Chapter 5 – Maura
MAURA
“Why won’t they leave?” Brinley groans.
I glance over at the small group of women still browsing the romance section. “Probably because you haven’t closed the store?”
“Still. Don’t they sense that we have things to talk about that we can’t discuss with an audience?”
“We have plenty of time for that later,” Cat says. I met her for the first time earlier tonight, a tiny blonde with a cloud of curly hair. She’s sweet as pie, and her attitude is pure sunshine. It’s a nice contrast with her best friend Pippa’s razor wit and feisty attitude.
James arranged for us to meet at the Copper Cup’s Wine Wednesdays, the one night a week where Brinley keeps the place open late and lets people drink. He also hinted that I might ask them to be part of the wedding party, so my side wouldn’t be “outnumbered” by his friends.
A polite way of saying I don’t really have any.
“Time for refills,” Pippa declares, opening a new bottle of red wine. “We could all use a little unwinding.”
“Please,” Cat says, raising her glass. “Wedding planning is so exhausting, I really need it. You and James have the right idea having a speedy engagement, Maura.”
“Have you decided on a venue yet?” Brinley asks.
“We’re still deciding between going to Paris and getting married here.
Paris is my favorite place in the world, but it would be hard for a lot of my friends from the shelter I volunteer at to travel,” Cat says.
“We’re looking at places in both cities, but either they can’t fit everyone, or they don’t have the security Nate wants.
He wants to make sure there’s no way the paparazzi can crash the ceremony. ”
I cringe. If James and I were having a big ceremony, that’s something I’d have to worry about, too. I don’t have any doubts about the contract I signed, but I’m wary of the amount of media attention I’m marrying into.
“You need a refill, Maura?” Pippa asks.
“I’m good, thanks.” I’m still on my first glass, and I know I won’t get to a second.
Dr. Markovic has told me plenty of times that I shouldn’t drink on my medications, and to that I say, YOLO.
If my malformed ventricle hasn’t killed me yet, a few sips of wine won’t, either—especially since I haven’t had a reason to celebrate with alcohol for at least three years.
I sit back and listen as they discuss the pros and cons of Toronto versus Paris.
It’s nice to think that I could be part of this little group of friends.
It’s always been hard for me to maintain friendships, between my father’s controlling reach and my own health problems. When you cancel plans enough times because you’re having crazy side effects from a new medication, eventually people are going to stop calling. I don’t blame them.
I’m lucky that Brinley doesn’t mind my flakiness. She doesn’t know about my condition, so she just assumes it’s my artistic temperament. “The muse struck again, didn’t it?” she usually texts if I cancel on her.
The other girls are halfway through their second glasses when the last customers decide to leave, and Brinley quickly darts over to the door and locks it. “Finally,” she sighs. “Now the interrogation can begin.”
“It’s not an interrogation,” Pippa insists. “We just have a few questions about this whole marriage contract thing.”
“Make that a lot of questions,” says Cat.
“Starting with, what the fuck?” says Brinley. “You got engaged to some guy you weren’t even dating. When did this happen?”
I cross my legs under the table, getting comfortable.
I expected questions tonight—mostly from Brinley.
There’s no way this is going to be a short conversation.
“Recently. My dad first broached the idea in December, and James accepted a few weeks later. Then there was a lot of paperwork, and I had to meet James, but things were only finalized recently.”
“So it’s been months,” Brinley says, sounding stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?”
“Honestly? Because I knew I wanted to do it and I didn’t want you to try and talk me out of it.”
“If it was really what you wanted, I would’ve supported you,” she says. I feel a frisson of guilt when I see the real hurt in her eyes. Brinley is my closest friend—maybe my only friend. Of course she’s upset that I didn’t tell her something this big. I’d feel the same.
“I’m sorry.” I reach out and grab her hand. “Trust me, Brinley, if I told anybody I would’ve told you.”
“So you really want this?” Cat says. “A contract marriage with James?”
I nod. “Yes. I want financial freedom. I want a baby. Those were things I wanted long before I met James. He’s giving me the opportunity to have the life I want and he’s getting a major business partnership out of it.
We’re both entering this with clear eyes.
It’s not going to be some grand romance, but I think it will actually make me happy. ”
“I have to ask,” Brinley blurts out. “Are you sure you’re not just doing this to make your dad happy?”
I snort. “No way. In fact, if I could do this without making him happy, that would be my ideal scenario.”
“There are other ways to get financial freedom, you know,” she presses. “You could get a job. Hell, you could work here at the Copper Cup. I’ll fire Trevor. You'd be better at the job, anyway.”
I smile at her. In theory that sounds like a nice life, stocking books, chatting with Brinley, paying my own bills, and coming back to a tiny apartment I pay the rent for.
But I could never live that life. There are too many physical limitations with my heart condition.
Standing up all day, lugging around boxes of books would be more than my body could take.
“You can’t fire Trevor,” I joke. “I won’t get in the way of true love.”
“Oooo, who’s Trevor?” Pippa asked eagerly.
Brinley rolls her eyes. “He’s in high school and not my type. You wouldn’t have to work here if you didn’t want to, Maura. You could be an artist.”
“I’ll still be an artist when I marry James,” I say softly. “It’s not just about the money. I want a family. I want a baby. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Maybe it’s because mine died when I was so young, but I want this.”
“And you feel safe?” Cat asks in a quiet voice. “You’re not being coerced?”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“Are you attracted to him?” Pippa asks.
I bite my lip. James is handsome, there’s no doubt about that.
As a painter, I admire the shape of his features—his hooded blue eyes, the Cupid’s bow over a full lower lip, the strong chin and cheekbones that make his face look slightly hollowed.
His thick brows and dark hair are trimmed, but not overly so.
There’s something so restrained about him, though. I wonder if he’s ever able to fully let go, or if he’ll be mechanical in bed. Going through the motions, getting the job done without any passion.
I hope not. I hope that under his buttoned-up exterior, there’s at least a little desire for me.
Pippa’s still looking at me expectantly, so I give her the best answer I can. “Sort of.”
She frowns. “What do you mean, you’re sort of attracted to him?”
“I mean, the packaging is nice. He’s a good-looking man. I’m just not sure if there’s any chemistry there.”
Except for that kiss on the cheek back in the café. When I got that close to him, my fingers gripping his lapel, I felt…something. A little, tiny spark. I just don’t know if we can grow that to something bigger yet.
“I don’t know if I could get married to someone I wasn’t having good sex with,” Pippa muses.
“Maybe the sex will be great,” Cat says encouragingly. “They’re both gorgeous. And if there’s not any chemistry at first, it can grow.”
I see Pippa and Brinley exchange glances. Clearly, they don’t share Cat’s optimism.
It doesn’t matter, I remind myself. If there’s no sexual chemistry, I’m sure we can at least fake it long enough to get the job done.
All I really want from our relationship is respect and stability—something I’m not sure the other girls can really relate to.
They all plan or hope to marry the love of their lives, while I’m happy with someone who can make the rest of my life easy and pleasant.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve thought this through,” says Pippa. “I mean, I’m dating my stepbrother and I’ve never been happier. Maybe a traditional relationship is overrated.”
“And I know James,” Cat says. “He’s not the warmest person, but I think he’s a good guy and I don’t think he’d ever hurt you. As long as you’re safe, then I respect your decision.”
We all look at Brinley, who groans.
“Well, of course I respect your autonomy, Maura,” she says, crossing her arms. “It’s just messed up that your dad even proposed this, like you’re just a thing he can trade and sell.
I hate men who think like that. It’s like we’re not even people to them.
We’re just things to help them get what they want. ”
“That’s my father,” I admit. “But I’m not sure James is like that.”
“He signed the contract, didn’t he?” she snaps.
“Because he knew Maura wanted it,” Cat says gently.
“He made sure I did,” I add. “He made sure we had a private meeting before the contract was signed, so he could be sure.”
Brinley sighs. “Look, I’ll stand with you through anything Maura—if you want to shave your head, if you wanna move to Antarctica, if you wanna turn to a life of crime, then I’ll be the Thelma to your Louise.
I just—” Her voice breaks, and she pauses to take a breath.
“I want to make sure you know that you’re more than a trading card.
You’re an artist with an incredible mind, with a vision and a warm heart.
You deserve someone who sees you for all of that, and frankly, I don’t think that’s what you’re getting. ”
Tears burn in the back of my eyes, and I blink them back. Brinley’s the person whose support I wanted the most, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully get it.
“Will you still come to the wedding?” I ask.
She softens. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.”
“And you’ll be my maid of honor?”
“Yes!” she squeals.
“Come on, hug each other!” Cat cries.
Giggling, Brinley and I get out of our seats and follow her orders. Brinley only comes up to my shoulder, which makes me laugh again. Releasing her, I turn to Cat and Pippa.
“Would you two stand up with me too? I know we haven’t known each other that long, so you don’t have to, but–”
“We want to,” Pippa declares.
Cat nods. “It would be an honor. You’re marrying James, so you’re one of us, now.”
“This calls for a toast!” Brinley says, raising the bottle of wine.
I let Brinley refill my glass, even knowing damn well I won’t have more than a few sips of it. It feels good to have these women in my corner, even if Brinley’s worries are still echoing in my ears.
What if James is more like my father than I want to admit?