He seemed restless, and not simply because of the junkyard chic vibe we had going here. His shoulders were tight, his jaw ticking with every breath. His clothes—another round of jeans and a dark sweater—were perfect, though the way he kept shoving up his sleeves bordered on frenetic. Even his hair looked a bit wild.
Then there was the darkness under his eyes, like the early stain of a bruise. It was probably from jet lag. Understandable. I’d be a constant zombie with his schedule.
“Have you had a chance to give it some thought?” he asked.
Instead of responding, I fussed with the pretzels that’d slid into the cheese section of the plate. I didn’t know what to say and I hated that because it was always easy with Ryan. There was never pretense or expectation or any kind of awkwardness.Nothing was off-limits. We’d always understood each other implicitly, and now—now, I didn’t understand anything.
“You know I hate to pry into your situation with all of this,” I started.
“Shut up. You love to pry,” he said.
I looked up to find his eyes bright and a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. And just like that, I pushed away all the tentativeness that had coiled itself around my neck since last weekend. That was all it took to get back tous. “Then you’ll have no problem explaining to me what this is all about and why the hell anyone would care enough about your personal life that you’d need to invent a bride.”
“Invent a bride,” he said to himself, his eyes flashing wide like I was the one being ridiculous here. “I have two more seasons on my contract. I won’t be shopping for a renewal after that.” He ran his palms down his denim-clad thighs, his brows pinched tight like he was waiting for me to protest. He should’ve known that wasn’t going to happen. “I’m working with a partner to buy a few pro soccer franchises in the US. One family currently owns most of the undeveloped men’s and women’s franchises and they have no intention of building those teams. They’re holding out for the biggest payday possible.”
“And you’re telling me these bidders have to bemarried? Why complicate the money-grubbing mission with that kind of requirement? Seems weird.”
“The Wallaces are ultraconservative,” he said. “The vetting process has been unreal—and complete bullshit. They’ve narrowed it down to a small pool of buyers and the pressure is on. We’re close, we’re at the final push, but we have to fall in line. It pisses me off that I’m even playing their game.”
He shoved a hand through his hair and I nodded. It was good to know that we were only doing this because he had noother options. And just for a short while. It was harder to let my thoughts run away from me this way.
“But these undeveloped teams are the best way to go,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m bringing in a whole lot more investors and giving up most of the vision we’ve already established.”
“And you’re willing to get married,” I said. “To get these teams.”
He started to respond but stopped himself. His gaze flicked to me before he drained his water and snagged a few grapes from the plate. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, I am. But only to you.” He shoved a few more grapes in his mouth. “It’s our history that makes it believable. I wouldn’t be able to do this with anyone else.”
“I guess it’s nice to know I’m not at the bottom of your list or something depressing like that.”
He met my eyes. “You’re the list, Em. You’re it.”
I scratched at a dried bit of something on the table with my fingernail. I hated that I liked being the only one he’d choose to be his fake fiancée. I couldn’t believe I was operating at this level of pathetic.
“How does this even work, Ryan?”
“It works however you want it to work,” he said, an edge in his words. “Decide how you want it to be and that’s what we’ll do.”
“What are we going to tell people? What are we going to tell ourfamilies?”
He pressed his fingertips to his eyelids as a breath rattled out of him. “We’ll get to that,” he said, though it sounded quite a bit likeI have no fucking clue. “We should go over the events I have coming up—and the ones that you have too. I want to make sure I have those blocked out for you. This isn’t just about me. We’re getting you all the revenge you want and then a little extra from me.”
“I’ve always admired your vindictive side.”
“The basis of all good marriages.”
I eyed him. What the hell were we doing? “You think?”
His shoulders lifted. “Let’s test the theory.”
I left him in the kitchen to get my planner. It only took a second but I leaned against my bedroom door and pushed long, deep breaths out through my mouth.
What the hell was I doing?
I needed someone to come and explain my life to me. To tell me what to do because clearly I was not the person qualified to make my decisions.
What would they say?Your oldest friend in the world needs you to marry him for a business deal and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, even if you know that there’s no way for you to fake your way through this and you will get hurt when it’s over.
On second thought, I didn’t need anyone telling me what to do. I could muddle through just fine.
