“Who is that woman?” She walks over to the sliding glass doors to get a better view, and I’m silently wishing Camila didn’t looksogood in her swimsuit. It further complicates things.
“Uh…” I could lie here, say that Camila is Shanna’s old college roommate. It’s tempting, but in the end, I’m honest to a fault. “That is”—I place my hands on my hips, figuring it’s best to just come out with it—“my wife.”
My mom whips around, disbelief covering her face. “Yourwife?”
“What do you mean your wife?” Now my dad stands and walks to the window, getting his own glimpse at Camila.
“I married her.”
“In Vegas?” My mom can barely keep from tearing up.
“Well, I’ll be.” Dad fidgets with his belt buckle. “You finally eloped with Shanna, did ya?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“That’s not Shanna, Bart!”
“I need my glasses,” he says, going back for another look. “Who in Sam Hill is that?”
Both my parents turn to me expectantly.
“Her name is Camila Jiménez, and we’ve been married for five and a half years.” They don’t say anything, so I just come out with the rest of it. “We got married for money. She needed a husband to get her inheritance from her estranged father, and she offered to pay me two hundred thousand dollars if I would agree to marry her for six years.”
A deep V forms between my dad’s brows. “You’re a gigolo?”
“What, no? Why would you?—”
“Bart!” My mom slaps his arm, appalled.
“He said he got paid to marry her. What other conclusion is there?”
“I’mnota gigolo. This was purely a platonic business arrangement.”
“Hess, how could you do this?” Now there are full tears in my mom’s eyes.Tears.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
My dad’s stern expression matches his biting tone. “Entering into a marriage for money seemed like a good idea?”
“Well, yeah. How else was I supposed to get the money to start my business?”
He throws his arms up. “I told you I’d loan you the money.”
“I didn’t want your money.”
“But marriage?” A full tear trickles down my mom’s cheek, breaking my heart as it rolls. “Marriage is sacred and special.”
“Real marriage is sacred and special, but this wasn’t real. It was a business agreement. We haven’t even spoken in five and a half years.”
“If you haven’t spoken, then why is she half-naked by your pool?” My dad gestures outside.
“Shanna found out about the fake marriage and told on us. The judge decided that our marriage wasn’t in”—I use air quotes—“good faithand?—”
There’s a squeak from my mom. “Sentenced you to jail?”
I rub my forehead, summoning patience. “No, he suggested we live together for six months and undergo marriage counseling before he makes a declaration on our case.”
Another gasp from my mom. “So she lives here?”
