He nods. "You're a good negotiator."
"Maybe. I just want to survive this." I bite my lip. "My sister will hate me for lying to her."
"Your sister will understand." He stares at me with big, earnest eyes. "This is for her future too, isn't it?"
It's the first time I've seen him this earnest.
"Does your mother mean that much to you?" I ask.
"She means everything to me."
But lying to her…
Blake is right.
I already agreed to this.
But if he really does need me, I'm the one holding the cards.
I don't know Meryl. I don't know if she'd prefer a comforting lie over a hurtful truth. I have to trust that Blake does know her. That he's making the right choice.
I know my sister.
And she's not going to take lying. "I have to tell Lizzy. I tell her everything or I walk."
He stares back at me. "She's a kid. She'll gossip."
"She won't. And either way, I'm not negotiating this point."
Blake stares into my eyes, picking me apart.
"I want her to meet you. I want you to be friendly."
He nods. "I'll find a break in my schedule."
"Okay." I offer my hand.
He shakes.
Now this is on my terms too.
I arrive home at 3 A.M.
Lizzy is sitting on the couch with a worried look on her face.
"What the hell?" She pulls her phone from her pocket and opens her web browser to a gossip site. "Tech CEO Blake Sterling Engaged to Everyday Girl." She makes eye contact. "Quite the fucking compliment."
"It's a school night," I say.
"I'm not going to school tomorrow. I won't hear the end of it."
She stares at me like she's looking for a crack, something she can use to get me to confess.
I'm back in jeans and a sweater. Most of my fancy clothes are in Blake's apartment. He'll probably want me there soon. Until his mom… I don't even want to think it.
"We don't lie to each other. That's the deal, remember?" she says. "The two of us against the world, because the world is obviously against us."
"Of course." That's what I told her after the accident. When I realized how screwed we were. "It's still us against the world. I promise."
"Are you going to tell me what's going on here?" she asks.
"In the morning. I'm too tired to think straight."
"Kat, now. I'm not going to be able to sleep. This doesn't make any sense."
"In the morning. We'll get pancakes and walk around the gardens."
"I got this today." She goes to the kitchen table and picks up an envelope. "A scholarship from your boyfriend's company. Excuse me, your fiancé's company."
"That's great."
"Kat, you know I'll be happy for you. I'll support you in whatever this is, but only if you tell me the truth."
My chest tightens. That's what I want. Only I also want her respect. And I'm not sure I deserve it. "Okay, I promise."
"How the hell did you get me this scholarship?"
"You earned it."
"Bullshit." She slams the paper against the table. The whole thing shakes, and her glasses fall off her nose. The tough look on her face drops. "Okay, so I'm not pulling this off."
"You'd make a great bad cop." I take a seat at the kitchen table. "He suggested it. Said you'd be perfect for it no matter what, since you're a woman in STEM."
She wipes her glasses on her t-shirt. "I mean no offense by this, really, but did he suggest this while you were on your knees?"
"Really?"
"Really? I'm not the one suddenly engaged to a freakin' billionaire."
My sister thinks I'm a whore. Or maybe I am a whore. I'm fucking Blake because I want him. But the rest? He is buying something from me. Something that shouldn't be for sale. "We have an agreement. It has nothing to do with you."
"So he hasn't been your secret boyfriend forever?"
"No."
"You're not in love?"
"No."
"But you are having sex? I mean, I know you are. You keep showing up with a satisfied look on your face."
"We are. But that's not what he's paying for. I know how it sounds—"
"You don't have to explain." She folds the letter. "You deserve a break, Kat. And he's hot. Whatever he's paying for… I don't care. As long as you're happy. And as long as it's for you."
"It's for us."
Her expression gets serious. "Don't do this for me."
"You already have the scholarship. It's done."
"Kat! Will you fucking listen for a minute?"
"I am."
"No, you're not. I know you're obsessed with solving all our problems, and I appreciate that. I really do. But I'm an adult. I can handle things too. I can find a scholarship. Or take a loan. You've already sacrificed a lot for me. I can't take you giving up anything else."
But… this is for us. It needs to be for us or what the hell is the point of it?
"Kat?"
"Just take the scholarship."
She folds her arms.
"It's done, already. And this is for me too. I quit my job. Now, I'll have time to draw and run and live my life. And I'll be able to finally go to school. You're right. I want a break." Not as much as I want Lizzy doing well, but I do want it. "And I like Blake. I want to get to know him. And to sleep with him."
That gets her smiling. "It's that good?"
"Yes. But we're not talking about that—"
"Oh my God, we so are!" Her smile widens. "Let me see the ring." She takes my hand and stares at the enormous rock. "You know, his company is worth like ten or twenty billion dollars."
"I know."
"They have this side project. A chat bot they're testing on their IM program, to see if it can fool users. It's really cool." She releases my hand.
Figures my nerdy little sister is more interested in chat bots than in my fake wedding. Even if both are imitations of human connection.
"He wants to meet you. You could show him your chess bot," I say. "He loves chess."
Her cheeks flush. "I couldn't. That's like you showing your sketchbook to van Gogh or something."
"You really should go to sleep. It is a school night."
"And I'm skipping. It's public school. I can call in sick for myself. And there's no way I'm sleeping until I get all the details. About this arrangement. And about sex with a hot billionaire." She gets up and turns on the kettle. "You want black or green tea?"
"You can't tell anyone."
"I won't. I promise."
Chapter Thirteen
Once upon a time, before the accident, I would spend weekends exploring the city with my friends. It was exciting just to get out of Brooklyn.
It felt like there was an adventure waiting around every corner.
The last three years, I've been sorely lacking adventure. I work, I read, I play video games with Lizzy.
Whatever happened to what I wanted to do? When I was seventeen, my life was wide open with possibilities. Art school to turn my doodling hobby into a career. A state university to study something practical. English or business, maybe. My best friend, Belle, asked me to take a gap year to travel Europe with her.
It was such an exciting thought. The two of us zipping around Europe, taking in the sights, flirting with different guys in every country. After the accident, all that went out the window. Everything I wanted or needed went out the window. Taking care of Lizzy and keeping us afloat came first.
And now…
I have no idea how to spend my afternoon off. Lizzy and I had a long, chatty brunch, but now she's at work (she refused to quit) and I'm wandering around the park by myself.
I should be ecstatic that the weight around my neck is gone. No more waiting tables. No more mortgage hanging over my head. No more struggling with bills.
I am relieved.
But I'm restless too.
Like I don't have a direction.
What the hell am I supposed to do with my time?
I pull my coat tighter as I lean in to examine a rosebush. Right now, it's all leaves and thorns. It's all the protection and none of the beauty. None of the life.
I'm the same. I've ignored my hobbies, my friends, my dreams. For three years, I've been a machine. Work. Sleep. Taking care of Lizzy.
What if there's nothing else to me?
What if there's no Kat when you strip away the girl desperate to get by?
I close my eyes and try my best to recall a typical week before the accident. School. Homework. Cross-country. I loved losing myself in a long run as the city whizzed by me.
In high school, I took every art elective I could. I was utterly indiscriminate. My parents discouraged art school. Wouldn't pay the bills. But the bills won't need paying soon. I can go to school, get a master's, take a job I love that pays crap. I can ask Belle to give me another chance and pay for a year in Europe.
This money is options.
This money is freedom.
This money is security.
I spend the rest of the afternoon loading up on art books and supplies. The smell of sharpened pencils recalls so many nights spent drawing. I buy one of everything in every color. Markers, ink pens, pastels, watercolors, graphite pencils, acrylics, oils, canvases. Being in the store makes me dizzy. Something about it feels so right.
A call from Blake interrupts my bliss. When I answer, he's all business.
"We're meeting my family tomorrow. I'll send a car to your apartment at four-thirty," he says.
A surge of irritation passes through me. He could ask. He could pretend like he cares that I have my own priorities.
"You're supposed to meet my sister," I say.
"Trust me. You don't want to bring her to dinner. Not with Fiona's mood."
Deep breath. I have to push back to get what I want from Blake. "Then meet her tonight. Come over for dinner."
"I'm entertaining a friend."
Since when does Blake have friends? I bite my lip. No backing down now. "Bring him."
"I'll make reservations for four. Eight o'clock. I'll send a car to pick you up at seven-thirty."
"Good." I'm not sure which of us won that argument. Or if it was an argument. "I'll see you then."
"You too." The phone clicks.
I'm getting what I want, but, somehow, I don't feel victorious.
Lizzy is not impressed by the car service. She sits with her arms folded over her chest, her eyes on the window. "Is all this fuss necessary?"
"It's faster than the subway."
"The subway is better." She stares out the tinted window, her lips curled into a frown. She's upset, yes, but I don't think it's about Blake.
It's something else.
"You okay?" I ask.
"You know I don't like being in a car."
"We can take the subway."
"No. I'll be fine." She squeezes her purse so hard her knuckles turn white.
Lizzy is strong, but she's like me in her inability to admit she needs help. She used to love being in a car. It was a rare treat. But since the accident, she gets quiet and skittish in autos.
I don't blame her—she almost died in the backseat of a car.
But I have no idea if it's a slight annoyance or a crippling fear.
She's silent for the rest of the ride. As soon as she steps onto the concrete, the tension falls from her shoulders. She sighs with relief.
"It looks like a nice place." She nods to the restaurant. "You think the food's good?"
"Probably."
"You think they'll card Mr. Blake Sterling's guests?"
Oh, hell no. I shoot her a death glare. "Not funny."
She laughs. "It's actually really funny. You look like a cartoon character. Like your head is a balloon that's going to pop."
I'm too overprotective. I know that. But she's all I've got. "Don't talk about alcohol at dinner, okay?"
"Why?"
"It's a sore subject. Trust me."
"Okay."
I follow her inside. The restaurant is dark in a romantic way.
I nod hello to the hostess. "Kat Wilder. I'm meeting—"
"Of course, Ms. Wilder. Your party is in a private room." She grabs two menus and leads us upstairs.
The room is impressive—a table big enough for eight people and tall windows that let in the intoxicating mix of sky and steel.
Blake is sitting opposite Declan, the guy I met at the company party. He must be the friend. I guess he's visiting.
Blake stands. "We're fine. Thank you." He takes the menus from the hostess.
She nods and disappears back down the stairs.
Blake offers Lizzy his hand. "Blake Sterling. You must be Lizzy."
"Yeah." She shakes his hand. "It's nice to meet you. About time, really, with you engaged to my sister."
"You can't blame me for wanting to keep her to myself," Blake says.
She shoots me a nice line look. "You can't blame me for objecting."
"No. Anyone would want Kat around." Blake motions to his friend. "Declan Jones. Too much of an ass to introduce himself, apparently."
Declan makes his way to Lizzy. They shake. "Nice to meet you." He turns to me. "And nice to see you again, Kat. I thought Blake was fucking with me when he suggested we invite two more people to our dinner."
Lizzy laughs. "Kat doesn't ever go out with me either."
They share a knowing look at our expense.
Blake pulls out my chair. His fingertips skim my neck as I take a seat. It makes me warm and hot at once. It's sweet and possessive. Affectionate and sexual. But which part is real and which part is fake?
I turn to Declan. "Have you ever met one of Blake's girlfriends?"
"A girlfriend? Blake? No. He's never had one." Declan shoots Blake a wink. "Maybe not even a girl-space-friend. You should have seen him in college. Girls went crazy for him. He was a legend—the kid with the company, the one who ignored female attention. There was a bet in our class. A bunch of women thought they'd be the first to seduce Blake. They'd come up to him with gaga eyes and offer to blow him right in the computer lab."
Blake's cheeks flush red. "It wasn't that explicit."
"It was worse. It got to be a thing—who was hot enough to tempt him away from his work? But no one ever did," Declan says.
Blake is actually blushing. It's amazing. I want to capture his expression forever. I want to draw it in a million panels and a billion portraits.
"I wasn't exactly a monk," Blake says.
Declan laughs. "He can't have you thinking he didn't get laid."
Blake motions to me and clears his throat. "I'm trying to convince her I'm a gentleman."
Lizzy laughs. "Kat is the same with guys. She always thinks they're friendly. There's this waiter who's always flirting with her, but she insists it's just professional courtesy."
"Is that so?" Blake shoots me a knowing look.
"He's just being nice," I say.
"He invites you to meet him after his shift all the time. And he gives you free drinks," Lizzy says. "He's cute too. You should have taken him up on it when you had the chance." She smiles at Blake. "Well, maybe not as cute as your fiancé."
She and Declan share another knowing look.
This is flirting.
I swallow hard.
No way in hell is my sister hanging out with an entitled player.
There's a knock on the door. A waiter steps inside and takes our drink orders. Lizzy sticks with her usual Diet Coke.
I relax into my seat.
This almost feels like a normal dinner.
Blake turns his attention to Lizzy. "Kat tells me you're a programmer."
"Nothing of your caliber, but yes," she says.
"What languages?" Blake asks.
"Work at dinner?" Declan asks. "You have more game than that, Sterling."
"It's fine." This is one time I'm happy to suffer boredom. I want Lizzy and Blake conn
ecting. I want her on board with this plan instead of tolerating it.
"I mostly do Java and Python," Lizzy says. "But I'm learning C++."
Blake leans over, unzips a bag, pulls out a laptop, and sets it on the table. "You want to see any of the Sterling Tech code?"
Her eyes go wide. "Uh, yeah. If you're sure that's okay."
"We'll call it a family secret," he says.
She nearly jumps out of her chair and kneels next to the laptop. "The chat bot has always been my favorite thing."
"Kat told me you're interested in A.I."
"That's like saying a fish is interested in swimming."
Blake smiles.
I melt.
Programming talk slows to a minimum. Blake offers Lizzy an internship for next summer. Declan matches the offer. It takes everything I have not to throw my drink on the floor and scream no way in hell is my sister working with a flirting player, but I manage to keep my mouth shut. The guy is nice. Flirting isn't a crime.
It's a nice dinner. Blake and Lizzy actually seem friendly. And the way he kisses me goodnight… I can feel the affection in it. Some of it is real. He does care about me.
Lizzy waits until we're seated on the subway to talk. She shifts in her seat, still bouncing from her caffeine high.
"I can see why you like him." She takes a slow breath. "But you have to be careful. He'll rip your heart out like it's nothing."
Chapter Fourteen
After another long day I struggle to fill, I take the subway to Blake's building. There's a key waiting for me with the doorman. Apparently, my fiancé is still at work.
I settle into the big, empty room.
The sun is sinking into the sky, casting soft orange light over the den. It doesn't suit the space. The light is warm, inviting, alive. This apartment is sterile. Lifeless. Dull.
It's a beautiful room, but it looks more like a model house than a home. There isn't a single crumb out of place. The tile is shiny, the appliances are sparkling, the floor is spotless.
I settle onto the plush leather couch and fish my new sketchbook from my purse. It's pocket-sized. Well, purse-sized. Perfect for capturing what's in my head. I'm not sure what I'm doing with my life now that I'm not getting by twenty-four seven. This will help me figure out what's in my head. What I want.
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