Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
SPENCER
W ith a frown, I stared down at the gold band stark again the marble countertop. My finger reached for it, but before I touched it, I turned my attention to the fogged mirror. With each swipe of my hand, my reflection became clearer, but I saw a man I didn’t want to see.
I saw a man clinging to the sham of a marriage because it made things easier.
I flicked my gaze away from my own face. I’d known the score when I’d married Louise. She needed a husband on paper to claim her inheritance, but she hadn’t wanted any entanglements.
And I’d been more than happy to provide it in exchange for being left out of any necessary social functions.
People were not my jam. That’s why I’d created a fantasy world where I could disappear for hours.
My marriage to Louise had put an end to those pesky questions, blind date set-ups, and of course, the incessant flirting from women looking to land an easy life with a self-made billionaire.
With the gold band on my finger, I didn’t get that anymore.
Maybe I could hang on to the ring after our divorce.
With a sigh, I shoved it onto my finger and finished my morning routine. As I pulled on my favorite blue blazer and adjusted my sleeves, an idea popped into my mind.
It curled the corners of my lips.
Louise wanted her freedom, but she wanted to saddle me with someone new. I knew her well enough to realize that this was just guilt. She was hoping to find love, and so she planned to project her desires onto me.
Well, I was going to return the favor. If she was determined to find love, I was going to make sure she did.
I left my bedroom behind, heading downstairs towards the kitchen. Louise sat at the breakfast bar, her high heels hooked over the rung as she stared into her coffee cup as though it held all the answers to her problems.
“Good morning, Lou,” I whispered before I skirted the counter and poured myself a mugful of coffee.
“Morning, sugar.” She eyed me, one of her eyebrows arching before she tossed a fiery lock of hair over her shoulder. “Well, you look like the cat who caught the canary this morning. What are you hiding, Spence?”
I took a sip of my coffee, enjoying her anticipation. Louise hated waiting.
“I had a brilliant idea.”
Her full lips tugged into a frown. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re going to make another one of those hide-under-a-rock-and-spend-your-life-in-your-room video games.”
Louise didn’t approve of my vocation. I spent a lifetime at my computer creating something that others could spend a lifetime playing to avoid society.
“No,” I answered, “though I do have several ideas for that after you leave me.”
“Oh, sugar, you’re going to have a new friend to spend your time with, remember? You promised me you’d start dating.”
I tugged my lips back in a wince. “Yeah.”
“Oh, no,” she said, her eyes going wide as she poked a manicured nail at me. “Spencer Whitaker, you are not about to renege on a promise.”
“I didn’t go back on it.” I wagged a finger at her. “I just…Lou, I’m not going to date whatever bimbo signs up on your online dating site.”
“I’m not using an online site. I’m using my God-given brains to sort this out for you. Don’t you trust me, sugar?”
I grinned at her. I did not trust her with this. Not at all. She’d pull out all the stops, but I’d end up on a long string of awful social outings that made me want to disappear into my own gaming world for the rest of my life.
“Of course, I do,” I said with that fake smile still on my face. “But the real question is…do you trust me?”
She stared at me, her eyes searching my face. “Do I trust you for what?”
I straightened, lifting my chin. “I’m going to do the same thing for you.”
She wrinkled her nose, her top lip rippling upward. “You want to find me a new husband?”
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “We’ll each find the other a new spouse. What do you say?”
“I say…no. Spence, I have no problem searching for love myself. You, on the other hand, will shut yourself up in this big old place and never be seen or heard from again.”
“Not true. I’m planning on attending your next wedding.”
“Oh, yes, you will. With a date on your arm.” She rose from her seat, signaling the end of the conversation. “Don’t you go creating a dating profile for me, Spence. You are not cleared to do this.”
“Louise Montgomery,” I called after her as she sauntered from the kitchen, “sassy Southerner who enjoys long walks on the beach, fruity concoctions, and shopping. Must love life as much as she does.”
“Don’t do it, Spence!” she answered before the door banged shut.
I chuckled. I had my leverage. If she wasn’t going to let me help her, I wasn’t going to let her help me. We were stalemated. And that was just fine by me.
I sipped at my coffee again, my mind wandering to our unique situation. Our marriage of convenience had served its purpose for Louise.
A frown settled on my lips as I stared out over the rolling landscape that led to the sea. With me, she was trapped, doomed to a life without romantic love and that had never been our plan.
A pang of guilt sliced through me as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. Clinging to Louise because of the shield she provided was wrong. I knew that. I just had to figure out how to convince her to leave me to my own devices.
My life wouldn’t be so bad, I thought as I shuffled to my in-home office overlooking the crashing waves. I’d just…stay in a lot. I hated parties, anyway. And after the divorce, I’d have to deal with the pitying looks, the attempts to set me up with the future Mrs. Whitaker.
“Pass,” I said as I settled into my desk chair and tugged open the lid of my laptop. I stared at the code I’d been writing, another installment of my wildly popular video game.
I clacked at the keys, but soon found my mind wandering. After a few more minutes, my gaze didn’t even stare at the screen, but instead through the window behind it.
Louise had been a nice distraction, but we didn’t belong together. Sometimes, she drove me insane with her overwhelming vivaciousness. She always wanted to gab about something or go out somewhere. She’d dragged me to more than enough parties in our six short months of marriage.
She really did deserve someone suited to her personality—and I sure wasn’t it.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and studied my distorted reflection in the dark screen. With a nervous glance over my shoulder, I toggled on my display and downloaded one of those dating apps.
My nose wrinkled as I filled out the profile, foregoing the picture and as many details as I could. I was just curious. And maybe if I made Louise think I was trying, she’d let me slide on this whole dating thing and just move on.
My thumb hovered over the ‘Submit’ button, a sense of dread mixed with curiosity settling over me. What if Louise was right?
I chewed my lower lip and tapped the big red button shaped like a heart, rolling my eyes at how on the nose it all was.
The first profile that popped up made me grimace. Holly enjoyed extreme tarantula breeding–not exactly my cup of tea. I swiped left.
I perused the next profile, my lips falling open as I tried to make sense of the self-described psychedelic artist who appeared to live on a different planet.
With another swipe left, I sent her spiraling away to meet Tammy who appeared to have no interests at all outside of plastic surgery.
Each swipe left was a reminder of how out of place I felt in the dating world. Holly’s profile with her tarantulas made me shudder, not just from disgust but from a deeper loneliness. Was there no one out there who shared my disdain for surface-level existence?
With every swipe, my hope of finding someone even remotely compatible dwindled. After a few more profiles, I gave up entirely, slamming the phone face down on my desk.
A small part of me lamented that I’d just blown through thirty profiles without finding a single interesting person. But I was socially awkward, I reminded myself. The most attractive thing about me was my bank account.
I snatched the phone and deleted the app before I tossed it down again, a disgusted sigh escaping my lips.
A hollow ache filled me inside as I nervously drummed my fingers on the desk, chewing my thumbnail.
With a shake of my head, I dismissed my own emotions. I had been single for a reason before I’d married Louise, and I’d be better off single after our divorce. I just had to convince her of that.
I returned to my work, laser focusing on getting something done as I shoved my disappointment down inside. But I still found myself distracted.
I toggled over to my email, a brief respite from the code lines that had blurred before my eyes, finding an email from E Dawson, a name I didn’t recognize, but the subject line caught my attention: “Translation Inquiry: Cultural Nuances.”
A click sent me into a meticulously crafted email highlighting several pieces of dialogue from my game that may not translate well along with an inquiry about what options I preferred. The suggestions were varied and coupled with pros and cons.
I stared at the words for a moment, a stark contrast to the superficial dating app interactions I’d just endured. The translator not only managed to showcase her understanding of language, but had also captured the game’s essence, as well. I wondered if they were a consumer of the product I’d created.
“You sure know your stuff,” I murmured as I hit the reply button and crafted a careful response that I hoped would match the candor of her email.
As I sent the reply, I leaned back in my chair, staring out at the sea. I could connect with a stranger over the intricacies of game translation more easily than I could connect with anyone on a personal level.
With a small sigh, I returned to staring at the lines of code. After a few seconds, I toggled into my own creation. The proximity of social interaction with the dating app had me craving some time in my private, fictional world.
The game loaded, and my avatar dropped into the world I’d created. I stood in the middle of it, staring at the surroundings. I’d built my character a nice little house in the middle of a forest. Even in the virtual world, I avoided most interaction.
I took a few steps away from my fictional cabin in search of a new quest to distract me, but before I reached the tree line, I paused, my fingers hovering over the arrow keys.
With a shake of my head, I swapped to another application. I couldn’t lose myself in a virtual world when there was work to be done.
I needed to craft a plan. After seeing the offerings on the dating app, I now understood why Louise hated them. But still, the statistics spoke for themselves. Meeting someone organically didn’t happen anymore.
But the offerings on the app were abysmal.
If Louise was determined to find love, she’d need some sort of help. And I’d provide it.
I began clacking away at the keys, typing a list of qualities Louise deserved in a partner. I’d find someone who could match her vibrancy and passion, someone who could appreciate her as much as she deserved.
I’d play her little game so long as she ended up happy. Then, at least one of us would find love.