Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband (I said Yes #4)

20. Sterling

Chapter twenty

Sterling

S mitty does know no one should call a person before six in the morning, but he does it this morning because he has news. Impossibly good news.

The plan that Weland’s family put forward yesterday, and I scrambled and made mad amounts of phone calls to get everyone working on? It’s not just going to be a thing. It is a thing. In one day, Smitty has worked a miracle. Well, he and a giant team behind him, along with everyone who works for me. The company is safe, and it’s always going to be safe. Yesterday, a new company was created. The team back in Nashville worked into the late hours of the night, changing contracts, and every single artist signed. Smitty’s people made a miracle happen. There’s nothing that can’t work out if you have enough money. I’ve always had a few shell corps sitting around. Smitty just took one and turned it into a bigger one. There were some holdings under each, but this one is going to be airtight.

The people who work for me are now safe.

Every artist making music under our label is now safe.

My company is safe.

Everything I have built and worked so hard for is protected.

Overnight, all those shares my aunt had in her will became valueless.

I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. I don’t know why no one thought of this in the past four years. Granted, not many people knew about it, but I’m shocked Smitty didn’t come up with the idea. He literally said yesterday, and I quote, “ Well, fuck me with a dilly of a pickle and a pine tree. Why didn’t I come up with that myself four years ago?

The tough part is over, but now the even tougher part begins. How do I tell Weland?

I guess the answer to that is I don’t. I roll over in bed after I set my phone on the nightstand and find her propped up on her elbow, watching me. She looks mussed and sunny and highly kissable. She’s clearly a morning person.

“Everything’s going to be okay, isn’t it?” Even her voice is pure, golden sunshine.

It makes my chest ache. I need to get it together here. I nod and throw back the blankets. I’m only wearing my boxers, and I rush to get my clothes on. She slips a robe over her super cute pajamas. The top has a monster on the front, and the bottoms are fries boxes with smiling faces.

“Sterling?” She makes me freeze as I’m about to throw my T-shirt on. I slowly look up and meet her eyes. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

I owe it to her to tell her the truth. “What your parents said makes a lot of sense. I know they only helped me because they wanted you free of me,” I say softly.

“That’s not true. They might not like you all that much, but they don’t despise you. Give them time. They’ll come around.”

“They were right, though.” I stride over, take her hand, and sit her down on the end of the bed with me. Her eyes are so big and luminous. They look like they’re going to fill up with tears, but I hope they don’t. Because that would gut me.

“You’re going to tell me that I deserve someone better, aren’t you?” she mumbles.

“It’s not about deserving someone better.” I sigh, and it feels good to force that air out. “It’s about the fact that we’re married because I needed you to marry me, and you needed money. It was an arrangement that was kind of forced on us both. We didn’t come together naturally, and that’s always going to be hanging over us.”

“So you’re leaving because of how we met four years ago, not what’s happened now? Doesn’t it mean anything?”

I have to let her hand go. I don’t have any right to hold it. But then I take it back up again because I can’t help myself. I need to touch her. She grounds me, and I know that’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do here because what I need to do is set her free to live her own life uninterrupted by me and then leave to make sure my new company runs as smoothly as possible and stays out of danger of any and all nefarious cousins.

As I try to find the words, though, Weland’s eyes start to get shiny. She blinks furiously, but her eyes stay a little bit wet. Jesus, it’s enough to make me get hot in the eyes. I haven’t ever bawled in my entire life, and I’m not going to start now. I’ve spent the entirety of my years basically flying solo, even when I kind of had a family, and I know I can’t let my guard down now. This was a nice break. It could have been something wonderful. Maybe in another lifetime, Weland and I could even have been a family together. Her parents could have loved me, her brother would have been a brother-in-law, and I would have had the family I always craved for. Okay, that last bit is a stretch. A big stretch. However, I’m not entirely shocked at the pulsing in my chest. I know I want that. Who doesn’t want to feel loved and accepted?

Shit. Shit on a stick. I’d really like to know what it’s like to have a mom. And a dad. And siblings.

But Weland deserves the chance to meet someone who doesn’t con her into getting married. She deserves a chance to find her better half. The half that really completes her. She wants to stay here, and she loves her family. She doesn’t want to go hopping all over the globe for business and stuff, and I’m not ready to quit. I don’t want to live in Detroit. My business is in Nashville. Even if we could make this work, it would involve so much time apart, and that’s really not fair to her.

Maybe I’m grasping at straws here. Maybe it’s just because I know I’m not good enough for her. I’m never going to be good enough for her. She’s great, and above all, she needs someone who knows what it takes to be a family. I have no idea when it comes to that. I’m not the piece in her puzzle that’s missing. That person, whoever he is, is still out there.

Is it wrong that I want to find him and make him eat hot peppers until he cries?

Yeah, that’s messed up. I don’t really want to make anyone cry. I don’t. Not even this nebulous, out there, still imaginary at this moment person.

“It does,” I utter. My thumb traces a circle over the back of her hand. Her skin is so soft and silky. “It did. It’s always going to mean something. I think we’re just not…there’s too much…there’s a hundred reasons…I’m not…I just can’t stay, Weland. Not now. Not ever. Not with work. Not with my business. I have to leave now, and I’ll always have to keep leaving. You deserve someone who wants to make a life with you. Right here. I know you’d never want to leave your family. I’m on the road an awful lot, and my business and life are in Nashville.”

Her eyebrows cross, and she looks at me like she’d enjoy tearing off my balls, dipping them in chocolate, and feeding them to me.

She jerks her hand back. “That’s the biggest cop-out I’ve ever heard. If you have to go and take care of things, that makes sense. If you’re scared, that makes sense. If you just don’t like me, that makes sense too. But what you just said…it sounds like a load of bull.”

“Weland…” I sigh.

“Straight up bull.”

“It’s not. Think about it. Do you want someone who is in your life for only a few days a month? A few weeks a year in total? Would you leave here, leave your family, and only be in their lives for a few days a month or a few weeks a year?”

Her frown darkens. If it was an evening frown, it’s not a full-on night frown, and the not-so-friendly night bugs are coming out.

“So why were we even trying to make this work then if that was a concern? If it did work, were you going to give it up? What was going to happen? You knew I loved my family.”

“I didn’t realize how much. I don’t…I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. I was just trying to see if we were even compatible. I didn’t come here trying to seduce you. That wasn’t even the plan. I thought about it so hard last night. I’m sorry if it seems like I just wanted to play with your body or your feelings. That wasn’t my intention.”

“What if we could meet halfway? What if we traveled a little and stayed here a little? I could write songs for you. Or for whoever wants to sing them. Because I don’t. I don’t ever want to be famous. Those videos I made are the last ones I ever want to make. I don’t need the world to see me. I just want you to see me, Sterling. I think we could make it work if you’re willing.”

I hesitate. She’s tearing me apart and tearing me down, bit by bit. My will to leave starts to waver. “Don’t you want to get on with your life? You’ve been suspended in this marriage for four years.”

“So have you,” she argues. “We don’t have to stay married anymore. We don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to that. I’m not saying we should. I’m telling you that you’re freaking out, and you don’t have to. We could work if we wanted to. I know it.”

“What happened to the you have to set things free in order for them to come back to you idea?”

“Don’t throw dad wisdom back at me,” she says with a grunt. Her arms fold across her chest, and I can see the way her breasts swell under her monster shirt. The happy blue fuzzy monster looks like it’s doing a happy blue fuzzy monster dance. If I were sitting on top of Weland’s breasts, dwelling right by her beating heart and a part of her warm skin, the fabric of me gracing her body, I’d be doing a happy dance as well.

“I think I need to leave. We need to get a divorce, and I need to go. There are things with the new company that I need to make sure are airtight and made right.”

“Well, you’re not under any obligation to stay. That’s not how I want you, and I know it’s not how you want me. You’re trying to do the nice thing and set me free, but what if that’s not what I want? Do I want to stay married the way we’ve been? Absolutely not. Do I want to keep seeing if this could work because it felt good, and I actually like you? Yes. Yes, okay, I do. If you feel the same way, then you can leave. You can go and do the things you need to do, but you can come back. Technically, that’s setting each other free. Technically, it’s you leaving. If that’s what it takes and if the dad advice has to be followed, then on all the technicalities, we’ll be doing what we need to do. Traveling? I want to see the world. Nashville? Sounds like an incredible place. The thing is, I write songs. I make music. And you’re in the business of putting songs out into the world. I think it could be a great thing—us partnering together. For us personally and on the business side of things.”

Damn it, she’s making it pretty darn hard to see the benefits of just taking off out of here. I thought I could spare her if I left now. I thought I’d be doing the right thing. Setting her free to live her life feels like the generous, non-asshole thing to do. I’d talked myself into getting a divorce and letting her live her own life and moving on while I live mine. I’d already decided it was the best thing to do on a scale of how to not fuck with her life anymore.

Was I wrong? Am I wrong? It only takes two point seven nine seconds of soul-searching to admit her argument has some validity. It makes a lot of sense. Do I really feel like leaving? No. Do I have to leave? Yes. Do I want to come back here, not for this city but for Weland? Yes. Yes, I absolutely do.

I’ve traveled, I’ve searched, and I’ve gone all over the world. I’ve lived a good portion of my life already. I’ve built a music empire, and I have more money than I know what to do with.

But do I know what family is? Do I know what love is? Not really. And no. No, I don’t. But what if I had the chance? What if I had the chance right now, and I let it go?

Sounds like what every good song is based on.

It also sounds like the exact opposite of what I want my life to be. I don’t want to live one of those regret songs. One of those I had the perfect woman, and I let her go, so I’ll spend the rest of my life aching for her songs. I want to live every cheesy country song instead, minus the pickup truck and the tractor. Or with the pickup truck and the tractor, if that’s what Weland wants.

“Sterling.” She takes my hands, and her eyes fly to mine. “You can go, but for the love of all things cheese, and very few things in life are better than cheese, please come back. I spent four years of my life trying to make sense of this, and now it does. I don’t want it to stop making sense. If you’re not in my life, it’s going to be incredibly senseless. I’m not saying this because I want perks of your cash or because I want you to make my songs famous. I’m saying it because I want you. I want you to kiss me up against the wall while the dog eats our meatballs. I want you to take trips to the vet with me to find the perfect probiotic because the dog’s farts are hot death without it. I want you to take all those death glares from my dad and brother and turn them into something to laugh about one day. I don’t want you to ever sleep on my couch again, and not because we’re putting on a show for your evil cousins. Maybe one day they’ll change. Maybe they’ll come around and not be so evil, although I seriously doubt it, but we can keep the door open and keep hoping.

“Honestly, I want more orgasms because the ones you give are really good. They’re the best kind of good. I want more of you. I want more of your kisses. I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you. Even if it’s not possible every single day, that’s okay. You’re my husband, and even if we get a divorce, and you’re no longer my husband, that’s okay too. I don’t need you to be married to me in order for me to want to spend time with you. I want to keep seeing if this will work because I’ve never in my life met anyone that I felt like it could work with until I met you. I’ve written songs all my life, but you make me want to write songs about you. And that’s a thing because I’ve never, ever written songs about a real guy. Just pretend guys. And I knew nothing about love. I want to do it for real. I want to sing them to you. I want to sing them for you.” Her eyes flood with tears again, and then those big, crystal droplets spill over. “I guess if you don’t see it working, then fair enough. But if you do, then give it a shot. Give every cheesy song lyric a chance to become true for us and then some.”

This time, when her hand lands on my arm, it causes a volley of goosebumps to form. The hairs there prickle to attention and stand up when I shiver. She’s the first person who has ever really looked at me and seen more than the money, more than my job, and more than what I can offer materially. She’s the only person who has looked at me like I’m more than a job, more than a burden, more than a chore, and more than something to compete with.

If I left, I didn’t think I could come back, but she’s amazed me again. She’s given me an option that I didn’t think would be there.

“I have to get back to Nashville. There’s only so much I can do from here. Smitty has sent me everything to sign electronically, but I want to make sure I have all of it taken care of without an inch of leeway before my cousins catch on. Also, I know if I leave and make it public, they’ll follow me back. Of course, Smitty will be here with you, and I’ll have security watching your place. They won’t get to you, I promise.”

“If you leave, the only thing I care about is that you come back. Eventually. When you can.”

“You’ll wait?” I ask.

Her eyes sparkle, and she squeezes my arm. “Of course I’ll wait. But Sterling?”

“Hmm?” I’m not thinking about the company. I know I should be, but it’s hard to focus when I want to think about Weland and all the things I could do to her instead. How she’d smell aroused, how her eyes would darken, and her pupils would get huge, and how I’d be able to make her moan and then lose all the breath it takes to even do that because I’d kiss her until she was breathless. Senseless. Until there was just me for her.

“You owe me a song,” she says.

“A song?” Of all the things in the world, that’s what she’s going to ask for? But it makes sense, given how she’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met.

“Yes. One that we’re going to write ourselves, day in and day out. We’re not going to stop until we’re corny, classic, and cheesy. Isn’t that right?”

“It is.” God, I want to get back here. I don’t even want to leave in the first place. Leaving is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and this is coming from a man who found a fake wife, spent the past four years keeping her a secret from the world, and just started a company overnight. Or rather, moved the old one over overnight. “That’s definitely right.”