“You knowThe Princess Bride?You must not be as uptight as I took you for. I guess I can marry you then.” The words flow freely in the midst of my laugh, but when the last syllable rolls off my tongue, I clasp my hands over my mouth.
Darcy’s hands fall to the bottom of the steering wheel as I stare wide-eyed at his darkened frame. As we enter the city lights, I notice he cuts his eyes to me then back to the road before he says, “Good. It’ll be easier to spin your little show at dinner if we become an official item in the eyes of everyone. Let’s talk about thejob change.”
“That wasn’t a yes!” And I’m back in a sour mood. How does this man have me wanting to throw hands one moment, laughingwithout a care in the world the next, and then back to wanting to throw hands all in the span of a few minutes?
I need time tothink, for crying out loud!
“No, don’t do it!” I yell at the television screen and throw a handful of popcorn for good measure. I hate this part inFruits Basket, another one of my favorite anime shows, where Tohru practically slaves away in the Sohma house in order to live there. “Just say no to the powerful Sohmas!”
The concept of the show is irritating me a bit more than usual today. Though I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Darcy Marshall, one of the most powerful men in the entire country—probably the world one day, judging by his brilliant and capable mind—proposed to me last night. And I almost said yes.
Proposal isn’t the right word. More like hired. He wants to hire me to be his wife. As if I am that type of woman. I may have grown up running the streets between group homes and foster homes, but that doesn’t mean I will sell out for a dollar.
Right?
He never responded after I reminded him I never said yes. Instead, he drove with an easy smugness as if he didn’t hear me. I even repeated the sentiment that I never said yes to him, but he didn’tseem to comprehend it as his grin grew cockier with every passing mile to his estate.
But Ididseriously consider marrying him for a moment there. In that one instance, I saw him. I saw the loneliness plaguing his eyes and mirroring my own. We could help each other. We could learn to be friends. We could lean on each other. It’s why I placed my hand on his shoulder and tried to let him know that I saw him while we were at dinner.
Darcy wants to pay me to be his wife, and that isn’t acceptable, right?
“You have so much student loan debt,” I say in an attempt to persuade myself. “And you are being evicted from your apartment. You need the money and a place to live. What’s better than living at your workplace? You could save so much time in the morning. You could pay off your loans and finally use your income to go explore. You could go to Japan!”
Japan…
I’ve wanted to explore the island country for as long as I can remember. Manga and anime were my escape throughout the dark abyss of life, and they stem out of that beloved country. I thought the dream of traveling was a little out of reach, but now…
“No!” I can work my way through the debt even if it takes years. I’m sure there is an apartment somewhere with a dotted line on a contract waiting for my name. Doing life on my own is better than selling my soul to the devil for a lengthy part of my life, depending on the election outcome. Which my career hinges upon.
But didn’t he say to view the marriage as a job promotion? Heck, being the wife of Darcy Marshall will be no easy task. Sotechnically, marrying him would be working my way through the debt. Plus, I would have a place to securely lay my head at night.
I throw another handful of popcorn to vent frustration, and then I grab my throw pillow from the other cushion of the couch and hug it close to my body, burying my head into the softness.
What should I do?
Groaning, I yank my head up then pause the show.
I should call Stella. She’ll know what to do.
After a few rings, she answers, and I’m met with sleepy eyes, a messy bun, and a yawn.
“Hello, Mrs. Grady,” I sing. A soft smile paints her lips.
“It’s five a.m.,” she complains.
I shrug. “It’s six here. Besides, shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”
“I had fifteen more minutes of sleep, you dirty little sleep-stealer. This better be good.” Stella yawns again. “Wait, shouldn’tyoube ready for work? You’re in pajamas.”
“I am taking today off after last night.” I tug at my own messy bun with my free hand.
“Well, what happened? Go on. You woke me up.”
“And me,” Lucas grumbles from the background.
“Hold on. Let me get out of the room.” Stella grunts as she gets out of bed. A few moments later, she’s in Lucas’s kitchen—her kitchen.
I’m silent as she begins to make coffee.
