“I do.”
“Do you also go to church?”
My stomach drops. He had a Bible verse in his Instagram bio, something from Philippians I didn’t bother to look up. “Not really. Christmas and Easter only.” And those I liked mostly for the food and singing and getting to hang out with various people.
“Good.” But he doesn’t elaborate.
“You know,” I say, “I could be after you for your money.”
He shrugs. “I’m asking you to be after me for my money. Look, I need someone who’ll do all the team wife-and-girlfriend stuff and make me look good to the press. The rest is pretty much—” He makes awhatevergesture. “Up to you.”
Which sounds less like awifeand more like ajob description. “What do I get in return?”
For some reason, that makes Brayden laugh.
“Why are you laughing?” I ask.
“Because that’s not ano.”
“It isn’t ayeseither.”
He studies me across the shining surface of the table. “What do you need?”
“Tuition. Everything involved with going to school, really—books, fees, whatever—for the next two years until I have my degree.”
“Done.”
“Aren’t you gonna ask how much that is?”
Brayden raises his eyebrows and takes another large sip. “No. What else?”
“Health insurance. I take medication for a chronic condition.”
He peers at me like he’s expecting to see something obvious that he somehow missed.
“It’s manageable,” I say. Not that I’m currentlymanagingit.
“All right…” As if he doesn’t quite believe me.
“And living expenses between now and when I move to Atlanta.”
That gets his smile—that same sharp-toothed one from last night.
“What?” I ask.
“You saidwhen,notif.” He tosses back the rest of his drink. “There is one more thing.”
Here’s the catch.“What’s that?” I ask warily.
“We’re getting married.”
“I haven’t saidyesyet.”
“But you’re going to. That means…” He looks around like he’s searching for the right words. “Forsaking all others.” He drops his voice. “So you can’t sleep with anyone else.”
Theelsemakes me stop. What exactly is this arrangement about? “I’m not sleeping with you, either.”
He blinks. “Yeah, I figured.”
