Enough to never worry about relying on Ben for rent again. Enough to take my time building a career, even with unpaid internships. Enough to choose what I want instead of what I can afford.
But it’s not just the money.
They need help. Real help. And I could give it to them.
And if I’m honest with myself—really honest—I don’t hate the idea of spending a year with the Locke triplets.
I used to have the biggest crush on these guys when I was younger. All three of them. They were older, confident, untouchable.
But I’m not a kid anymore. And neither are they.
I need all the details. “What happens if it doesn’t work? If the executor doesn’t buy it?”
Silas’s jaw tightens. “Then we lose everything.”
“But we’ll pay you in advance, so you keep the money,” Evan reassures me. “No matter what.”
I turn to Ben again. He’s watching me, protective but not interfering.
This is my choice. “Okay.”
Silas leans forward. “Okay? Are you saying you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.”
Callum exhales and grins. Evan’s shoulders drop, tension releasing. Silas nods once, controlled, but his eyes soften.
Ben reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He holds my gaze for another moment, then nods. “Okay, then.”
Evan lifts his glass. “To Tania.”
Callum raises his. “To not losing everything.”
Silas picks up his wine. “To a year.”
“To my best friends understanding that I know where you sleep,” Ben jokes.
We all laugh.
I lift my glass, and the five glasses meet in the center of the table.
We drink.
The conversation changes to logistics, including when I’ll move in, what I’ll need, and how we’ll handle public appearances.
Silas pulls out his phone and starts making notes. Callum interrupts with suggestions that Ben immediately vetoes. Evan mediates.
I sit back and let the noise wash over me, my wine glass cradled in both hands.
I just agreed to a fake relationship with three men.
For a year. For ten million dollars. The absurdity of it settles in my chest, but it doesn’t feel wrong.
After dinner, I help clear the table. Evan loads the dishwasher while Callum wipes down the counters. Silas pours himself another glass of wine, then braces a hand against the island, watching me.
