“How would you feel about getting married?”
Chapter Twenty
Her reaction isn’t at all what I expected. There’s no surprise or even laughter. Instead her face takes on a look of pure animosity. She keeps her arms crossed and her eyes turn to slits.
“If you’re worried about Stuart, rest assured that any man that I date will be thoroughly vetted, Archer. Not that it’s any of your business who I decide to date or marry, mind you.”
Now it’s my turn to play catch up. I realize she has no idea I’m talking about marrying me. Of course she wouldn’t, the idea stretches the bounds of reality even in my own head. I might as well have suggested she jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.
“I know you don’t think much of me or my friends but that doesn’t mean—”
“To me.”
She stops cold, immediately getting my meaning just from those two little words. She has that sense of calm that precedes the storm of surprise from someone who isn’t quite sure they’ve heard what they’ve heard.
“Is this some sort of joke or test or something? Because I don’t find it funny, Archer.”
“It’s not a joke, Simone. Not if you want to maintain guardianship.”
She shakes her head and closes her eyes, trying to process my suggestion.
I just wait.
When she opens them, she stares hard at me as she works her jaw. “You’re going to have to do better than that by way of explanation.”
“Perhaps this discussion is better had somewhere besides the hallway outside of your apartment.”
She looks away, considering. “I should really bring my friends in on this. They’d—”
“We can,” I interrupt. The last thing I want is her friends butting in. “But at least let me give you all the details first. I think it’s important that we, as Stuart’s current guardians, discuss this by ourselves for now.”
If I play this right, I may be able to tap into her emotions enough to block any resistance from anyone else.
Her eyes are still giving me that wary look and I work to keep my expression amicable but not suspiciously so.
“Well, there’s a Starbucks just down—”
“No public places. Let’s go to my place instead.”
She gives me an incredulous look. “I haven’t said ‘I do’ yet, Archer.”
I roll my eyes.
“It’s about as private as can be. It’s either that or my office. My place is closer.” And plays right into the public image we need to start creating. Let my mother’s people catch me escorting her up to my place for a little rendezvous.
“So what’s the deal, Archer?” she asks in the seat next to me in the car.
“When we get to my place,” I say, nodding in the direction of my driver in front of us. I don’t trust anyone at this point.
Simone turns to look at the driver then rolls her eyes. She gives an exasperated sigh and turns to stare out her window as we continue to drive in silence. I do the same, watching the street go by on my side.
I wonder how many real marriages look exactly like this, two people with nothing to say to each other and a wall of animosity built up between them. Based on the couples that I know, quite a few.
It’s a firm reminder of why I’m still very much single.
Chapter Twenty-One
Simone takes a curious look around as I let her in. I’m annoyed to notice, after the initial look of awe that overtakes everyone who sees its size and amazing views, she doesn’t seem all that impressed. Considering how much I paid the decorator, I expect a bit more of a reaction.
“Would you like a drink?”
She turns to me and wrinkles her brow. “It’s eleven o’clock.”
I just stare at her without remark, then walk over to the bar and pour myself a finger of whiskey. I have no such scruples when it comes to a good stiff one, especially with what I’m about to propose—so to speak.
She purses her lips judgmentally as I carry my drink back toward her and lead her to the dining table that I don’t think I’ve used once, at least not for its intended purpose. Like the rest of my apartment, it’s sleek and black, seating eight. I don’t know that I’ve had eight people in my apartment at one time, let alone at this table. My meals are usually ordered in at the office, or hastily devoured at the kitchen island.
“Are you sure you don’t want to check for bugs first?” she says tartly, leaning in to cross her arms on the table.
“Very funny,” I say dryly. “Why don’t we just get down to it?”
She gestures with her hand, encouraging me to continue.
“My mother has also sued me for guardianship over the estate. My attorneys tell me that she has a fairly decent chance at winning both suits.”
That gets her attention, just as I knew it would. She straightens up in her seat and is just about to argue before I continue, twisting the screws just a wee bit more.
“She has experience raising children,” I manage to get this part out without the hint of sarcasm I’m longing to apply, “so experience and, frankly, age are on her side when it comes to you.”
“But she—!”
I put my hand up to stop her. “I’m just stating facts here Simone. Frankly, I don’t really fare much better. Yes, I run a billion-dollar company, but she has her own business as well. Any court will look at that, combined with her experience as a mother and business owner and start taking her claims very seriously.”
“But Bette and Kevin chose us!”
“That may not be enough.” I lean in and give her a questioning look. “Do you really want to risk it?”
“So marriage is your solution?” she asks with a laugh.
“Right now, my mother is taking a page from the oldest playbook on earth, divide and conquer. You have me beat when it comes to being a parent, I have you beat when it comes to finances. If we combine our efforts then…”
“I don’t know, Archer…” she says turning to stare out the window. She turns her attention back to me. “Can’t we just…live in the same place together or something?”
“Trust me, that was my first thought. Apparently ‘shacking up’ doesn’t sit as well with the court, and may even hurt our chances.”
Her head tilts to the side acknowledging that point.
“But any court will have to see what a sham this is won’t they?” she gives me a look up and down with mild distaste as though pointing out what an undesirable husband I’d make.
“People fall in love every day, Simone. What better way to bring two people together than the emotional tug of lost loved ones and the mutual care and concern of their beloved nephew?”
She exhales in disbelief. “Wow, you really are a cynical son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“I’m a practical son of a bitch. And right now you need to be practical as well, Simone.”
She falls back in her chair and stares out the window again. “If we did this—and there’s a very big if there—how long would we have to be…married for?”
“Weeks? Months? At least until she either takes us to court and fails, or gives up the fight.”
“And then what, just get a divorce? Won’t that look suspicious?” She looks at me doubtfully.
“That will probably be even more credible than the marriage itself. Couples get divorced all the time for all sorts of reasons, or no reason at all.”
She just quirks one side of her mouth into an unamused smile and looks away. “Married and divorced before I’m even twenty-six.”
“Think of Stuart,” I urge.
“I am, it’s just…marriage? It may not mean anything to you, Archer,” she gives me a snide look, “but it’s a big deal to me.”
I feel my impatience beginning set in. How can she get sentimental over this silly nonsense when so much is at stake? I thought surely bringing up Stuart would push her right across the line.
“Do you want an engagement ring or something?” I ask with exasperation.
“Absolutely not!” she says with such vigor that I actually flinch. “We’re going to do the absolute minimum necessary to pull this off. That means no engagement ring or big fancy wedding or honeymoon or whatever.”
“Honeymoon?” My eyebrow ticks up with amusement at that, then a grin comes to my face when I see her look away with embarrassment.
“That’s all perfectly fine with me,” I say. “Ideal in fact.”
“I’m sure. Heaven forbid you actually be romantic.”
The insult doesn’t bother me at all, apt as it is, especially since she seems to be talking “when” not “if.”
“We would have to make it convincing all the same. So there does in fact have to be some sort of…ceremony, and wedding rings I suppose,” I continue.
“A courthouse wedding, period. As for a ring, don’t go out of your way. Like I said, the absolute minimum.”
“Again, fine by me,” I say pleasantly. “Now, as for our living situation, obviously you two should move in here. I have three bedrooms and—”
“Here?” she interrupts, looking around skeptically.
I hold back a sigh of irritation. Why is this woman making this so damn complicated!
“Well, we could always live in your one-bedroom apartment I suppose,” I offer, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
She gives me a hard look. “We’d have to re-decorate.”
“What?” I respond with genuine surprise. “Why? What the hell is wrong with the way it looks now?”
“It’s like fifty shades of gray in here, Archer, and not in the fun way.”
I look around the apartment. “I suppose it’s a little sophisticated for a five-year-old.”
“It’s cold and dark and depressing. Frankly, it’s like living in a mausoleum. It’s no wonder you’re such a sourpuss, living in a place like this.”
“Fine, I’ll let you redecorate. Happy?” I say, throwing my hands up in the air.
“I suppose, but how much?”
“Does two million sound good?” I say. That amount is nothing to me and I can always bring this place back around to its “mausoleum” status once she’s gone.
She just blinks at me. “I was actually asking how much I was allowed to redecorate but…okay.”
“You can turn this place into fucking Candyland for all I care, we just have to get the ball rolling on this as soon as possible.”
She nods then takes a breath. “We’d have to get prenups.”
I actually laugh. Obviously, my very first concern was a prenuptial agreement, but I certainly wasn’t going to lead with that. I am happy to see her be the first to bring it up.
She just gives me a disparaging look. “You’re not the only one with assets, Archer,” she snaps.
I stop laughing and give her a conceding smile, not wanting her to backtrack now that I’ve got her on board. “Of course not, Simone.” Even I can hear the patronizing tone in my voice.
“Do you know I made over one hundred thousand dollars from my blog last year?” she asks leaning in toward me with a smug look on her face.
“Really?” I ask, my brow lifting in surprise. It’s peanuts compared to my average client, but certainly more than I would have figured for a silly little blog.
“Yes, really. Maybe I should be fighting you for guardianship of the estate.”
I lean in with a patronizing grin. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Simone.”
She glares. “You know what, just forget it. I can’t believe I was actually considering—”
Shit!
“Wait, wait,” I say putting my hands up apologetically. “I’m sorry, okay?”
She settles back into her seat grudgingly.
“Can we just step back to five minutes ago?”
She crosses her arms and waits.
“We do this and we do it convincingly. Prenup for both of us. Courthouse ceremony, simple wedding bands, just two witnesses. We’ll live here. I’ll let you decorate at will. When the dust blows over, a quick and easy divorce and we both go our merry ways.” I purposely leave off the part where I subsequently file for guardianship.
“We can’t tell Stuart the truth.”
“Pardon?”
“He has to think that we’re actually married for real. That means you have to be, at the very least, nice to me.”
“I think I can manage that.”
“Can you?” she asks raising a cynical eyebrow.
“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of, Simone.”
“I’m sure.”
“So are we getting married or not?” I say, getting impatient again.
“Very romantic,” she says sarcastically. “For future reference, that isn’t how a woman wants to be proposed to.”
“Would you prefer I was on bended knee?” I say just as sarcastically.
She gives me a look as though she’s actually considering it. Then she huffs out a short laugh and shakes her head.
“Forget it. But in answer to your question, Archer, no, I won’t marry you.”
The response runs right through my brain on automatic, not stopping to give it a chance to register. Then it comes to a screeching halt, scrambling to reconfigure all my assumptions based on how agreeable she’s been so far.
“What?” I actually shoot out of my seat in angry surprise.
“I said no,” she says, sitting there perfectly calm.
“Listen Simone, I don’t think you quite grasp the severity of what’s at stake here.”
“I grasp it quite perfectly, thank you,” she says, her eyelids heavy with the cool, resentful look she is giving me. “Tell me something, Archer, why are you so anxious to go through with this? It must be pretty important for you to actually propose marriage as a solution. I’m under no illusion that Stuart actually means that much to you.”
I open my mouth to argue but she stops me with a raised hand.
“Let’s not start lying now, Archer,” she gives me a pert smile. “After all, marriages are based on trust.”
I recover my calm and settle back into my chair. “Of course I care about Stuart. Why else would I suggest this idea?”
She scrutinizes me. “Is it him you care about, or having control over him that’s most important?”
She has a more cunningly observant mind than I would have ever figured her for. I take a moment to respond. “Just because I don’t show the same smothering affection that you do—”
I watch her face become inflamed at that and it sends a delicious rush of satisfaction through me. She opens her mouth to argue, but now it’s my turn to put my hand up to silence her.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t care for him. Of course I do. He’s Kevin’s son and my nephew. Am I going to lie and say that potentially losing control of the estate isn’t important to me? You obviously know me better than that, so yes I care about losing guardianship over the estate.”
I lean in closer to her and hold her gaze in mine. “In the end, it all boils down to the same thing. My having guardianship over the estate is the best possible solution for him, just as you having control over his person is.”
Never mind that I fully intend on wrenching that guardianship away from her before the ink is dry on the divorce papers. Right now, I need her on my side.
She leans in on her elbows and eyes me for a good, long moment. “In that case, yes, Archer. I will marry you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Married?”
“Yes, Sweetie,” Simone replies.
We’re back at brunch again. We had to speed through the legal process of getting the prenuptial agreements created and signed. I obviously had my own attorneys at the ready. Simone used an old attorney friend of her father’s. In the end, each document was thorough and precise: we both leave the marriage with everything we brought into it. When we finally end this farce, it should be a nice clean break.
Then I can go back to Plan A: obtaining guardianship of Stuart.
I’m happy to let her do the
talking with Stuart. I have no idea how to break this new development to him and she seems to be doing well enough.
Stuart presses his lips down on his straw and sucks long and thoughtfully on his chocolate milk as he looks back and forth between the two of us.
“Like Mummy and Daddy?” he asks, pulling away from the straw.
Simone’s smile freezes. I wait, but no answer is forthcoming.
“Just like your mom and dad,” I say stepping in. She flashes a brief almost hateful look my way.
I don’t see what the issue is. After all, she’s the one who wanted us to maintain this happy marriage facade.
Stuart sucks on his milk to absorb that. He gives us both another considering look as though he’s not buying it, but he can’t quite figure out why. He’s more intuitive than I would have thought a five-year-old could be.
On an impulse, I reach across the table and take Simone’s hand. She instinctively flinches and blinks her eyes at me. I just squeeze my hand as a hint and she plants a smile on her face, playing along.
“The good news is, you both get to live with me in my much larger apartment. This means you get your own room. How would you like that, Stuart?”
He raises his eyebrows at that.
“And Uncle Archer has allowed us to decorate it any way we want,” Simone chimes in, finally coming back on board
Now his eyes are wide with sudden interest. “Can my room be Batman?”
“Of course!” She says cheerily.
I suppose it could be worse. I’m already shuddering at the prospect of what Simone has planned for the rest of the apartment.
“Okay,” he says, returning to his attention back to his chocolate milk.
We both stare at him, waiting for more, then we turn to look at one another.
Our expressions are probably saying the same thing to each other: Well, that was easy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You realize that this is just a courthouse wedding right?”
I’m with CoCo and Stuart in a room at the Ritz while the “bride” gets ready in another suite with Vanessa. I was perfectly content to wear my usual suit and tie and be done with it. Her friend has other ideas.
Archer~Ex-Bachelor_Ex-Club Romance Page 10