by Haley Travis
“Sounds good.”
“Any particular kind?” There were at least seven bottles of that varietal that looked good.
“Whatever grabs your eye.”
“I guess Italian, to go with the pasta,” I said, pulling out a bottle with a serious looking label.
“Corkscrew is in the second drawer. Could you please open it so it can breathe? Glasses are in the cupboard at your end.”
“Sure.” It seemed a little odd that he’d just let me help myself to any kind of wine, and let me putter in his kitchen. I poured us each a glass, giving it a swirl, and letting them sit out.
The sauce was starting to smell amazing, but I needed answers even more than a solid meal. “So, would you like to start telling me more about your amazing idea?”
He nodded. “Well, I don’t know if it’s amazing. It’s definitely weird. But it would fix both of our issues at once. I don’t believe in signs, but if I did, I’d say that running into you was a sign. That’s what triggered my idea.”
Setting the lid on the pot, he sat down on the stool beside mine. “Here’s the thing. I just found out that my older brother George has been hiding the fact that the inheritance I get from my Uncle Geoffrey is more complicated than I realized. I was told that I will be given eight million dollars on my thirtieth birthday, which is in two years. But I get it immediately if I’m married.”
Eight million dollars? my brain squeaked. “Oh. And you need the money now?”
He smiled slightly. “No, not really. But I know that I could invest it better than where it’s currently being held. So I don’t want to waste two years of access to that cash. But there’s more.” He reached out to swirl the wineglasses, handing me one. “To open-mindedness and new friends.”
I clinked glasses, then took a big sip. I had a feeling there was a lot more.
“Uncle Geoffrey owned a huge house on the Bridle Path. Have you ever been there?”
I nodded. “My friend drove us through there once. The houses are insane.”
“Yeah. His house goes to my older brother.”
“Because he’s the oldest?”
He nodded, obviously exasperated. “My uncle was the epitome of the rich eccentric, but he stuck with that tradition.”
“How long ago did he pass?”
“Almost two years ago. There was so much red tape because of his weird rules and requests on every detail that they’re only getting finalized now.”
“So, you wanted this house for yourself? Is it fancy, or special?”
He took another sip of wine before answering. “It’s extremely valuable, but that’s not the point. George is the type of person to randomly tear things apart and build them back half-assed, with no regard for the proper way to do things. I’ve seen him do this with a few businesses. He didn’t bother finishing university because he’s lazy. He just has no follow through. This is a grand, old house. It needs to be cared for properly. I can’t trust him with it.”
“Would he really ruin it?”
There was a long, low sigh. “I wouldn’t put it past him to actually throw a frat house type of party there. He’s really irresponsible.”
“So, what does this have to do with me?”
His jaw tightened, then he took a deep breath. “If I were married before the end of September, I would get my eight million dollar inheritance early, and could likely buy the house from him before he spoils it.”
I nodded, sipping my wine. Then I blinked a few times. “You want me to marry you? For real?”
“Just for a year, to make it legal.”
“But–” I stopped, frozen. Playing someone’s wife at a party to get back at an ex-girlfriend or something was strange, but funny. This was mental.
“And you would live here,” he said quickly. “I have two spare bedrooms, you could have the larger one, and do whatever you wanted to the condo while you’re here. I’d pay for all of your expenses – food, clothes, whatever you want.” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “And all the wine you can drink. You’ve seen the cupboard.”
I burst out laughing, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked Lake Ontario, that was just a few blocks away.
He came up behind me and handed me my glass. Holding his up, he said, “To possibly making millions of dollars through being friends?” he asked hesitantly.
I clinked his glass while laughing. “Sure, let’s start there.” I took a sip, trying to will the alcohol into calming me down immediately.
“Do you like the place?” he asked. “If we decide that this is a good idea, this will be your home for the next year.”
“It’s incredible,” I said.
“I’m not that particular about anything, so if you wanted to rearrange stuff or whatever, I’d be fine with that.”
“Let’s start with the basics,” I asked. “I would be staying in the guest bedroom?”
“Oh, right,” he said. “Come on.”
Jacob took our glasses and set them on the coffee table, then motioned for me to follow him. The hallway was simple but elegant, and we passed several doors before we got to the second last room.
He opened it and led me inside. “This could be your room,” he said cautiously. I glanced at his eyes, and noticed that he looked quite nervous about my reaction, which surprised me a bit.
The room was huge, with a king-sized bed, a giant closet, a large bureau, and a charming writing desk in the corner. It also had floor to ceiling window, with a sliding door that opened onto the balcony.
“The living room balcony stops,” he explained, “And then the balcony for the two bedrooms on this side of the hallway is shared.”
I slid open the door and stepped out onto the terrace, looking down forty-three floors to the bustling traffic, then turned to look out across the lake, where sailboats were starting to come in as the sun was setting.
My mind was reeling. It was absolutely unreal that I could possibly live here, for free. This one room was bigger than two of the apartments I looked at, yet were snapped up before I could decide. It was absolutely insane that I was even thinking about getting married for a place to live, but how could I not?
I could either beg for a microscopic, probably mold-ridden basement apartment that I could not quite afford, risk finding a roommate online who was sure to be some kind of sketchy weirdo, or I could live here, perfectly safe. With a doorman. And a wine fridge.
Coming back inside, I looked around the room again. It was stylishly pastel, but with a few prints and pillows for a bit more color, this would be absolute paradise. Everything I owned would fit in that closet, so I could keep the minimalist aesthetic.
I sat on the bed, bouncing slightly as if testing it.
“We could get you a new mattress, of course, if you don’t like this one,” Jacob said. “We could replace all of the furniture.”
I looked at him, aghast. “What’s wrong with this furniture?”
“Well, nothing, I guess, but you didn’t choose it.”
“It’s lovely,” I said.
He looked relieved, but unsure. “Come on, I’ll show you the den.”
Going back down the hallway one door, there was a large open room with soft caramel leather sofas, a gigantic flat-screen TV, and a huge dark worktable at the end farthest from the window.
“If you’re into crafts, you could take over this room most of the time. That big table is good for all sorts of projects, games, gift wrapping. Or sometimes it’s just easier to organize paperwork across a huge table.”
Having never used anything other than a scuffed kitchen table for projects in my entire life, I thought this was ridiculously decadent.
“I assume this is generally your TV room?”
“Yeah, the main room is sort of bright if you want to watch anything before sunset. Also, I don’t really like having a screen when I have parties. People always end up staring at it instead of the people they should be catching up with.”
“Do
you throw a lot of parties?”
“Every month or two I’ll have some people over for a drink. It’s usually pretty casual. Maybe twenty to thirty people.”
Having a home that could fit that many people would certainly make parties easier, I thought.
We went back to the living room, and I pulled my notebook out of my purse while he plated up the pasta, setting it on the dining room table. I noticed that he set our places together at the corner, so we’d be facing each other at an angle. This was non-confrontational body positioning, perfect for building trust. Perhaps he read psychology books and articles as I did. As a CEO, he certainly should.
I set my notebook down, then went to fetch our wine glasses while he got the cutlery. “Getting down to business?” he joked, but he seemed to approve.
“Yeah. I think I’m going to have to make a list of pros and cons and details here. It’s sort of a huge deal.”
“And there is a big question that we should clear up first,” he said, sipping his wine and leaning back into his chair. He looked so relaxed while discussing something that would monumentally change my entire life. “The inheritance is eight million dollars. What do you think is fair for your share of that?”
My muscles all seemed to clench at once, and my heart thumped awkwardly. “I thought you said I could live here.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll also get you a credit card to cover all of the expenses of being my wife. I’ll need you to have a selection of outfits that are standard for corporate events, and I’ll need you to accompany me to family and work functions now and then. With the time and trouble and personal weirdness that you’ll be going through, you certainly deserve a cut.”
I couldn’t speak. He wanted to pay me for living large like this? I took a deep breath tried to collect myself.
“My uncle’s house will be mine, of course, as that should stay in the family. But the money should be shared between us. What would be a fair amount to you?”
“Um.” My mind raced. What would the most sensible line of thought be here? It was difficult to think logically when he had such a tense, concerned expression. “I have nearly thirty thousand dollars in student debt. So, any amount that you think is fair will go toward that.”
“I was thinking an even million. That’s four times a good year’s salary, considering that this will rearrange your entire life for likely at least a year and a half, and although your actual work will be sporadic, it will occasionally be a full-time gig.”
My mouth fell open, then snapped shut. Jacob went to get us water, and set the glasses in front of us while I stared at the bits of pepper in the pasta sauce. “Thank you,” I finally said, taking a small sip. My fingers were obviously shaking.
My lungs expanded, my shoulders dropped, and I forced myself to calm down. “All you would need from me is to play the part of your wife?”
“Yes. We’ll have to figure out the details as we go along, but you’re a nice girl. You’re beautiful, obviously smart, funny, and you have a laid back vibe. You’re everything a man could want in a fake wife,” he winked. “I’m sure that we can work it out.”
I nodded, taking a slow bite of pasta. My mind was short-circuiting.
“How about we keep chatting as if you’ve already said yes to this, just to keep the ball rolling?”
“Sure, that’s fair,” I said.
“There will be lots of awkward conversations, so let’s just muddle through.”
“Okay, hit me.”
“Are you okay with taking my last name? Because if that doesn’t happen, it’s going to be a gigantic issue with my family.”
I nodded, contemplating, while he took a few bites. “The feminist part of me says that a woman should keep her name or change her name according to her guts, not societal pressure. But the part of me that says I really need the money, and I’m not really attached to my last name, says go for it.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with it?”
“Yeah. When your last name is Brown, you’re not very connected to it.”
“At least people can’t easily stalk you,” he joked.
“It’s the same color as my hair, so it’s easy to remember.”
“This isn’t just brown,” he said, tentatively picking up a long strand from my shoulder and holding it up in the light. “This is cinnamon with other spicy bits running through it.”
I was flattered, but surprised that he was so casual about touching my hair. I was also shocked at how much it made my heart race.
JACOB
<<< 4 >>>
SO FAR, SO GOOD
I dropped the piece of hair quickly and smiled. “I’m so relieved that you’re on board with the name change. I know that’s a major part of a person’s identity. Thank you.” I had to try not to touch her, or she’d think I was a creep. But it was hard not to stare into those sweet eyes. “Okay, here are a few more things I’ve thought of.”
Mia picked up her pen and prepared to take notes. “Ready.”
“If you can’t find something in the condo, you can just say that Carol must have moved it – and that our housekeeper has rearranged a bunch of things since you moved in.”
“You have a housekeeper?”
“Of course. Carol is great. You’ll like her.”
Mia looked almost stricken. “When does she come by?”
“Just half days, Mondays through Fridays, from around eleven to three-thirty.”
She looked around, trying to take in the space. “What does she do all day?”
“She keeps this place spotless, obviously, does the laundry, shopping, meal prep. She picks up my dry-cleaning, and orders deliveries. There are likely a few duties that would fall more under the personal assistant category, like helping me pick up a birthday gift for my mother, and things like that, but she doesn’t mind.”
“Um, will I be in her way if I leave my room while she’s here?”
The nervous look on her face nearly broke my heart. “Mia, she’s here for me, and she’ll be here for you as well. You’ll meet her when you move in. Carol is a lovely woman, and she’s glad to have a job with hours that allow her to drop her kids at school and pick them up.” Her expression was a complete mystery. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“The thought of someone looking after me like that is...” She trailed off, looking lost.
“Uncomfortable?” I offered.
“Yeah. It feels really classicist, somehow. It’s like having a servant,” she practically whispered.
“Huh,” I said, trying to figure her out. “But when you go to a coffee shop, someone makes your coffee, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s not in your home.”
“If your toilet breaks, you call in a plumber to fix it, right?” I asked.
She almost looked like she was getting angry, or tense. “That’s a job skill that not everyone has.”
“Well, I suck at laundry and don’t really know how to cook very well. People hire dog walkers when they’re out at the office all day. Is that okay?”
Her head tipped up to stare at the ceiling for a moment. “I see what you’re saying, and I don’t know how to be clear about it, but it’s different.”
I took a sip of my water, and she followed suit. “What if we file this under the things that are going to be weird for a while, but we’ll work on it? And if it doesn’t work in a month or two, we’ll revisit it, and make changes. Is that fair?”
“You know it’s really odd when you start talking like this is a board meeting,” she said with a little laugh.
“That’s my default. It works for me.”
“Okay. Yes. We’ll file that for now,” she said, nodding.
When we finished, I cleared the plates, and Mia moved our wine glasses and her notebook to the couch.
“I’m sorry that I don’t have dessert, but shall I open another bottle?” I reached into the tall, slim fridge that was packed with wine. “Moscato okay? I know that men are supposed to drink whiskey and
beer, but I like the sweet fruity stuff too.”
She laughed. “Cool. That’s a healthy attitude.”
Just as I poured us each a glass, there was a slight knock, then my front door opened. “Hey, Jacob. Sorry to interrupt.”
As always, my older sibling had no manners, and the worst possible timing. “Mia, I’d like you to meet my brother, George.”
She came over immediately to shake his hand. “Lovely to meet you.”
“You as well.” He looked her up and down, openly judging her slim figure and soft curves before turning to me. “Cute. You gonna keep this one?”