I glance over at him through my sunglasses. “Hit me straight.”
Despite my wishes for the directness, my stomach twists with nerves. I’ve been so detached, there’s no telling what he’s about to say, and that gives me anxiety.
“First off, I am relieved you never married Tyler. Good call,” he says as he leans in.
I brace myself, afraid that whatever comes will make me mad.
He ticks off on his fingers. “Tyler’s still a douche canoe.”
“Obviously.”
“Your sister has been at the office every day visiting said douche canoe and asking for money and attention from anywhere she can get it. Mainly your parents because Tyler doesn’t have any, and he’s hanging onto his job by a thread. Your father has had it with him. And word is that the board has as well. He is lazy and got away with it because he was marrying you. Now that he’s not? Nobody cares about his loser ass anymore.”
Well, no surprise there on Belladonna. Word has it she’s burned through her inheritance. I invested mine and kept working. But that’s what a normal person would do. Not a grifter like Belladonna. How someone can blow through that much money in just a few years is beyond me.
“She’s exhausting.” I sigh.
“And your father,” he lowers his voice, “is angry.”
That makes my stomach twist with guilt. “What’s he most angry about?”
“Everything,” Wilby says. “About Tyler, optics, and losing control.”
I pick at my fingernail as I stare out at the water. “Great.”
“And,” he adds carefully, “your mother’s been coming around constantly.”
I groan and snap my head to him. “What?”
“She’s actually attended board meetings,” he says.
I’m stunned by this fact. It’s…unusual.
“I have never seen her attend a single meeting,” I say, and can’t help but wonder what her angle is here. I don’t like it.
“No,” he agrees. “It’s not good. They’re circling. Something is going on. They’re planning something, Silverlyn.”
I blow out my breath. “What are you thinking?”
Wilby looks around slowly, as if he’s scanning the beach, the bar, and the easy rhythm of this place, and about to drop a bomb.
“I’m saying,” he says, casual but sharp. “Maybe you could find a temporary fake husband.”
My heart stutters to a halt. He can’t be for real right now.
I bark out a laugh. “Come on, Wilby. Be serious.”
“Iamserious. You just need to think outside the box here,” he says. “Can you think of anyone?”
“You know it’s not that simple. My grandmother had rules set in place. I can’t just choose some rando and make it work.”
He frowns and lets out a frustrated huff. “I feel like we need to make it happen one way or another. Your time is slipping away. I’m afraid if you wait too long, the vultures are going to swoop in.”
My head throbs as I try to work out who the vultures might be. In my gut, I know, but I’ve been playing blissfully ignorant in paradise.
“I could marry you,” I say, wondering if that’s too far outside the box.
He recoils. “Ew. No offense, darling, but you are absolutely not my type.”
