He’s right. I understand it. Once we cross this line, there’s no going back to simple dinner theater. This will be a full-scale production with hundreds of moving parts and countless opportunities for everything to go wrong.
“Okay,” I respond, because what else can I say? I’m the one who got us into this. “But I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. This is my fault.”
“Actually,” Ben declares, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “I do owe you something. What do you want in return for this?”
“In return?”
“You’re agreeing to plan and participate in a fake ceremony to save my business agreement.” He spreads his hands. “That’s above and beyond the call of friendship duty. What can I do for you?”
I consider this as we start walking again. What do I want? The honest answer is complicated and involves feelings I’m not ready to examine too closely. But the practical answer is easier.
“A honeymoon,” I declare.
“A honeymoon?”
“A really nice one.” The idea is gaining momentum in my mind as I speak. “If I’m going through with a fake ceremony, I want a fake honeymoon to go with it. Somewhere I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Where?”
“Japan.” The word comes out breathlessly. “I’ve wanted to visit Japan since I took that art history class in college. The temples, the gardens, the way they think about beauty and simplicity. I’ve dreamed about seeing it in person.”
His smile widens. “Japan, it is. Two weeks in Japan, five-star hotels, first-class flights, whatever you want.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s the least I can do.” He pauses. “Freya, thank you for this. You really don’t need to do it, though. We can go to Japan without?—”
“No, it’s settled.” I nod at him. “It’s okay. I don’t have anything to lose. It’s not like I’m dating anyone right now.”
He nods and gazes down. His expression is unreadable.
We’ve reached his car now. A sleek black sedan that probably costs more than I make in two years. Ben opens the passenger door for me, and as I slide into the leather seat, I’m struck by the surreal nature of what we just agreed to.
I’m going to marry my best friend.
It’s fake, of course. A business arrangement disguised as a romantic gesture. But still. We’re going to stand up in front of our families and friends and promise to love each other forever, understanding it’s all a lie.
“Hey,” Ben mentions as he starts the engine. “I think we should establish some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?”
“For the marriage. And the honeymoon.” He adjusts the rearview mirror. “Just so we’re both clear on what this is and what it isn’t.”
My stomach flutters nervously. “What kind of ground rules?”
“Well, for starters, no catching feelings.”
The words come out so matter-of-factly that it takes me a moment to process them. When I do, I let out a laugh that sounds more forced than I intended.
“Catching feelings? What are we, teenagers?”
“You understand what I mean.” Ben glances at me as he pulls into traffic. “This is a business arrangement. We’re friends doing each other a favor. We can’t let it get complicated.”
“Right. Of course.” I force another laugh. “Because that would be ridiculous. Us, catching feelings for each other? We’ve been friends for a million years. If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now.”
“Exactly.”
I work to swallow the lump in my throat. “Good.”
