I run my fingers up her spine, gently brushing her skin. She shivers. Groaning, she slides off me and rolls onto her back. She throws her arm over her eyes and I watch her chest heave up and down as she gulps in air. I take off the used condom and get up to toss it in the trash, grabbing a towel from the chair.
When I slide back in bed, I hand Naomi the towel. She takes it, throwing it over her body and shaking her head.
“That was nice,” she whispers. It’s almost as if she can’t get her voice to work properly.
I chuckle. “It was.”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her in for another kiss. We lay there until we fall asleep in each other’s arms. My sleep is deep, dreamless and peaceful.
From that day on, Naomi spends most evenings at my place. We don’t talk about our previous conversation, about keeping this strictly business. It’s like a dam has broken, and all we can do is hold on to each other for dear life. I look forward to coming home from work and calling her. We make dinner, we watch movies, we do everything and nothing together.
My parents go back to their house in the Sands Point, satisfied that I’ve found my match. As the days pass, I start to think that I’ve found her too.
I ignore the doubt in my heart. Once in a while, it whispers in my ear: would Naomi be here if we didn’t have a contract?
One evening, Naomi sits on my sofa and pulls out her work notes. She sits with her legs folded underneath her, chewing the end of her pen. I glance over her shoulder, watching her scratch down notes for tomorrow’s clients. She looks up at me, smiling as I lean down to lay a soft kiss on her lips.
“I should probably get going,” she says. “Early start.”
“Spend the night,” I say, resting my hands on her shoulders. I massage them gently as she moans, closing her eyes and leaning her head to one side.
“I don’t have any clothes for work,” she says.
“Bring some here. I’ll get you a toothbrush. You’re here most evenings anyway, it doesn’t make sense for you to go home every night. It’s faster to get to work from here.”
She takes a deep breath, and I lay a kiss on the top of her head.
“I want to wake up next to you,” I say, brushing my cheek against hers. She turns and lays a kiss on my lips, and then laughs.
“Well I’m here all the time anyway,” she says. “Might as well bring a change of underwear.”
“I’ll clear a drawer for you,” I grin. “Want to go grab some stuff at your place tonight?”
Her eyes spark and she nods her chin gently. “Sure,” she says, and my heart thumps.
26
Naomi
After the excitement of our first few days as an ‘engaged’ couple, life with Max becomes somewhat normal. We’re almost like a real couple.
Well, I guess we are a real couple. I sleep over at his place—he doesn’t come to mine so much, since mine is smaller and further away from both our workplaces. We go on dates, we watch Netflix and movies in the evenings.
There’s still a little voice in my head that says ‘this is a bad idea’. Besides the obvious—what happens when the month is over?—there’s so many things that could go wrong. What if someone finds out? What if his parents catch on? What if my mom finds out?
What if Max changes his mind?
Is any of this real? He’s paid me so much money, but I try not to think about that. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all. He never mentions it once the contract is signed and the money has been paid. After a little while, I stop thinking about it, too.
Once his parents leave, the media attention dies down and we just live our lives.
About a week after my mother’s surprise visit, she calls me while I’m at Max’s to tell me she’ll be in the city and she wants to meet Max. I sigh, knowing that I won’t be able to get out of it. She may not approve of weddings, or marriages, or me getting married, but she’ll still want to meet a guy I’m supposed to be engaged to.
I get off the phone and look over at Max as he stands in the kitchen. His eyebrow is arched. He grabs a hot tortilla and places it on a plate for me, nodding to the skillet full of chicken.
“What’s going on? Fajitas are ready.”
“They smell delicious,” I say, jumping up. “I never knew you were such a good cook.”
“Was that your mom on the phone? How is she doing?”
“She’s doing pretty well,” I say, spooning some chicken onto my tortilla. I can feel Max’s eyes on me, but I ignore him. Instead, I focus on the cheese and salsa for my fajita. Priorities, right?
“Sounded like she wanted something,” he prompts.
I chuckle. “She wants to meet you, actually.” I keep my eyes on my food. I can feel his gaze on me, and I finally drag my eyes over to him.
“You don’t seem too happy about that,” he grins.
“Are you?”
“Well, you are my fiancée.”
“Fake fiancée.”
“And you’ve met my parents, so it’s only fair that I would meet yours, too.”
My heart thumps and his eyes flash. I shake my head, finally letting myself laugh.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“What?” He says, turning to his own tortilla. It’s his turn to focus on the chicken as his lips twitch into a grin.
“You’re enjoying torturing me like this,” I laugh.
“Torture!”
“Yes, torture,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “This was all just some elaborate ploy to get me to go out with you.”
“You caught me,” he laughs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his lips to mine. “I’d love to meet your mom. She sounds amazing. Just like you.”
“Smooth talker,” I laugh. A blush stains my cheeks as my heart does a backflip. Just like every other time he’s around.
So much for keeping things professional.
This is starting to feel way, way too real. But I’m not sure I’m mad about that. I don’t know how I feel, except that I’m happier with Max than I’ve been in a long time.
We eat our fajitas, and then I call my mother back. Max agrees to have her over at his place for dinner. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him gently. His tall, muscular frame feels so solid against me. He growls and I feel it vibrate through my chest, and he pulls me in with a grin.
We leave the dishes in the sink for a while—we’ve got better things to do.
The next day, I meet my mom at the entrance to Max’s apartment building. I try to keep my face neutral, but I can’t believe how much she’s changed in only a couple weeks. Thick, black bags mar the skin under her eyes, and her skin has a sallow, yellow color.
When she smiles, her skin stretches and wrinkles around her mouth and her eyes still sparkle with their old energy. She wraps her arms around me.
“You feel thin, Mom,” I say. “Have you lost weight?”
“These treatments make me lose my appetite,” she says. “It’s only been a couple weeks, but the thought of doing this for seven more weeks is a bit daunting.”
“Are you driving all the way here an all the way back every time you have an appointment?”
“What else would I do?” She laughs as I lead her toward the elevator. I press the button for the top floor and the doors open right away.
“Why don’t you stay at my place. I can stay with Max, so you’ll have the whole apartment to yourself. Just until this round of treatments are over.”
She smiles sadly, brushing the back of her hand over my cheek. “You’re so sweet, Naomi. You know I hate the city.”
“I don’t like you driving so much. Didn’t you say the nausea is getting worse?”
“I’m a grown woman,” my mother laughs. “I’ve taken care of myself for a lot longer than you have.”
I squeeze my mom’s hand as the elevator dings open and we step out onto Max’s floor. “I know, but…” I sigh. “Just let me help you.”
“I’m fine, honey.”
We walk into the apartment, and Max stands to greet us.
“Jackie! Uh, Mrs. Rose!” He smiles at my mother, taking a hesitant step forward as if he’s going to hug her. He reconsiders, sticking his hand out and nodding his chin.
My mom laughs.
Cute.
She swats his hand away and wraps her arms around his thick torso. Her head barely gets halfway up his chest, and she looks tiny and frail in his arms. He hugs her awkwardly, stepping back and clearing his throat.
“I made a roast chicken,” he proclaims, gesturing toward the oven. Mom glances at me, grinning.
“Sounds lovely,” my mom says. “And call me Jackie, please.” She smiles at him and then winks at me. My shoulders relax and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
By the time dinner is over, we’ve laughed and eaten until our stomachs are full and our eyelids are heavy. I notice my mother pushing the food around her plate as she eats even more slowly than usual. She looks absolutely exhausted. Max exchanges a glance with me, and clears his throat.
“Why don’t you stay at Naomi’s place tonight? I can drive you there, Naomi can follow with your car. Then if you want, you can head back to the country in the morning.”
My mom yawns, glancing at me and shaking her head. “Fine,” she laughs. “You’ve convinced me. I can’t see far enough to walk to your front door, let alone drive for two hours.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, smiling at Max as my heart grows in my chest. He read my mind—he’s considerate enough to realize what my mom is going through and is willing to help.
We drive Mom to my place and settle her in, and then I get into the passenger’s seat of Max’s car. I rest my head on his shoulder as we drive back to his place.
“My mom likes you,” I say as my eyes start to close.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he says, leaning his cheek against the top of my head. “I was nervous.”
I chuckle, taking a deep breath and lifting my head off his shoulder. I glance at Max’s face as heat spreads across my chest. I’m not used to all these feelings. It’s overwhelming and confusing, but it’s also nice. My hand finds his, and I give it a squeeze.
Tonight felt very real. Maybe the more we say we’re getting married, the more it feels like we will. What happens when this month is up?
Max squeezes my hand back, smiling at me. His eyes are soft and tender, and he looks at me for a long moment before turning back to the road. He lifts my fingers up to his mouth and kisses them softly as I lean back against the head rest.
27
Max
Before I know it, the month is up. I wake up on the morning of the last contracted day of our agreement and turn around in bed to see Naomi sleeping. I brush a strand of hair off her face. She groans, shifting over toward me and laying her cheek on my chest. I wrap my arm around her and sigh, staring at the ceiling.
I’m not ready for this to be over.
I’m not ready to wake up on my own, or to tell the world that Naomi and I aren’t together anymore. Over the past couple weeks, this has felt very, very real.
Too real.
It feels normal to call her my fiancée. It feels normal to hold her hand in public, and to kiss her temple. Going out on dates isn’t an act—I really do like getting to know her. I love spending time with her. I love waking up to her in bed beside me.
She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, looking up at me and smiling.
“Morning,” she says.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I kiss her forehead, and she snuggles into me.
“You okay?” She asks, looking up at me again. She runs her fingers back and forth across my chest.
“Yeah, why?” I answer. How did she know I was upset?
“You seem tense.”
I swallow. “Today’s the last day of the contract,” I answer. She leans her cheek against my chest again and her fingers stop moving.
“Oh,” she says. “That went by quickly. I hadn’t realized it had been a month already.”
“Will you… I want… would you consider renewing the contract for another month?”
She stiffens, and then turns to look at me. Her eyes are wide and she swallows, rolling over onto her back and slipping her hand into mine.
“Yes,” she replies slowly. “But I just… It feels wrong to take your money.”
“I think it’s best if we stick to the contract. I know you were worried about things getting messy, but the easiest way is to just go forward with it. It’ll get messier if we don’t stick with the terms. Both of us, I mean. No matter what is going on between us. Trust me,” I say. “The money isn’t a big deal.”
“Maybe not to you,” she says with a strangled voice. “But to me and my mom it is.”
My chest squeezes. Damn it.
“I know, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that—”
“It’s okay. I get it. I’ll take your money,” she says, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing up. My eyes drift down to her bare ass and a blade of heat passes through me.
I know she’s upset, but I can’t help how my body reacts to the sight of her. She rubs her arms with her hands, shivering. Then, she shrugs into a bathrobe, still not turning to look at me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Uh-oh.
“Naomi?”
“I’m fine, Max,” she says. “I need to get to work.”
“I don’t understand, I thought that you’d be happy to be getting more money. I don’t—”
“It’s not just about money, Max,” she says, finally looking me in the eye. “But I’ll take your money. I don’t really have the luxury of saying no.” She sighs, grabbing a towel from the chair and draping it over her arm. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is messy, but her eyes are bright when she looks at me.
“This is just a really confusing situation. I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.”
I stand up out of bed, walking to her and wrapping my arms around her. I pull her close, running my thumb over her pout and tilting her chin up.
“I’m not pretending.”
“So why go on with this stupid contract? I mean, it’s not stupid. And we’re not actually engaged, and of course I need the money, I just…”
She takes a deep breath.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
I chuckle, pulling her closer to me. “Naomi,” I say gently. She lifts her eyes up to me and a bolt of lightening passes through my chest. “This is real,” I say. It comes out as a whisper. My heartbeat is roaring in my ears and I can hardly hear myself speak.
Her mouth drops open and she nods, her eyes filling with tears.
“It is?”
“Isn’t it?”
She starts laughing, shaking her head and pulling away from me. “We are the worst at communicating,” she laughs. “How about you just give me a shitload of money and I’ll keep pretending to be your fiancée and we can keep dating—or whatever—and then we can revisit this in another month.”
A grin spreads over my lips and I nod. “Deal.”
By the time we’re both ready for work, the awkwardness has passed. I kiss her goodbye on the sidewalk in front of my building.
“I’m taking my mom to her treatment tonight, so I’ll be home a bit late,” she says. Her mom has ended up staying at her apartment full-time, and I’m enjoying Naomi staying at my place. At first, we justified it as keeping up appearances of being engaged, but I think both of us just wanted to spend the time together.
I nod. “Sounds good.” I kiss her again. “See you tonight.”
“Love you,” she says as she starts to turn away, and then her eyes widen. “I mean. God. Sorry. I don’t… I didn’t… Shit.” She shakes her head, staring at the sidewalk next to my foot. “This is what I mean by things being confusing! How am I supposed to pretend to be in love wi
th you all the time in public? And then we act like we’re together in private and I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say, and—”
She only stops talking when I crush my lips against hers. I can feel her pulse hammering as hard as mine is. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me feverishly until we pull away, panting. I rest my forehead against hers, swaying gently from side to side.
“I told you, Naomi. This is real.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “I think… I love you too.”
“Oh,” she says, and then she bites her lip and smiles. “Okay. So I’ll see you tonight?”
“See you tonight.”
I watch her walk away before getting into my car. I can’t keep the smile from my face until I get to the office and see my father waiting for me. He’s sitting in my office, his fingers tented in front of his chest as he waits for me.
I drop my briefcase on my desk and nod to him. “Hello,” I say. “To what do I owe the honor? I didn’t know you were in town. How’s the acquisition going?”
“The acquisition is on track, and the board has approved you as the new director of the international division.” He says curtly.
I sit down, waving my assistant away as she pokes her head through the door. She closes it softly and I turn my attention back to my dad.
“So that’s a good thing,” I respond. It almost sounds like a question. The way my father’s face looks, it doesn’t seem like a good thing at all.
He sighs, pulling a folder out of his briefcase and placing it on my desk.
“It would be a good thing, except for that.”
“What’s this?” I flip the folder open.
“Your little fiancée isn’t who she says she is.”
My stomach drops like a rock, and once again my pulse is thundering in my ears. This time, it’s not from happiness, though. I feel like I might throw up.
Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Page 12