“What else would it be?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with all the things we’re not saying. What else would it be? It could be a chance for both of us to stop pretending we don’t have feelings for each other. Itcould be an opportunity to explore what we might be together if we were brave enough to try.
But those are dangerous thoughts, and we’ve already agreed: no catching feelings.
“Nothing,” I say finally. “It’s exactly what you said it is.”
Ben nods, but something in his expression suggests he’s not entirely convinced either.
He’s right about my walking away with some good from this. He insisted that the honeymoon to Japan wasn’t enough; he wants to also give me enough money that I won’t ever have to work again.
I have to say, it’s generous, and I’m grateful, but…
There’s always a “but” when it comes to him.
“I should go,” I say, standing up and gathering my purse. “I have some design work to finish tonight.”
“Freya.” Ben stands too, moving around the desk to walk me to the door. “Are you sure you’re okay with all this? Because if you’re having second thoughts…”
“I’m not having second thoughts.” It’s not entirely true, but it’s what he needs to hear. “I made a commitment, and I’m going to honor it.”
“Thank you. I know this isn’t easy.”
“What are friends for?”
But as I ride the elevator down from his office, I can’t shake the feeling that friendship isn’t what this is anymore. Signingthose papers changed something between us, turned something organic and real into something calculated and temporary.
I agreed to help Ben with one dinner, and somehow that spiraled into engagement photos, wedding venues and legal contracts. My entire life is about to change… where I live, how I spend my time, what people think of me… and it’s all for a relationship that comes with a built-in expiration date.
The worst part is that I have no one to blame but myself. I’m the one who suggested we go through with the wedding. I’m the one who agreed to all the publicity. I’m the one who keeps saying yes when I should probably be saying no.
I don’t want a fake marriage to Ben.
I want a real one.
And that was never part of the deal.
CHAPTER 11
FREYA
My phone buzzes with Ben’s ringtone just as I’m applying the final touches of mascara. I stare at his name on the screen for a moment, my hand frozen halfway to my lashes.
I should answer. We haven’t spoken in three days, not since we signed those contracts in his office. Three days of deliberately not returning his texts, of finding excuses to be busy when he suggested meeting up, of generally behaving like a coward.
The phone stops ringing, then immediately buzzes with a voicemail notification.
I finish my mascara and check my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The black dress I’ve chosen is simple but elegant, appropriate for a gallery opening without being too formal. My hair falls in loose waves around my shoulders, and I’ve managed to cover the dark circles under my eyes that have appeared since this whole fake engagement business began consuming my life.
I look like someone who’s put together, someone who’s excited to spend an evening surrounded by art and interesting people.
I don’t look like someone who’s been avoiding her best friend because she’s terrified of what she might say to him.
My phone buzzes again. A text this time.
Ben: “Hey, just wanted to see how you’re doing. Call me when you get a chance?”
I type and delete three different responses before settling on: “Heading out for the evening. Will call you later.”
