We work our way from the park to the water’s edge, sitting on a large stone wall. He looks at me. “I have a client who’s a judge. I’ve made him a lot of money in the market. I’m sure he could pull some strings for us and get us in tomorrow.”
I sit up, my body tensing while the wind whips through my hair. “Tomorrow?” The shock of it hits me, but I remind myself that this is an arrangement.My scheme even.I guess I thought this would feel more victorious, spontaneously romantic, and less sacrificial to the dreams I’ve carried outside of my career. Guess we can’t all have what Christine and Tagger have. I need to take what I’m being offered. “That’s sooner than I expected, which makes no sense since we go to the Hamptons on Saturday.”
Anyway, I’m to blame. I presented it like a deal he couldn’t pass up. I finally sell him on it, and now reality hits.
What did I expect? Hearts and roses, or we’d be marrying for love? We’ve just started dating, technically. The expectation of this being anything more than financially beneficial for either of us might be the most absurd hope I’ve had. So I kiss finding a soulmate away, and heartstrings and Cupid’s arrow goodbye. This is nothing more than a promotion for him and me keeping my shop for as long as I can.Nothing more.
He replies, “Otherwise, it would have to be next week, but you’re leaving on Sunday.” He stands in front of me, perched high on the wall. He rests his hands on the curve of my knees, and the sincerity in his eyes makes my heart race. Sweet, caring. He’s considerate. He’d do this for me. I hold on to that. “My schedule is double-booked next week.” His voice is lower, and guilt coats his words. “I can’t cancel the appointments, or I would.”
“And the following week is too late. It’s past the deadline.” Baylor’s doing this for me. Sure, there are perks for him, but I could be his girlfriend, and he’d have the same outcome. But for me, I need to be married to make this as straightforward as possible. “Tomorrow, huh?” This feels so fast, much quicker than I could have imagined.
I hold out my hands. When he takes them, I hop off the wall to my feet. “It’s not how I imagined things going, but yes.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll marry you, Shortcake.” His mouth lifts on the right side, but it’s not smirky like usual. It’s asmile that grows and spreads like wildfire across his handsome face.
“Really?” I bounce in front of him.
“But on one condition.”
I plant my feet on the concrete, having no idea what he could want from me to seal this deal. “Which is?”
“I get to buy you a ring.”
Swaying back and forth, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I hadn’t thought of a ring. I just wanted to be married to him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want my wife to have a ring.”
My wife . . .I’m dead. I could roll right into that water after hearing that. Sink to the bottom, never taking another breath, and I’d be happy. Just like that, he makes my heart race again and my head wonderfully spin from swooning. I hold him, grounding myself in him so I don’t melt into a puddle in front of all of Manhattan. I’m marrying Baylor Greene and want to be alive and well for the big event.
Oh. My. God.
We’re getting married.
CHAPTER 25
Baylor
Marriage is a biggerdeal than we’re pretending. As a guy who never thought about marriage much, my shoulders are surprisingly relaxed, my jaw isn’t clenched, and I’m not sweating. Weirdly, I’m okay. Happy even. Can’t say I would be with any other woman, but Lauralee’s different.
I love her.
The admission, even silently to myself, practically knocks me on my ass. Love isn’t something I saw coming. I wasn’t even looking for it. It found me in the time away from her after the festival. The quick calls we’d share at night and the occasional texts were nice reprieves from the chaos of the stock market.But not enough.
I don’t want to be without her. Ironically, I’ll still be without her most of the time. How will we make this work? I want to be married and go to bed with her every night. Not make a call to say good night to my wife. When I say I do, I’ll mean it. When she says it, it’s temporary.Fuck.
The shower turning off alerts me to adjust my pillows against the walnut headboard before sitting up and situating myself. After sending some texts, I set my phone on the nightstand and clock the curtains still open with dots of light speckling the darkness outside. I don’t think about the city watching me anymore, but she’ll be exposed. I hit the remote to close the curtains and give us privacy.
We still have a lot to talk about, but setting that aside, I want to enjoy our time together and lie in bed with her.And other things . . .
“We don’t have to stay married,” she says, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her torso. Freshly showered with her hair piled on her head, she’s tan against the bright white of the material, and her skin glistens with a few drops on her shoulders that she missed. I’ll be happy to take care of those for her with my tongue. “There have been shorter Hollywood marriages than two weeks, so we wouldn’t be the first to change our minds. Well . . .” Her hair bobbles on top of her head when she shakes it. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she rests back on one hand. “Not that we’re changing our minds. More gaming the system to work in our favor. Two weeks tops and then you’re free again.”
“But what if we did?” The way she views this as a merger more than a marriage doesn’t bother me. It’s only come about because of a business agreement. So that makes sense. I can’t fault her when I haven’t been forthcoming with my feelings.
I can talk about myself all day at work, talk shit on the basketball court, and have never minded bragging about myself to other women. She doesn’t want that from me. She wants what’s in my head but also my heart. It’s a big ask. But I’m giving her both without admitting the truth—I’d marry her if she had asked simply because she loves me. I know a good thing when I see it.
“What if we did?” Her eyes widen. “Stay married?”
