“Again? I know you never liked him, but he hates your guts more than I ever imagined. What and when did this happen?”
“Back in March. I didn’t mention it because it’s not my story to tell. Just trust me. His hate of me is nothing compared to my detest of him. And another thing, don’t ever mention my ex-girlfriend again. If you do either of those things, the deal is off. I’ll shred the contract before it even begins.”
She sighed, as he knew she would. Beanz was never good at hard lines, always crossing them and doing whatever she wanted. Well, that shit was going to end if she had any intention of becoming the future Mrs. Darcy.
“I liked you better as a drunk,” she said. “Fine. So, you’re on board with my idea?”
“In a manner.”
She took a sip of her drink then craned her neck to read the cover of the contract next to his arm. “‘The Marriage Pact.’ So very official.”
“Itisofficial. Charlie drew it up yesterday. Laughed his ass off but drew it up nonetheless.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine him getting into the idea. Such an awesome lawyer, but a romantic dreamer. He still thinks love should be organic, like some sappy rom-com meet-cute in a coffee shop.”
“Don’t be so hard on him—he’s a good guy,” he defended, then took a sip. “Did you mention Sunday night to your sister?”
“About my crazy—but totally brilliant—idea or about what’s her name and The Breakup, or how you banged me senseless?”
“Any of it, because if you breathe a word to anyone about my ... emotional breakdown, all bets are off.”
She laughed. “Of course I won’t tell her how you wept on my shoulder! What do you take me for, a gossip? She was out wedding gown shopping anyway. As for what we did…”
Picking up her phone, she scrolled her FacePage timeline, tapped away, then said, “Poof! All gone.”
“What is?”
“The meme I posted about your equipment.”
“Jeez. The internet is forever, Beanz! If we go ahead with this deal, that kinda stuff has to stop.”
“Why? I didn’t name you! You think I want either of our mothers to find out we had mind-blowing sex? My dad still thinks I’m a virgin.” She snorted. “Like, any of those still exist!”
He’d probably slept with the last one. He sighed, a sliver of doubt about the “pact” creeping in, especially considering hehadn’t given thought to her insane family. “You know, you’re exasperating, right?”
“That’s why youlooveme.” She grinned.
“Not really. I like you because you’re only one of a few who stuck by me longer than a minute ... and, you make me laugh.”
“True that.”
“Anyway, don’t let on about the contract to anyone. It may not even come to fruition if either of us stupidly end up with someone, but if the time comes, the progression of our relationship must look natural, like one of Charlie’s unrealistic movies.”
“I can hear it now, ‘How cute. Childhood friends fell in love. Blech,” she said followed by a grimace and sticking her tongue out.
“Right. For all intents and purposes, we’ll be madly head over heels for each other. I’ll be your Prince Charming, and you’ll be my be-all-to-end-all boo.”
“That’ll be a stretch.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” he joked.
“Ha Ha. Okay, so what does your contract say?”
“First off, if, and only if, we find ourselves still single and sick of the dating rat race, the timeline—the contract—will commence ten years from today. If neither of us fall in love or are in a serious relationship with another, then we’ll get engaged for four months. In the interim, we’ll be each other’s plus one should the need arise.”
“Ten years! That’s ridiculous. I’ll be an old woman with a dried-up va-jay-jay by then! A lotta good that’ll do you if you want arm candy.”
He rolled his eyes. “If all goes according to plan, this legally binding contract of convenience is for a mutually serving type of friendship, companionship, and, of course, to enhance my corporate image. That’s all. Age is irrelevant.”
