Wedded to a Wayne: A Finn World Holiday Romance

by R. G. Alexander

“Anyway, what you feared happening to you already happened to me. My plan backfired. Spectacularly. That’s the real reason I moved here.”

  He shakes his head in disbelief and shifts in his chair. “Let me see if I can wrap my head around this. Your parents were okay with your brother handing you off, despite the fact that he got himself into that situation and was using you to get out of it?”

  I lift one shoulder. “They weren’t against it, which was close enough for me. I think my mother was even excited about the possibility of a wedding. They’d given up on me being marriageable years ago. After all, I’m slightly damaged goods.”

  Arush said I wasn’t a whole woman, and I should be happy that someone wanted to marry me.

  “Don’t say that,” Emerson snaps. The look he gives me is apologetic as he lowers his voice. “I’m trying to picture it, but I have to admit, it’s hard. If Hugo, Robert or I had ever tried to tell one of our sisters who to date, let alone marry, the family would have voted to kick us out of the house until we learned the error of our ways.”

  “Not all families are like the Waynes,” I say wistfully. “There’s no voting in the Chahal household. There are traditions. Accepted roles.”

  Roles I never managed to fit into.

  “I think my great aunt was the only one who saw that I was different. Who believed I could be more than a bargain or a burden. After she died, she left me an inheritance and some advice. Part of that advice is why I asked you here today.”

  “Choose your own husband or refuse to marry at all.”

  The memory of those words from her letter gives me the courage to move closer to him, until I’m sitting on the edge of my desk beside his chair.

  “Two birds, one stone,” I repeat the phrase from my email. “We each have problems, Emerson. And I believe the solution is obvious, if you’re willing to keep an open mind.”

  “It’s not that obvious,” he says quietly, but there’s something in his expression that tells me he’s starting to catch on. “Would you mind spelling it out in more detail for the back of the class?”

  Deep breath. “My family isn’t perfect, but my father is well-respected, as are his children. J&T is a company with an untarnished reputation, as am I. Being a forensic accountant, you might prefer to dig through all our financials, personal and professional, yourself for your own peace of mind. If you do, you won’t find a single red flag. I have no criminal record, my credit report is exceptional, I’m involved in multiple children’s charities and I minored in childhood development in college.”

  “Tanisha?”

  I’m fumbling this. I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be. “What I’m trying to say is that, on paper, I’m exactly the kind of person a judge would be impressed by when considering a custody case. If I were your wife—”

  He’s on his feet beside me in an instant, but instead of looking him in the eye, I stare at his handsome cheekbones, and the dimples that aren’t as deep as his son’s, but still distracting.

  “I said I had a proposal,” I finish quietly, wondering if he’ll walk out without being willing to discuss this.

  “You’re proposing,” he clarifies slowly. “After the story you just told me, you’re proposing marriage? To help me with the custody hearing?”

  I place my hand on his arm. “That’s not the only reason. You’d be helping me, too. My being married would break the silence and end the standoff.”

  It might not be what he’s going for, but his scowl is fiercely attractive. “What? Your family is pissed that they don’t get to pick your husband, but if you do it, all’s forgiven? As long as you’re married, they don’t care how it happens?”

  My expression must say it all.

  “I’m right? Jesus, I was joking.”

  His tone makes my eyes narrow and I drop my hand. “What part of traditional aren’t you getting here?

  “Yeah, well there’s traditional and there’s… You’re not an object to be bartered, Tanisha. Not to mention the fact that they put you in an impossible position and lost the right to have any say in what you do. You shouldn’t care what they want.”

  “But I do. And if it was your family, you would, too. Our marriage would allow me to reconnect with my parents and my younger brother. And,” I continue doggedly, “I would be helping you, which is something you need, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  He’s so tall he can’t help but tower over me, but it’s when his gaze drops to my mouth that the bottom falls out of my stomach. “Do I need your kind of help, Ms. Chahal? I have a good lawyer. A good reputation of my own.”

  I swallow hard, trying to keep my pulse under control. “You have an excellent lawyer. And if you asked him, he’d agree that marriage to me would go a long way toward solidifying your case. And I have the money to drag things out for the foreseeable future, which is, I’m sure, what your ex-wife’s lawyer would tell her right away.”

  My lips part on a silent gasp when he cups my shoulders carefully in his big hands. It feels more intimate than it should.

  “You shouldn’t be suggesting this at all,” he growls. “You of all people.”

  “Me of all people?” I tilt my head to meet his gaze. “What does that mean?”

  His grip on me tightens. “It means you’re a smart, beautiful, successful woman. You haven’t hit thirty and you’d be fine if you woke up tomorrow and decided to retire. There aren’t a lot of people in the world who can say that, who did that practically on their own.”

  “And yet my family still won’t answer my calls.”

  His nostrils flare and he looks like he wants to shake me. “They’ll come around. But even if they don’t, you would still have the freedom to choose. Don’t you want to wait until you fall in love to get married, instead of legally binding yourself to someone you’ve basically known for about a month? Someone with two children from a previous marriage who will always be the priority?”

  “They should be your priority.” I try to shake him off, but his grip is solid, so I stick out my chin defiantly. “Which is exactly why you need to consider this. Consider how you’d feel, how Lang and Barry would feel, if you didn’t do everything possible to stop them from being taken from you. They should be with you, Emerson. Everyone knows that.”

  Anger and something I can’t name flares to life in his eyes. “You believe that so much you’d marry me to make it happen?”

  I lick my lips, tasting strawberry and trying to formulate coherent thought, despite his touch and penetrating gaze. “I wasn’t planning to marry anyone at all before my brother’s old school misogyny got turned up to eleven. The idea of waiting for someone who may or may not show up to sweep me off my feet seems antiquated. And freedom to choose is exactly what I’m trying to exercise right now. I’d like to choose not to be exiled from my family while still having a say in my own future, and this is the best way to make that happen.” I shrug, supremely conscious of his thumbs making light circles on my shoulders. “And… I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Emerson. Our lunches together, our emails, have led me to believe we have more in common than most. I admire you and your family and care about your children. If I can help you keep them close, I would want to do that. Marriages have been built on less, and it’s a better option than either of my current alternatives.”

  He's still searching my face as if to find some truth I’m still hiding from him. “This is crazy, Tanisha.”

  I manage to move away from his touch, turning toward the desk to pick the folder. I hold it out to him. “Before you say that, or make your final decision, at least look at the agreement I put together. I’m not sacrificing myself like a martyr. And I’m not trying to trick you or trap you. I’ve even added an option to limit our arrangement to a suitable twelve-month period, following the hearing, which would still achieve both of our aims.”

  “Limit?”

  Is he glaring again? “Think about it tonight before making a definite decision. Talk to your lawyer, or mine, if you need to. The
ir numbers are in the file and they’re expecting your call.”

  “Why tonight?” he asks with a frown.

  I sidle around him and move toward the door with my shoulders back and head high, determined to maintain my dignity until he leaves. “If you agree to this, the sooner we make it official the better as far as the optics are concerned.”

  “Right. The optics.” He might be in shock. I suppose I would be too, if this hadn’t been my idea and I hadn’t been putting it together for over a week now.

  I open the door and he stops right beside me, immovable until I look up into his eyes. “I hope I’ll be hearing from you soon, Emerson.”

  He leans down as if to kiss me and I freeze in surprise. At the last moment, his lips graze my cheek instead. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you, too.”

  When the ding of the elevator’s arrival takes him away, I’m still leaning heavily against the doorframe, trying decipher his words.

  Did that past tense mean “So long, crazy lady?” or “I’ll think about it?”

  I touch my cheek, hoping it’s the latter.

  You are still keeping secrets.

  It’s not a secret. He has to know I wouldn’t be offering this if I didn’t admire him as a person. And it’s not a stretch to think we’re similar enough that we could live together. That we might complement each other. I’ll admit the idea of seeing him every day over the breakfast table isn’t the worst thing I could imagine.

  I wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d tried to kiss me.

  You think he’s sexier than Winston Duke and you want him.

  That isn’t a lie.

  Yes, I know. You can laugh if you want to. I just called a business meeting to convince a man to marry me. He’s not a broke scoundrel, but he is a single dad with a troublesome ex.

  Tani Chahal, your feminist card called. It wants you to lose its number.

  “That’s Tani Cliché Chahal to you.”

  Chapter Two

  Emerson

  I was working my way up to asking her out.

  That’s the thought I keep returning to as I sit in my home office and pore over the folder Tanisha put together for me. This is not how I thought I’d be spending my evening.

  Why am I looking at it at all? I can’t consider this. It’s ludicrous. Insane. I should shut this file and chalk it up to momentary madness on the part of a good woman suffering from her family’s emotional blackmail.

  Her brother tried to marry her off to an old man.

  When I realize I’ve crumpled the paper in my hand, I force myself to relax my fist. As a brother myself, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on hers right about now. I could teach him some manners, and maybe fill him in on what year it is.

  But isn’t she trying to do the same thing? Marry herself off to me?

  I know this sort of things still happens all the time. For some cultures, some people, it’s considered normal. Arranged marriages have been going on far longer than love matches, but her story still makes my blood boil.

  My first marriage wasn’t ideal, but at least we’d known each other for a while. We made the decision together, without family interference. It was a quick one, based on a defective condom, but I still think it was the right thing to do. Langston will never be a regret.

  But this situation is different. Tanisha is different, and she deserves more than some detached transaction, whether it’s her choice or not.

  Anyone who’s ever spent a moment in her company would know she’s worth more than this.

  I grimace as my pride takes a dent looking down at her financials. Literally and figuratively.

  Damn.

  It’s a fact that the courts are less likely to give sole custody to a single father. And because I was an idiot who gave in too easily with our last shared custody arrangement, the hoops the lawyer described me having to go through were substantial enough to have me talking to Jae in the first place.

  I met the nanny when he, pub owner Seamus Finn and I took our kids to the indoor water park this past summer for the annual Waterslide Olympics. The boys enjoyed it, and the activity was structured enough that it gave the adults a chance to hang out on the sidelines while our kids wore themselves out. Jae impressed me with his wit and obvious affection for his charge, as well as his loyalty to J&T Nanny Placement. He couldn’t say enough about them.

  Tanisha’s partner, Joey, had sent Jae to help with young Zach after his father was injured in a fire. It was a favor for the Finns, who I knew were far more used to doling those out than receiving them.

  When I first received the summons for family court with a hearing a few months from now, I was tempted to ask for a Finn favor myself. I genuinely admire the family that half of my siblings have now married into. There isn’t a better man than police chief Solomon “Younger” Finn, and Seamus is an admirable father and entertaining companion. But over the years I’ve gotten the feeling there’s been some rule bending going on with a few of their significant others.

  Ken Tanaka for example. He works with the government at times, and I can’t deny his skills with a computer, but there have been episodes where he’s gone around the law in service to the people he and his fiancé, Brady Finn, care about. I’m grateful for what he did for Bronte and William, but I won’t deny it makes me wary. I’ve got kids to think about, and the work I do is used in litigation enough that I’d rather not give anyone cause to doubt its probity.

  And so I talked to Jae instead, because my lawyer mentioned that, in lieu of a wife, a reputable caregiver on hand for the boys would look better to the courts than a varying schedule based on extended family availability.

  In lieu of a wife.

  No.

  Then Tanisha Chahal sent me an email, the first of many we’ve been exchanging on a daily basis. I’ve never refreshed my browser so much in my life, but I wasn’t lying. I like talking to her. I’ve enjoyed our lunch meetings, with and without my boys in attendance.

  At first, I wanted her to meet them so she could get to know their personalities beyond the questionnaire and find them the best possible nanny for our needs. But those lunches quickly became something more.

  They liked her. Barry isn’t a surprise. He was born with an open heart, and at ten, he’s still willing to befriend anyone who gives him the opportunity. Langston, on the other hand, has always been more suspicious and standoffish with people outside our immediate family. Like me. I know part of it has to do with his being older and remembering more of the arguments I had with Ro.

  But Tanisha won them over from the start, simply by being herself. She talked to them without condescension, and they responded. After the first day, Barry thought she looked like a princess, and Lang was equally enthralled. Their reactions only enhanced my own admiration for the lovely and efficient woman.

  I look down at the paperwork again. She is efficient. Organized. Thorough. She’s even sent a copy of her medical records along, which makes me uncomfortable since I’ve never been one to invade anyone’s privacy.

  The agreement itself is exceptionally detailed and legally sound. It’s a very solid prenup that covers nearly every concern I could come up with if I were taking this seriously.

  Is that what I’m doing here?

  Yesterday, I was planning to ask her out for dinner, just the two of us, to talk in person the way we’d only ever done in emails. About our likes and dislikes. Our favorite music. What we want for the future.

  A date.

  I’ve been attracted to Tanisha since we met. I think about her at random moments during my day. And a few nights when I haven’t been able to sleep, she’s come to mind as well.

  More than a few.

  Is that why I’m still searching through this folder? Because so far, I haven’t seen anything that addresses one particular issue that’s been on my mind for weeks.

  In every other aspect, Tanisha has been very thorough, which begs the question, why was this left out? Why isn’t there an entire page with subsections
and appendices on the subject of what comes after the marriage ceremony?

  Sex. There’s nothing in here about sex.

  There should be something, shouldn’t there? Even if it’s only a single line that asserts there won’t be any, and it’s off the table. And don’t even ask.

  Is it on the table?

  I type out an email before I can stop myself.

  To: Tanisha Chahal

  From: Emerson Wayne

  Subject: Relations

  Would appreciate a lunch meeting tomorrow to discuss a certain omission in the agreement. How do you feel about enchiladas?

  I hit send and instantly question my sanity. I am known for thinking before I act. Teased for it by my family. After Ro, I’ve been even more cautious when it comes to dating and intimacy. But based on this email, there can be no doubt where my mind has gone. Or that I’m thinking about this, even though I told her it was crazy.

  It’s not an irrelevant question. Not once in her office today did she call her proposal a pretense or imply that it would be an in-name-only arrangement. Only that there was an optional no-fault escape clause after a year.

  A year of living under the same roof with Tanisha Chahal. Of seeing her sleep-rumpled and soft in the mornings. Of talking to her every day. Being close enough to touch her.

  She smelled like strawberries, citrus and spice.

  I tug on the fabric of my uncomfortably tight pants and adjust myself in the chair. It’s been a while for me. But even if it hadn’t been, Tanisha is the kind of woman who would make me impatient. Restless. If she says no, it would be one hell of a hard year, in more ways than one.

  From her shimmering lips to her flowing skirts, she is pure, undiluted female. Her skin reminds me of honey. Golden and warm and mouth-watering. I feel like a giant brute beside her. Strong. It’s good for my ego, I’m not going to lie.

  But she stomped it back down to size again with her bank account, credentials and the courage it took for her to approach me with this in the first place.

  It’s something for the history books. She proposed to me in her office over spiced tea. Chai. That’s not something that happens to a man every day.