Chapter 13
LANEY
F or forty-eight hours straight, I didn’t tell a soul. That sorry excuse of a marriage proposal was the only thing I could think about, but I kept my lips zipped and stewed in silent misery.
A few times, Dad had asked me what was going on, but I shrugged him off, settling for a half-truth about being worried about the store.
Thankfully, he was still working long nights at the station and he was too tired by the time he got home to question me too much about what I’d decided to do about the situation Megan had gotten me into.
Gwen was a little more alert, but I didn’t tell her either. Not about the contract. Not about Sterling’s version of romance, which included clauses, sub-clauses, and a signing bonus like he was recruiting me to play for the Yankees.
Not even about the private chef, or the Malibu estate, or the jet, which I’d almost texted her about before I’d remembered how not normal this whole thing was. All she knew was that we’d gone to LA and had found a potential location I loved for the second store.
Everything else, I kept to myself. It felt like my life had been hijacked and I just didn’t know how to explain any of it. It was so surreal that keeping my mouth shut seemed like the only option.
Until brunch. It was only Thursday, but Gwen had insisted. I had a feeling it was so that she could pump me for information and I had a suspicion that if she did, I would crack.
As it was, it felt like there were little wisps of steam coming out of my ears as I walked into the cafe. Not because I was angry, but because all of this was just too much for me. My entire body felt like a pressure cooker, my brain on the verge of exploding.
I slipped into my seat across from her at the table where she was already waiting, picking up the mimosa she’d already ordered and taking a long, deep sip. My friend’s dark eyes swept over me. Then she sighed and sat back in her chair.
“Alright, you’ve been acting weird for two days,” she said without even greeting me. “Start talking, Lane.”
I swallowed my drink and frowned. “I haven’t?—”
She cut me off, cocking a black eyebrow to let me know she wasn’t going to be deterred.
“You’ve been texting instead of calling.
You don’t pop in to drop off a coffee on your way to the store in the mornings.
You were humming a Gregorian chant or something like it when I dropped in for lunch yesterday and claimed not to like chicken until I repeated what I was talking about. That’s not normal.”
“I…” I couldn’t deny any of that. “Have I really been that obvious? I kind of felt like I was doing a better job.”
“You weren’t,” she said flatly. “Is this about your eggs? I thought you canceled the appointment at the clinic because you had to postpone your trip, right?”
“It’s not about my eggs. I did have to cancel the appointment.”
“Well, what is it then?” Genuine worry softened her eyes as she leaned forward. “None of this is like you at all.”
I sighed and stared into the bubbles of my mimosa like they might whisper a solution back to me. “I have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out.”
Her eyes widened. “Is it drugs? Oh, God. It’s drugs, isn’t it? Megan got you hooked when she threw you under a corporate bus. I fucking knew she was going to be responsible for something like this someday.”
“What?” I was so surprised that I laughed. “No. It’s not that. She didn’t get me hooked on anything.”
Except Sterling, but I knew that wasn’t what Gwen meant. Besides, I wasn’t hooked on him. I was stuck with him. Big difference.
Her head slanted to the side, those wide eyes never leaving mine. “I’m going to ask you this one more time, Laney Rhodes. Are you on drugs?”
“Gwen!”
“Well, I don’t know.” She threw her arms out to her sides, her brow puckered and real concern swimming in her eyes. “You’ve got the vibe of someone who just joined a cult but isn’t ready to admit it yet. Oh, my God. Is that it? Did you join a cult in LA?”
“I did not join a cult. Jeez, you’ve known me for years. How are drugs or a cult your first guesses?” I took a deep breath and leaned in, keeping my voice down and hoping like hell she’d do the same once I told her this. “Sterling Westwood proposed to me.”
She blinked. Hard. Once. Twice. Again.
“Proposed?” she whispered the word like it was a different language that she’d never heard before. “Proposed what?”
“Marriage.” On the other hand, I kind of get it. I suddenly feel like we’re speaking a whole different language too. “Like, he wants us, me and him, to become legally married.”
Finally, her eyelids stopped glitching with all that blinking and she looked at me again, but not in a way she ever had before. It was more like she was mentally revisiting the drugs thing as she stared at me.
“Sterling Westwood, as in the human iceberg in a Tom Ford suit? That Sterling Westwood?”
I nodded, my lips pressed together. “That’s the one. It came up while we were in LA together.”
“Wow,” she said, dragging the word out like she was chewing on it. She squinted at me. “He really proposed to you? Wow.”
“I said no, obviously.”
Gwen froze, drink midway to her lips. She started blinking again. “Wait. You said no ?”
I blinked right back at her. “Um. Yeah? Obviously, I said no.”
Her features transformed into an honest-to-God gawk. “Are you insane?”
“What? Why would you even ask me that? I thought you’d say, ‘That’s crazy, Laney! Don’t do it.’ You were supposed to say that. You were supposed to ask if he’s insane, not me.”
She leaned closer to me so fast, her gold hoops swung in her ears. “Laney, the money . Think about the money. And the ass . Never forget about that ass. You could own that ass. It could be your ass. Why the hell would you say no?”
My stomach dropped, disbelief swirling through me. “Gwen.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry, do you have some sort of moral objection to solving all your problems? We’re talking about the guy who owns the majority stake in your company. The guy who has more money than a vampire who’s been alive for a thousand years. Plus, he’s hot. What’s the problem?”
“I haven’t even known him for a month,” I said slowly, because it really should’ve been obvious. “Also, I wasn’t done telling you about it yet.”
“What’s to tell?” She fanned herself like she was suddenly about to swoon.
“A gorgeous, super rich guy fell head over heels for you and proposed. Love at first sight is a real thing, Lane. It’s okay.
You don’t have to explain it to me. I get it.
I mean, it would’ve been nice to know how this happened, but if you love him, just say yes. ”
I groaned. “You have all this so backward.”
“Okay, so you fell head over heels for him and it was love at second sight?” She paused, frowning. “No. Now I’m confused. Who fell for who? Well, he proposed, so obviously he fell, but?—”
“It would be an arranged marriage,” I said before she could keep muttering nonsensical theories. “He doesn’t love me. I don’t love him. There is no love, not at first sight or otherwise. No one fell. That’s why I said no.”
She sighed and finally picked up her drink again, draining the whole mimosa in one go before signaling to our regular server for another and turning back to me. “An arranged marriage ? What are you talking about?”
I shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea, but that’s what happened. One minute, we’re looking at storefronts together, and the next, he pulls this folder out of nowhere at dinner and drops it on the table between us. Inside is a contract proposing that we get married.”
Her brow furrowed. “Did he go down on one knee? Is there a ring?”
“No and no,” I said. “I’m sure there will be a ring if I say yes?—”
“I thought you’d already said no.”
I sighed. “Technically, I said I would think about it.”
“You could’ve led with that,” she squealed, her excitement back in full force. “Who cares about the rest of it? That guy is a demigod and you’d get to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.”
“I doubt that.”
She frowned. “Married people wake up next to each other.”
“Married people also usually know each other.”
She shrugged. “You’ll get to know him. Any idea why he’d want an arranged marriage, though? Does he have weird nipples or something?”
“I couldn’t tell you. It sounds like it’s a weird family tradition or something, but if you ask me, he probably just belongs in the loony bin.”
After pausing and thinking about it for a beat, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. In fact, I think I’ve actually read about this. A lot of the mega-rich people do things this way. It’s safer for them.”
“Yeah, he said something like that, but still. I can’t marry some dude I don’t know, not even if he did promise me millions and said he’d give me his shares in the store if I last a year.”
“He what?”
“Oh, and there’s more.” I scoffed down disbelieving laughter, raking my hands through my hair just to give them something to do.
“I’d also have to have his baby in that year.
So there’s that. Don’t worry, though. The kid would stay with me if I choose to walk away after the initial twelve-month term. ”
Gwen went so still that I wasn’t even sure she was breathing anymore. She sure wasn’t blinking any longer. Bending forward, I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Are you still in there?”
“I’m here. I’m just processing.” She finally swallowed hard and refocused on me.
“Okay, this is all completely crazy, I agree, but think about the upside here, Lane. You’d have the baby you’ve always wanted.
You’d have the store. Megan would be gone.
You’d be rich, settled, and you’d be able to pour all your energy into being an amazing mom and you’d have the money to make Baby Blossom into exactly what you’ve always dreamed. ”
“Yeah, but I’d also have a contract. A one-year deal.
With clauses, and terms, and legalese. What happens if, God forbid, I catch feelings for him and he just ends it?
He could hand me the keys to a luxury SUV and tell me he’ll cover designer diapers until I die, but please vacate the premises by Tuesday.
It’s just really not a simple arrangement. ”
Gwen was unfazed. “Let’s recap. You’d have the baby. You’d have the business. You’d have literally millions of dollars. Oh, and you’d have to be married to the Royal Prince Westwood for a year. That’s not exactly a punishment.”
“It’s not about the money,” I whispered. “I wanted the love story. The one and done. The person. I didn’t want to sign a contract for a child like I was entering a startup accelerator.”
Gwen leaned back, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Two weeks ago, you were talking about freezing your eggs, sperm donors, and IVF. This man is offering you the romantic equivalent of a blank check that comes with an exit plan. He’s Sterling freaking Westwood.
I say go for it. Worry about love next year. ”
“I know who he is.”
“Then why are we whisper fighting about it in a restaurant full of people who couldn’t afford his tie pin?”
I buried my face in my hands and groaned. “Because I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can be married to him for a year and not fall in love with him.”
She touched my arm gently. “Then don’t say yes yet. Just have a lawyer look at the contract. Someone objective who won’t think about this from an emotional perspective.”
I peeked at her through my fingers. “You really think I should consider it?”
“I think,” she said, a smile spreading on her lips, “that this could be the start of everything. You’d have your baby, keep your store, and maybe you’ll even crack the Ice King’s frozen heart while you’re at it.”
Laughter bubbled out of me, but the sound was unhinged. Manic.
Gwen grabbed her phone. “I’m looking up lawyers for you. You have to at least talk to someone about this.”
“Great,” I muttered. “What am I going to tell my dad?”
She grinned as she looked up at me from her screen. “You’re going to tell him that his future grandchild is going to come with its own foundation.”