Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
What’s a little marriage of convenience between best friends?
I’ve always worked hard to keep the friendship line firmly in place when it comes to Eric. I’m gay, and he’s straight. We’re best friends and nothing more. But he’s my person, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Which is why when I find out he’s struggling financially and doesn’t have medical insurance, I blurt out six friendship-altering words: I want you to marry me.
Eric
Donovan’s my best friend, the most important person in my life… And he wants to marry me.
Okay, so maybe I haven’t made the best decisions lately. I took a job with no health insurance and no guaranteed money, which was working out fine, if not for the whole getting-injured-and-fired thing. But Donovan has come up with a solution. Marriage. Living together. There’s a small chance we’re a tad codependent, but I always want to be with him, so signing a marriage license shouldn’t really change much. Until the kissing starts…and the touching…and the exploring… And all I know is, I want more. So much more from my husband.
Playing pretend with Donovan is the realest thing I’ve ever felt, and though divorce was the ultimate plan, I’m not sure I want this to end.
Content Warning: MC without medical insurance, discussion on the risks of not having medical insurance, discussion about losing a parent to cancer (in the past).
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
Donovan
Fourteen years old
I wake up in the morning with my body betraying me. I ache all over, my joints an uncomfortable combination of pain, burning, and throbbing.
Of course I’d have a flare-up of my JIA today. Sometimes I think juvenile idiopathic arthritis wants to ruin my life. Not that I have much of a life, and while some of that can be blamed on my JIA, it doesn’t take all the credit.
I’m…well, not the most popular, or the coolest, or a million other things. If it wasn’t for my best friend Eric, I’m not sure I would have a life outside of my parents.
I don’t understand why he puts up with me, why he likes to spend time with me, when I’m…me. The nerdy guy who’s too small for his age, whom everyone told he’s gay before he ever had the chance to work it out himself—not that I’ve verbalized it out loud to anyone yet, not even to Eric.
He’s the polar opposite of me in every way—outgoing, liked by everyone, athletic—and yet, he chooses me. He’s always by my side, always got my back, even on days like today when I’ll have to let him down because I can’t go out.
On his fifteenth birthday.
Go me.
Greatest Best Friend Ever award goes to…
I know I should try to do some of my stretches, try to work on the things I learn in physical therapy, but sometimes I just don’t have the energy. I’m so tired of dealing with this. It’s not fair that I have so many things to deal with. Not only my illness, but missing out on typical kid stuff, and my family’s struggles, and oh, let’s not forget because it bears repeating, being a huge nerd.
We keep a small fridge by my bed, and I wince as I reach over, grab some water, and take my medication. My body screams at me, and I know it will be even worse when I have to get up in a little while to go to the bathroom.
My parents are at work. They have to work so hard to make ends meet, and sometimes even that isn’t enough. Especially because of my medical bills. They don’t know that I hear them talking sometimes, worrying about costs, complaining about how bad our coverage is, wondering how they’ll make it all work.
My eyes pool with tears at the thought, but I swat them away, then take my time, forcing myself to sit on the edge of the bed, while my hips, knees, ankles, and feet feel like someone is trying to rip them from my body.
I ignore the walker because it makes me sad to use it, and I shuffle slowly to the bathroom. It takes everything in me to make it there, pee, wash my hands, and get back to bed, and when I slump there, I feel like I just ran twenty miles.
I wince when my phone rings, knowing without looking that it’s Eric. Part of me wants to ignore it, but I know him. If I don’t answer, he’ll keep calling or show up, and I don’t want to ruin his birthday even more. But then, maybe it’s better that I won’t be there. It’s always awkward when I’m around Eric’s other friends. There’s no doubt in my mind they all wonder why he likes me. Why he insists on bringing me to everything they do.
“Happy birthday!” I say into the phone, trying not to sound like I’m in as much pain as I’m in. Sometimes it’s debilitating, and I just lie around and cry.
“What’s wrong?” Eric asks, and my heart drops.
“What? Nothing. I’m fine!” I’m not sure how I plan to play that off, considering I’m about to tell him I can’t come over for his birthday. Sometimes it’s a pain in the butt to have someone who knows me so well.
“Are you sure? You sound off.”
“I said I’m fine,” I snap, then immediately feel guilty. He just wants to help, and he does, but sometimes I feel helpless, and that sucks. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“What time do you want my mom to come get you?” He lives only a few blocks away, and while exercise is good for me, he doesn’t want me to have to walk and then be at his party all day. Depending on how I’m doing, my body can get achy easily. “I want you to get here before everyone else.”
Guilt covers me like a too heavy blanket during a heat wave.
“I, um…I won’t be able to come to your party. I can hardly move today.” And I don’t like people to see me when I feel this way. Outside my family and medical team, it’s mostly only Eric or his mom who have.
“Oh. It’s okay, D. Maybe I can cancel my party and come there instead. We can—”