feel like extending it to me."

"Carm..."

"My tragic backstory is not one of my selling points, cupcake, so don't feel too sorry for me. I have two siblings, and we loved each other. I wasn't lonely. Sad, but not lonely."

"And now?"

"Now what."

"Are you sad?"

"To not have felt pain is to not have been human."

"See. Pretentious. And not an answer."

"Now you see why I'm such a good lawyer."

"Carmilla."

"Have you told your dad that you're a married woman?"

Laura noted the swift conversation change and went with it.

"God no."

"You think you can keep it secret for a year?"

Laura narrowed her eyes. The smirk was back and distant look in her eyes was gone, and that did not make Laura feel comfortable.

"Don't you dare do anything."

"Like what? Get Perry to find out from Lafontaine that he's going to visiting in eight days, so plan on coming over unannounced to introduce myself, your wife, to your dad, my father-in-law."

"Ten months and twenty two days."

"We'll see."

//

Ten months and fifteen days

“Perry, please do this for me.”

“I’m not comfortable with this, Carmilla. And you said you needed me for an emergency.”

“This is my wife we’re talking about.”

Carmilla leaned towards her friend, hands splayed on the desk, but Perry just looked doubtful.

“Just ask Laf where Laura is taking her father for dinner tomorrow. Please.”

“Why can’t you find out yourself?”

“Because I may have exposed my plan and now she’s taking him to some restaurant and she won’t tell me which one.”

“Carmilla, why are you doing this?”

Carmilla sighed. That was a question that cropped up a lot recently. Especially from Laura, who, for all her protesting, Carmilla had noticed with fervent hope, had yet to completely dismiss Carmilla from her life.

“I still have ten months. It’s a working progress, but if I get in with the dad she obviously adores, I’ll be further there.”

“There being?”

“Laura not divorcing me.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Another question Laura had asked her. Carmilla could have told her it was because she found Laura captivating, and fascinating, and wanted to spend as much time with her as possible that wasn’t obsessive. Instead she had just grinned, and Laura had huffed.

“You know, the list of people I can stand to spend and extended amount of time with had three names on. Two of them are related to me, and the other one is you. Now there are four, and Lafontaine is really close to making it as well.”

“They’ll be thrilled.”

“Use it as a way to get them to tell you.”

“Carmilla.”

“I honestly believe she’ll fall for me. And this isn’t just me being cocky.”

“You know you can’t sleep with anyone else if you want to stay married.”

“I can give celibacy a whirl.”

“This is all very unlike you.”

Perry was concerned about her friend, but in all honesty that wasn’t anything new. Ever since college she seemed to spent a great portion of her time worried about Carmilla.

“Fine. I’ll ask.”

“You’re the best.”

“I feel like I’m deceiving them.”

“We’re lawyers, if we didn’t deceive people we’d be out of a job.”

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I said I would like it if you worked here.”

Carmilla grinned broadly. “As I keep saying. It’s fate.”

//

“It’s insufferable.”

“I get it, but it’s not the plates fault. You’re gonna break it if you keep stabbing it like that.”

Laura paused before she could spear the pancake, catching Lafontaine’s amused look at her distress.

“I’m not sensing the waves of sympathy I should feel from my best friend.”

“That’s because I have no sympathy to give you.”

Lafontaine had found it hilarious that she had married their girlfriend’s best friend, and seeing Laura so wound up only increased this. Perry had found it less funny, seemingly concerned for the effect it may have on Carmilla, but Lafontaine still couldn’t shake the image of Laura, open mouthed, staring at her left hand like she didn’t recognise it.

“It’s every day, Laf. Every morning she just shows up, with her stupid smirk and her stupid eyes and the stupid attempt at making me eat at least slightly healthy.”

“What wrong with her eyes?”

“Nothing. That’s part of the problem.”

“What?”

“How could you let me do this?”

Blame for the impulsive marriage had been shifted, briefly, onto Lafontaine before they had politely reminded Laura that they could never distract her from an idea when she was sober, never mind after five hours of tequila.

“She brings you free breakfasts and walks you to work, I’m not seeing the reason for all the huffing. Look, I know Carmilla can be a bit snarky, and sarcastic, and occasionally – very occasionally – a huge asshole. But she’s not that bad.”

“You’re saying I should, what, go along with it and see if she can complete this stupid goal of making me fall in love with her?”

“I’m saying maybe chill a bit. She brings you pastries and fruit, she doesn’t leave figurines of herself made out of your hair.”

“Gross.”

“Have you ever asked her to stop?”

Laura paused her desecration of the pancakes and crockery. “What?”

“Have you ever asked her to not bring you breakfast? In the past month and a half this had been happening.”

In truth she hadn’t, but that was going to the part of her brain that also wondered why she had coffee ready for when Carmilla arrived. It’s not like she hadn’t hinted to it, in an indirect, thinly veiled kind of way, but just never said the words.

“She seems set on doing it.”

“She’d stop.” Lafontaine watched their friend carefully, Laura now frozen mid-spear.

“You think so?”

“Know for a fact. If you told her you didn’t want her to come, she wouldn’t.”

Laura thought about this. Mornings back to herself. No Carmilla, with her smirk and eyes and concern about Laura’s wellbeing.

“All I have to do is ask.”

“Communication is key in a marriage.”

“Don’t make me hate you.”

//

“Does this usually work for you?”

“What?”

“The smirk and the lines and the eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Your eyes.”

“Usually.”

“Must be how you tricked me into marrying you.”

“Pretty sure you asked me, cupcake.”

“Nu-huh.”

“Nice argument.”

“You definitely asked me.”

“Do I strike you as the type to marry? What with my smirk and my lines and my eyes.”