by G. Benson
“Where are we going?” she bit out.
If Sam heard the anger in her voice, she didn’t react. “A bar around the corner. Is that okay with you?”
“Fine.”
They walked on in silence. In her pocket, Hayden’s mobile vibrated again. And again.
“Are you going to get that?”
Apparently, it vibrated loudly. Hayden pulled it out of her pocket, and she had to stop herself from smirking. Nine messages. She opened them and felt some of that pressure ease in her chest as she almost laughed out loud. Various messages from what was that about? to are you sleeping with Ice Queen?! to WHAT THE FREAKING HECK IS GOING ON? filled her inbox.
Deciding to enrage Luce further, she typed out a can’t talk, busy and put her phone on meeting mode.
They stopped outside a fairly fancy-looking bar. It even had someone standing out at the front to open the door. Hayden’s face fell. Her teeth started biting at her lip. This was the kind of place that didn’t give out glasses of water from the tap for free.
This was the kind of place that offered your sparkling water from a spring in a mountain Hayden had never heard of that fairies had blessed on a full moon.
“Uh…”
Sam’s eyes were on her. “If you prefer another place, we can go there.”
Hayden had ten dollars in her wallet. That stupid chai had been five bucks at the café the other day, and her bus card had needed a refill when it had rained randomly and made walking not an option. A water couldn’t be more than a couple of dollars, even at a place like this. And she’d just have one. And hope she’d be fine for the next few days. “No. Here’s fine.”
But her cheeks were warm. From shame over having to stress about money or still being too angry to meet Sam’s eye, Hayden didn’t know. The man opened the door, and Hayden followed Sam inside. Jazz music settled over her, and her eyes took a second to adjust. It was brighter than the night outside, but not by much. Small tables decorated the inside, shiny and silver, and booths with black leather lined the walls at the back. It was early for a place like this to be busy on a weekend, but it was already half-full, the murmuring of voices layered in with the sounds of the saxophone that drifted from the speakers.
Hayden, feeling like a sheep, followed Sam over to an empty booth. She slid into one of the seats, the leather supple under her fingers. This was much nicer than the diners and bars Luce and Hayden usually frequented. The clean, polished table didn’t even have any water rings on it. She ran her fingers over it. It was as smooth as it looked, gliding under the pads of her fingertips. When she looked up, Sam was watching her, her head cocked. Hayden quickly lifted her hand away and dropped it in her lap.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re so angry?” Sam asked.
Hayden swallowed. She’d never been good at hiding how she felt. In Drama, her teacher had loved it and told her that all of her emotions simmered at the surface. He’d said it was a great quality in an actor, since she could access her emotions so easily. Sometimes, she thought it helped her as a nurse. Empathy was always right there. However, it didn’t help in other facets of her life. Like this.
But okay. Sam wanted to know? Hayden would tell her. “If this is something we’re going to do, you can’t treat me like you did yesterday.”
Sam’s head actually snapped back sharply, as if surprised by the words. Which made Hayden more frustrated. Was it really so surprising?
“How did I treat you?” Sam asked.
“Rudely.”
“How so?”
Why was her voice so calm? Hayden sat back against the booth. She opened her mouth to speak just as the waiter appeared at the table.
“Good evening, ladies. How are we this evening?”
“Fine.” Sam looked up at him. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
“Of course, ma’am.” The waiter turned to Hayden. “And for you?”
“A glass of water, thanks.”
He tapped it into his tablet. When he’d left, Sam was watching her again.
“Don’t you want something else? It’s Saturday night. I assume you don’t work tomorrow either?”
Hayden shook her head. “I have tomorrow off. I just want water.”
“I’m paying.” Sam seemed to have figured it out way too quickly. “This is part of our deal whether we go through with it or not.”
“That’s—that’s not it.” Liar. “Really.”
“If you insist.” Ugh. There it was again—patronizing. “So, how was I rude?”
“You addressed me as Nurse.”
“You are a nurse.”
Hayden opened her mouth and closed it again. She took a deep breath. “You know my name.”
“Yes. But at that moment, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than that surgery.”
“You could still try a little harder. Especially if you want people to believe this could be something?”
Sam was cocking her head again. “Okay.”
“Well, I—what?”
“Okay. I’ll try to be a touch more, I don’t know, warm?”
Did Sam even know how to be warm? “Uh, okay. Good.”
“Have you been angry about this since yesterday?”
No point in denying it. “Yes.”
The waiter appeared again, putting the drinks between them.
“Thank you,” Sam said. “We’d also like to order a…?”
Those cool, green eyes bore into her again, and Hayden rolled her eyes. “Another gin and tonic, please.”
“Right away.” He disappeared again.
“Hayden.” Her name sounded foreign on Sam’s tongue. Hayden wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. “I’m used to having work be only that: work. When I’m thinking about a patient, that’s all I think of: their surgery and how I’m going to fix it. The ways I can operate to minimize risk. How to achieve the best outcome for them. Also, how to teach the interns and residents on my service what to do to improve.” Her eyes brightened as she spoke about work, something almost excitable that Hayden didn’t know could exist there. “But I’ll try and be…friendlier. You’re right; I have to if this is to be believable in any way.”
“Okay.” That was all Hayden could really think to say to that. She took a sip of her water for something to do, Sam echoing the motion with her own drink. “How do you know Spanish?”
“It’s the most common language in the US after English. I also spent a year volunteering in a hospital in Bolivia and managed to expand the basics I learned in school.”
“Oh.”
“Are you a native speaker?”
“I’m bilingual, I guess. My grandmother preferred to speak Spanish with us so we would learn.”
“Hayden isn’t a Spanish name?”
“Dad won the argument of what to call me since my mom chose my sister Sofia’s name. My middle name is Alejandra, after my grandmother, María Alejandra.”
Her dad had insisted, more than won, apparently. Hayden was the first name of a poet he’d liked. Or so went the story she was told as a child.
“Are you close to your Dad?”
Hayden shifted in her seat. “More or less.”
And that was all Hayden wanted to talk about when it came to her family. Sam looked like she was about to ask more but, strangely, didn’t.
A silence fell between them. The bar was filling up, the noise level rising. The music was still in the background. Hayden wasn’t really one for jazz. She liked lyrics she could sink her teeth into, ones she could belt out and destroy in the shower—better yet, ones she could completely destroy by getting the lyrics completely wrong.
“Did you think about the e-mail I sent you?”
Hayden snapped her gaze back to Sam. “What?”
“The e-mail. About the questions.”
“You mean your patronizing e-mail?”
A smile played at Sam’s lips, and Hayden almost dropped her drink. She actually looked amused.
“It was hardly patronizing.�
�
“Yes, it was.” Hayden jutted her chin out. “It was incredibly patronizing.”
“And how was I supposed to point out that you were avoiding some of the more obvious questions about our arrangement without being, as you put it, patronizing?”
God she was infuriating. Sam crossed her arms in front of her, putting them on the table, eyebrows raised ever so slightly.
“I don’t know.” Hayden shrugged. “Maybe give me a few days to actually think about it and process to come up with the questions? It all happened pretty quickly.”
“Well?” And she was watching Hayden again, her head tilted to one side.
“Well what?”
“You’ve had a few days. Do you have your questions?”
Seriously. Infuriating. “Of course I have.”
“And?”
If she wasn’t careful, Hayden was going to throw a drink in her smug face.
“How do I know you’ll pay me the money?”
“Good question.”
Hayden had a feeling this was what being on Sam’s service would be like. Patronized and painfully poked along a learning curve. No wonder her intern was a jittery mess.
“We can’t exactly make a contract that lays out the steps to this plan, highlighting the marriage as fake,” Sam stated. “I’m not sure what a lawyer would say to that. We could lay out a simple contract that says that after a period of time, I pay you two hundred thousand. Though I’m not sure how admissible that would be. And if it takes more time, what then? Will you take me to court? How do either of us ensure the other will sign for a divorce?”
She had clearly thought this all out much more than Hayden’s panicked nighttime brain had. Not wanting to seem completely stupid, Hayden decided to make the one suggestion she’d thought of. “What about a prenup?”
Something about the way Sam sat back in her chair seemed as if she was satisfied with the suggestion. “Exactly. I think that’s the best option. We get a standard prenup, protecting each of our assets and income.”
Hayden bit back a huff. Her biggest asset was Frank, and she was pretty certain Sam wouldn’t want him.
“However, we put the stipulation in there that at the dissolution of the marriage you receive a one-time payment of two hundred thousand. That way, your interests, and also your assets, are protected, as are mine.”
Hayden was chewing her lip again, but she didn’t bother stopping herself. She wouldn’t even be able to afford a lawyer to look over the prenup. She’d have to read it herself and hope it was valid.
“That seems tight.”
“I think so,” Sam stated in a way that meant she didn’t think, she knew. “We can use this month to ensure this works for both of us and to give time for any more questions. It can also be some time to make it seem like we’re dating before going to the courthouse.”
To get married. ’Cause, you know, that’s what Hayden was agreeing to. Was it hot in here?
“Okay.”
“And I will pay for a lawyer of your choosing to look over the prenup.”
Well, apparently Sam could afford that. “Okay.” Hayden sipped her drink, her teeth protesting at how cold it was. “And I want to know why you’re doing this.”
“No.” Sam straightened, her shirt shifting to cover her collarbones at the motion. “I agreed that you would know eventually, but when I feel the need to tell you. I don’t feel that need now.”
“Fine.”
“Why does it matter?” Sam had an expression on her face Hayden couldn’t place.
“Curiosity.”
“Killed the cat.” Sam ran a finger around the rim of her glass. Apparently, she could get fidgety, even if only slightly, just like the other mere mortals she grudgingly shared this planet with. “Speaking of cats, I’m assuming yours would move in with you.”
Moving in. Hayden did her best to shrug off the weird feeling that induced. She’d only lived with a partner once, and that hadn’t ended well. “Well, he goes where I go. So, yes.”
“Okay. Does he leave the apartment? As my apartment doesn’t really have access to the street.”
“No. He’s a very lazy, happy housecat.”
“Happy?”
“Okay, he’s a very lazy, hates-everything housecat.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.” Sam’s voice was as dry as the gin in her glass, and Hayden bit the inside of her cheek in delight.
“Was that sarcasm?” Completely against her will, Hayden felt a corner of her lips trying to tug up into a smirk.
“Possibly.”
“I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Sam sipped her drink. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
This was going to be the weirdest year of Hayden’s life.
CHAPTER 4
Someone was hitting Hayden over the head with a banana again and again, and it was making a weirdly wooden noise. Was her head made of wood? Or maybe it was hollow.
Everything went silent.
Hayden yawned.
Nope, there it was again. Something started making the banana noise again, but there was no banana, and this time, she was blinking up at her bedroom ceiling. The noise stopped again.
Hayden rolled over, pulling her pillow over her head. The sheets had wrapped around her legs. As she kicked them out of their prison and dropped them back to the mattress, they bumped into a warm heavy shape. One that gave a grumbling growl.
“Sorry, Frank.” Her voice was hoarse, layered in sleep.
He shuffled away from her. That sound happened again. Was that someone knocking at her front door? It was. Insistently too.
“Why?”
Hayden was whining to herself, and she didn’t even care. It was Sunday morning. She had three glorious days off in front of her, including today. She pulled the pillow tighter over her head. The knocking came again, and she flopped onto her back, huffing at the ceiling.
“I’m coming!”
She was going to punch whoever that was in the face. Okay. Maybe not. She was ridiculously nonviolent. But she was going to think about it. She rolled out of bed and used the foot of one leg to push down her leggings on the other after they had apparently ridden up during the night. She gave up after a second of weird wiggling. Why was it so bright?
She squinted around the room. Nothing. She grabbed her glasses that she only wore if she was at home off her bedside table; otherwise it was contacts all the way. At least she could see properly now, even if the world was still far too bright.
As she stumbled out of the room, she tripped while trying to get her legging down again. Her little toe ran right into the closet, and a curse word flew out. Her eyes watered as she finally yanked open the front door, her toe throbbing.
“Luce. What the hell?”
Luce peered around her, and Hayden turned her head to look back into her apartment to see what was so interesting. Everything looked normal. She turned back around to scowl.
“Is she in there?” Luce asked.
“Is who in where?”
Luce narrowed their eyes. They had eyeliner on today, the dark brown of their eyes richer in color. “Don’t play coy.”
Against the doorframe, Hayden spoke though a yawn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t start making the sense, I’m leaving you here and going back to bed.”
“Thomson! Is she in there?”
Oh. Right. And ew. “No.”
Luce looked weirdly disappointed. “Oh. Were you still asleep?”
Hayden looked pointedly down at herself, her leggings and rumpled sleep shirt speaking for her. No doubt her hair was a flyaway mess on top of her head, spilling out of its bun like a fountain. “No. I was having breakfast with the Queen of England.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Of course I was asleep. Why are you here so early?”
Luce smirked. “It’s twelve o’clock.”
“What?”
“Yup. Twelve.”
Hayden grima
ced. “Oh.”
“Can I come in, or do I have to hang out in the hall all day?”
It was tempting to leave them in the hallway. Instead, Hayden stepped back and Luce strode in, collapsing on the sofa in the corner.
“Want a drink or something?” Hayden asked, doing a quick catalogue of what she had to offer. Which was tap water.
“No thanks. Come sit down.”
Hayden flopped next to them, pulling a cushion into her lap and hugging it. Rubbing her eyes, she asked, “Now, why are you here?”
“You’re kidding me?”
“No.”
“You. Went. Out. With. Thomson.” Luce pulled a leg under themself and swiveled to face her. “And then ignored my messages.”
“Your twelve messages.”
“So you saw them.”
Oops. “No…”
“Lies.”
“I was enjoying teasing you. You made it so easy.”
“Hayden…” The last syllable was so drawn out it went on for endless seconds. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Lying. Hayden detested it. To her core. It left a bad taste that coated her tongue for weeks on end. She had a philosophy: don’t lie, because the truth hurts less than finding it out later with the added slap of betrayal. She’d learned that the hard way. Maybe it wasn’t a philosophy. That could be the wrong word for it. But it was definitely something to live by.
“Tell me.” Luce sounded close to whining now.
“Nothing.”
Well, that was an idiotic response. Luce raised one eyebrow—an ability Hayden had always been jealous of; it looked so suave—and watched her.
Nothing else but a solid, judgmental glare.
“Okay, okay, fine.” How to lie but not lie? Omission wasn’t any better. Something twisted in Hayden’s gut. “She just, she asked me to get a drink. I figured why not.”
Okay. A lie, kind of. Not even, really. An e-mail had been sent saying let’s go to a bar. Hayden just hadn’t added any of the extra information around it. Like that she was probably going to get married to her. For reasons Hayden didn’t know, except for her own. And those reasons included a lot of zeros. That even had a number that wasn’t zero in front of them.