Chapter 1 #2
“I am marrying you, so it might be a little of my business. You know, in case of future mosquito abatement costs, depending on your blood type.” He flashes a big smile, proud of his comeback.
“But,” I continue with an edge of annoyance in my tone, “I’m also helping to pay for my mom and little sister to live.” Not to mention the fact that I don’t have health insurance and just found out I have type 1 diabetes. It’s raining medical bills at my house, but I’ll spare him the details.
“If this inheritance is coming from your dad, why can’t he pay for them to live? And for your schooling, for that matter?”
Because he’s not really a dad.
Glen Lucas is a man who had an affair with my mother, his office cleaning lady. And as soon as he found out she was pregnant, he dropped her and kept his reputation and his real family.
The worst part is that my mom signed a settlement agreement for a lesser amount of his money, not realizing that monthly child support would’ve equaled out to a bigger payout in the long run.
That’s why I need Glen’s money now.
But I’m not going to tell this random stranger my life story. Best to keep details about Glen Lucas to a minimum.
“Listen, the whole thing between him and my mom was a big scandal, and if it came out, it would ruin his fancy life in Scottsdale. This inheritance is his way of paying to get rid of me so I don’t leak all his secrets to his wife and kids.”
Harrison’s lips push down in disapproval. “If he’s trying to get rid of you, why doesn’t he just give you the money instead of making you jump through all these marriage hoops?”
“He uses money and power to control people. I think it’s all just a game to him, a way to make it hard for me to get the money.”
“Hmm.” He nods, contemplating me. “That’s a lot of money just to mess with people for fun.”
“Well, he’s not a good person, and he won’t even miss the money.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He owns an airline.”
His eyes go wide. “Like, a whole airline? Which one?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“One with a built-in TV screen or, like, the cheaper ones that you can only bring a small backpack on?”
“How is that information relevant?”
“I’m just trying to get a picture of how rich we’re talking.”
“No TV screen.” I gather my legal papers and shove them back inside my purse. “I’ll send you a copy of what you signed.”
“I don’t know. What’s the likelihood that good ol’ Glen will check up on our marriage every once in a while to make sure it’s real?”
“I would say the likelihood isn’t high.”
In my twenty-one years of life, Glen Lucas has never tried to contact me.
I doubt he ever thought about me until last year, when I showed up at his office to confront him about casting me and my mom aside.
Instead of meeting with me, I received a legal document in the mail a week later, detailing the conditions of the trust. In the letter that accompanied the trust, it was clear that this “inheritance” was buying my silence.
So I doubt Glen will keep tabs on this marriage.
As long as I don’t bother him or tell anyone I’m his illegitimate daughter, he won’t bother me.
Harrison shifts in his seat. “What happens in the next six years if you meet someone, fall in love, and want to get married?”
My jaw sets. “That won’t happen.”
“It could happen.”
“It won’t. I’m never getting married.” His lips curl, causing me to add a caveat. “At least not for love.”
He leans forward, suddenly too interested in my life. “Why would you never get married for love?”
“I just don’t believe in the fairy tale.”
“I think most married couples would say being married isn’t a fairy tale. I think they’d say it’s a lot of hard work—at least, that’s what my parents say.”
“If that’s true, why do people keep getting married?”
“Because they want to build a life with someone.”
“I think it’s because they’re hoping for the fairy-tale ending, and when it doesn’t come, they regret their choices. Divorce lawyers are the only real winners when it comes to marriage.”
Harrison laughs. “Wow, you are way more screwed up than I originally thought.”
I throw a napkin at him. I would make it a knife, but we don’t have time to stop at the ER for stitches. “That’s the problem with men. I make logical arguments about why marriage is dumb, and your first assumption is that I’m crazy.”
“Okay.” He holds his palms up, projecting peace. “I’m sorry I said that. I just think finding a good partner, getting married, and starting a family is the best thing a person can do with their life.”
Oh, boy. He’s one of those kinds of men.
Why did Sam have to find me a doe-eyed guy for this arrangement?
At least he referred to both genders. I might’ve called the whole thing off if he’d said, ‘Getting married and starting a family is the best thing a woman can do with their life.’
“So is that why you agreed to this arrangement?” I ask. “You believe that getting married is the best thing you can do at twenty-one?”
“I’m twenty-two and no.” His glare flattens. “I’m just saying I disagree about how you paint marriage. To me, it’s a meaningful partnership that, when done right, can bring us our greatest joy in life.”
“Listen, if you think this little arrangement will bring you joy—”
“No.” He holds up his hands again, stopping me.
“What we’re doing today is strictly business.
But someday, I want the real thing. I want a happy marriage and children.
It’s my biggest goal in life. Just not right now.
So you don’t have to worry. I’m not ready to get married for real anytime soon.
I can make the six years without needing to get married to someone else. ”
“Good.” I sit up taller. “Then we’re on the same page.”
“Not exactly, but close enough for today.”
“We should go.” I tap my phone to check the time. “We need to meet the pastor at the church in thirty minutes.”
“Why a church? Shouldn’t we do a courthouse instead? It’s less personal.”
“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is my curiosity over who I’m marrying bothering you?”
I heave out a breath. “I chose a church over the courthouse because I thought a real church with a real pastor would be more believable to my father.”
“Makes sense, I guess. Let’s go, then.” Harrison scoots out of the booth. “We wouldn’t want to miss our own wedding.”
No, we would not.
I have too much riding on this.
I should have said yes when the pastor’s wife asked if I wanted to hold a bouquet of flowers as I walked down the aisle.
I love flowers. In any other situation, I’d never turn them down, but I was cocky, thinking I didn’t need the traditional wedding symbol—it’s enough that I’m wearing a white dress.
But now I have nothing to do with my hands.
They swing aimlessly at my sides as I speed-walk down the aisle to “Canon in D” piping through the speakers.
None of this ‘step together, step’ crap. I’m making good time.
Sam points a phone at me as I pass. He’s not just our witness. He’s our videographer and photographer in case Glen wants more proof than just the wedding certificate.
I stop at Harrison’s side and face the pastor. He’s an older man with graying hair and kind eyes. I bet you couldn’t find a man of God who didn’t have kind eyes.
He steps in front of us on a dais about five feet away and looks out to the crowd, which only consists of his wife and Sam. I’m sure if the church were a full house, his position on the step above us would be perfect. But today, in the empty chapel, the pastor seems miles away.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the presence of these witnesses, to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is a sacred covenant given by God for the blessing and support of husband and wife, and for the joy and stability of family life.” I refrain from rolling my eyes.
Nothing in my life makes marriage seem sacred.
“It is to be entered into reverently, thoughtfully, and in the fear of God.”
Oh geez. I’m totally going to Hell for this.
“Mawwage,” Harrison whispers beside me with a perfect lisp. “Mawwage is wot bwings us togeder today.”
I side-eye him, trying to make it seem like I’m still paying attention to the pastor’s blessing. “Are you quoting The Princess Bride?”
Harrison’s face stays even, and his focus remains forward. “Mawwage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam. And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva.”
I roll my lips together, desperately trying to hide my smile, though the pastor seems oblivious. But also, I’m grateful for the comic relief. There are a lot of competing emotions swirling around in my chest that I’d love to ignore right now. His distraction is everything.
The pastor bows his head. “Amen.”
“Amen,” we say in reverent unison, even though we’re being anything but reverent.
“Do you, Harrison Taylor”—Oh, so that’s his last name. Good to know—“take Camila Jiménez to be your wedded wife, to live together in the covenant of marriage?”
My head turns, and our eyes meet. I study his blue eyes. They’re lighter than a vibrant blue but still striking.
The pastor continues, “Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her for as long as you both shall live?”
Hearing it spelled out like that adds to my guilt. I know Harrison is getting paid generously, but it’s all a lie, and I’m the puppet master, tempting him to sell his soul to the devil. Just because I don’t believe in marriage doesn’t mean I don’t have a conscience.
His lips lift into a cute smile, easing some of the guilt. “I do.”
Deep inside, something stirs—a long-lost childhood dream of being a wife and mother—childish notions I’ve long since abandoned. Or at least, I thought I’d abandoned.