“Ah, perfect timing,” my mother said as she sidled up beside me.
“Hayden, darling, you look wonderful.” My father kissed her cheek. “It’s so good to see you.”
Her crisp blond hair was nestled at her shoulders. It was shorter than I remembered and complemented her face, letting her aquamarine eyes take center stage. Her lashes were long, likely fake for the event, but the rest of her makeup was subtle. My attention was drawn to curves I’d never noticed in any of our previous interactions. With our moms being as close as they are, Ihad never thought about Hayden as more than a friend; I figured she was off-limits anyway. My mom would have murdered me if I’d pursued her in high school. Her dad no doubt would have too.
But she was beautiful. Her floor-length emerald gown hugged her hips and exposed a strip of skin with a high but tasteful slit up one side. The cut of the neckline highlighted her cleavage, and if my mom hadn’t been standing next to me, I might have needed to adjust myself in my dress pants.
No sooner had reintroductions been made than Dr. and Mrs. Draper appeared beside us, goofily shaking hands with my parents and exchanging kisses on cheeks.
“Oh, I see the kids have gotten together,” Mrs. Draper drawled, the olives in her martini nearly sloshing over the side.
“Let’s leave them to it, Flo,” Dr. Draper remarked, plucking the drink from her hand. “Cliff, Stephanie, let’s arrange a lunch at the club this week. You too, son.” He nodded at me. With a shake of my hand, he escorted his tipsy wife toward the silent auction table.
My parents smiled at me, then at Hayden, before excusing themselves as well.
“Did you get dragged here too?” she asked.
Two days later, although I’d secretly hoped he would forget, I found myself having lunch with Dr. Draper, as well as Flo, Hayden, and both my parents. It was immediately clear why Hayden and I had been invited.
“Did you forget about your inheritance?” my father whispered at the table so only I could hear.
No, I had not. But truth be told, I’d hoped my parents had. Or at least were not going to follow through with the stipulations:To be wed by thirty-two.
My dad was set to retire in the next few years and had it in his thick skull that in order to inherit his title of chief executive officer, I would need to be married. Why my father believes Ican’t be a bachelor and run a company, I will never understand. He likes to spew words like “optics” and “standards” and “reputation.”
Hayden, who sat across from me, had a willful look caked on her delicate face. Her eyes saidWe have no choice. It could be worse.While no one spoke the words aloud, what we were served during that meal—alongside overpriced lobster—was a modern-day arranged marriage.
I wasn’t about to make a scene in the middle of the dining room, but I excused myself to the restroom. Rather than go into the men’s room, I dropped into a winged-back leather chair in the lounge just outside the restrooms and hunched forward, knees on my elbows and hands through my hair.
That’s where Hayden found me. She knelt beside me, adjusting the pearls around her neck. “Hey,” she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, though no one else was in the lounge.
“Hey.” Heaving a breath, I sat back in my chair.
“Are you surprised?”
I shrugged. “I suppose not.”
Her Rolex sparkled on her pale wrist when she placed her hand on my forearm.
Unspoken words passed between us. Life with Hayden would mean a life of security. It wasn’t a death sentence. I liked her parents well enough. It wasn’t the life I’d choose for myself, but what choice did I have?
And now that we’ve been together for nearly a year, we’ve found our rhythm. For the most part, life with her has been easy. Before her, I never once stopped to imagine what my future wife would be like. While I wonder whether there should be more passion in our relationship, I know it’s the right thing to do for my family. Taking over as CEO is important to my parents, and I don’t want to let them down.
After another fifteen minutes, Hayden finally finishes up in the bathroom, and we’re out the door. Even though her parents stay in an apartment in the city the majority of the time, they’ve kept their house on Long Island—about a twenty-minute drive from us.
“You need a haircut,” she says, but she’s looking down at her phone.
“Okay…” I swipe my fingers through my hair and steal a glance in the rearview mirror before turning my focus back to the road. The top is getting a little long, but I keep the sides trimmed. I even styled it with the stupidly expensive pomade Hayden bought me, and I think it looks nice.
When we drive between the twin stone lions and pull onto the U-shaped drive, Hayden’s mom is waiting for us. With one heeled foot still on a marble step, she pulls me in for a hug.
“Hello, Mrs. Draper.” I squeeze back.
“Oh, Cameron, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Flo?”
Over Flo’s shoulder, Hayden’s dad is watching the exchange. His expression saysDon’t you dare call me anything other than Dr. Draper.
He offers me a friendly slap on the back when it’s his turn to greet me, like he didn’t just threaten me with his bushy brows. “Cameron, good to see you. How’s the hotel?”
