“A bed?” Now I was starting to sound like a freakin’ parrot.
“Yes, a bed.” He bit his lip as his gaze trailed over me. “It sure as hell wouldn’t be a hardship for me and I’d make sure it wasn’t for you either. I promise.”
I was pissed at myself for wearing a thin cotton bra that did nothing to hide my reaction to his promise. “Kind of a friends-with-bennies thing, but we’d be married?” It wasn’t any crazier than my scheme. We’d probably be married a year or more and I didn’t relish the prospect of going without that long either. It’s not like I had guys beating down the door to ravish me, but I liked sex as much as the next girl.
He shrugged. “Sure, call it whatever you want.”
I’d be an idiot to rush into a decision like this. What if sex with Joel turned out to be the best of my life, which wasn’t hard to imagine, and I did something stupid, like fall for him?
“Um, can I think about it while you’re in the shower? And you should think about the implications of my proposition too. I mean, this is costing you a hell of a lot more than it’s costing me. I get my show, to build my brand, and help makeover a house I’ve always loved. There really is no down side for me.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, taking a step back as he raked a hand through his dark wavy hair. “I know how much you want a for-real marriage and to have kids someday. You’re putting all of that on hold while we’re in this pseudo-marriage. That sounds like a pretty big sacrifice to me, G. I hate to remind you, but we’re not getting any younger.”
He wasn’t wrong. I was turning thirty-three in a couple of months and I could be stuck in this fake marriage until I was thirty-five or even thirty-six, dramatically reducing my chances of conception, even if I did meet the right guy soon after my divorce from Joel.
“A lot of women make sacrifices for their careers,” I said, trying to tamp down my doubt and fear. “I wouldn’t be the first.”
“No, but maybe those women weren’t born domestic goddesses the way you were.” His gaze softened as his calloused hands moved over my outer thighs. “I know you, babe. You’ve always talked about how much you wanted it all: the house in the country, husband who was crazy about you, and if I recall correctly, four kids.”
He’d nailed it. I once told him I wanted all of those things, but as the years slipped by I decided to throw myself into my career and make peace with all the things I couldn’t have: like a happy marriage and family. Not that I’d given up on ever getting married to a guy who adored me. It could still happen; I just wasn’t banking on it anymore. Now I was trying to build a life I loved, from the ground up, and if I met a guy who wanted to be a part of it? Great. If not? I’d deal.
“We can’t always get what we want.” I closed my hands over his. “But I can have a career that brings me a lot of joy and build a business that gives me the financial security I need to take care of myself, and right now, that has to be enough.”
He nodded before pushing off the counter. “Okay, I just want you to be sure.” He tapped his fingertip against my nose. “You cooked me breakfast, so let me clean up this mess so I can hop in the shower and we can be on our way. Because there’s no way I’m going to change my mind. If you’re in, so am I.”
Yup, this man was the answer to every prayer I never knew I had.
* * *
After getting out of the shower, Joel gave me one last chance to back out, before we took the first step: buying a ring. I thought the first step was adopting a dog, but he assured me we could get the ball rolling faster if we posted a selfie with my brand-new engagement ring on social media. I’d fired off a quick text to my branding consultant and she loved the idea.
When he parallel parked in front of the most exclusive jewelry store in town, I grabbed his arm before he hopped out of his Range Rover. “Joel, wait. This is crazy. We can just get a cubic. No one will know the difference.”
He glared at me over his shoulder. “I’ll know the difference. My wife is not going to be wearing a fake ring, now get your sweet butt out of that car, so we can find you some bling.”
I wanted to offer to pay for the ring, but that would seriously cut into the money I’d set aside for his home reno. He claimed he wouldn’t let me pay for the improvements, but I was determined to find a way. He was helping me so much, I had to find some small way to re-pay him.
My stomach was tied up in knots as we walked through the imposing glass doors. I was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and flip flops. Not the attire I would have chosen if I’d known we were going ring shopping today.
Joel, on the other hand, looking yummy, as he always did. Faded jeans and a fitted white rib knit had never looked better. He wore casual better than any man I’d ever known. Probably because he was so comfortable in his own skin and didn’t feel the need to impress anyone. Not gonna lie, I’d always believed quiet confidence was a man’s sexiest trait, and Joel had it in spades.
“Relax,” he whispered in my ear. “I don’t think anyone here bites.”
My stomach did a little flip-flop as he laced his hand through mine. We’d never held hands before. But I supposed we would be venturing into a lot of new territory as our fake wedding approached.
“Hello there, how can I help you today?” A woman in her mid-fifties with a silver pixie cut, smiled at us as she made her way around the glass display case.
“We’re looking for an engagement ring,” Joel said, without hesitation.
I looked up and he winked at me. There wasn’t even the slightest tremor in his voice. He clearly had no reservations, unlike me. I questioned my sanity every other minute for dragging him into my ruse.
The lady lit up as she clasped her manicured hands together. “Isn’t that wonderful!”
It probably was wonderful for her; she would no doubt earn a sizeable commission. I hadn’t always been so cynical, but putting myself out there taught me the hard way how many nasty people there are in the world.
“Do you know what kind of ring you’re looking for?” she asked, reaching for a key ring fastened to her wrist. “Solitaire? Vintage inspired? Three-stone? Halo? Or maybe something non-traditional?”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I didn’t want to appear clueless, so I forced a smile as I said, “Um, how about we start with vintage inspired?” It sounded like something I would like.
