Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Faye
I’m sweeping the floor before closing when Ethan and Monica return from their rock climbing date looking like they’re about to climb each other next.
They’re holding hands and looking like they both had an afternoon they’ll never forget.
Monica leans into his arm as they share smiles, both absolutely gone for one another and not even trying to hide it.
Ethan has a smear of chalk on his jaw and Monica has one on her collarbone and I can already picture how that happened.
It gives me a happy little ache in my chest as I witness a new love blooming. If anyone asks, I take full credit for this. I better be invited to the wedding.
Ethan leans down and gives her a ravishing smile. “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
He squeezes her hand and then leans in a little closer as if the thought of leaving her for even a minute is too much to bear.
Monica smiles up at him and he shakes his head in disbelief, a smile widening on his face as he reluctantly lets her go and heads to the bathroom.
“Hey, Faye,” he says, nodding to me as he passes.
“Hey, Ethan,” I say, trying to hide my grin.
“Can we get two cold brew coffees?”
“Definitely,” I say with a smile.
As soon as that bathroom door closes, I ditch the broom and hurry around the counter. Monica floats over like her feet are no longer touching the ground. She gives me a big, goofy, lovesick grin.
“If you want coffee, you better give me some tea.”
“Oh my god,” she says, her whole body going slack. “It was amazing. We’re like perfect for each other. How did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” I say with a grin. “Love is magical. It’s best not to question how it happens.”
“I was so nervous at first because he’s so hot,” she says, her eyes drifting up like she’s replaying it all over again. “But we just… connected so quickly. It was so easy. So natural. Like nothing else I have ever experienced. I don’t want to jinx anything, but it was like meeting my soulmate.”
She clasps her hands together and looks so hopeful that it makes me hopeful. Maybe one day that will happen to me.
“And rock climbing…” she goes on. “It’s so sensual. I had no idea. All the holding and supporting and the straps.” She shivers.
“Did you guys kiss?” I ask, unable to help myself from prying. I just have to know.
“Not yet,” she says all breathlessly. “We wanted to, but there were always so many people around.”
“From the looks of it, it’s going to happen soon.”
“I hope,” she says, leaning on the glass display case with hearts in her eyes. “I signed up for the class and we’re going out for dinner tonight, so fingers crossed. We’re just going to shower and change at my place first and then—”
The door opens behind her and Owen walks in, looking more dishevelled than I’ve ever seen him. His broad shoulders are hunched over and his hair that’s normally perfectly styled is a wild mess.
Monica’s lovestruck face disappears when she sees him. Irritation takes its place. She glares at him as he walks up to the counter, not even clocking that she’s there.
“Oh,” she says in a flat voice. “You again. Wonderful.”
Owen’s brow furrows as he turns to her. “Do I know you?”
She throws her arms in the air and huffs out a frustrated breath. “It’s Monica. From this morning!”
He just stares at her like he has no idea what she’s talking about. Finally, it clicks. “Oh. The frantic one.”
“Excuse me,” Monica says, digging her fists into her hips as she steps toward him.
“Just think,” I jump in. “You wouldn’t have met Ethan if it weren’t for Owen’s catfishing FirstSpark account.”
Her lips flatten into a straight line as she narrows her eyes at him.
Ethan returns and that lovestruck look returns with him. Monica instantly relaxes as he takes her hand and smiles at her.
I grab Owen’s arm and pull him around the counter while the lovers are distracted.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I pull him into the office in the back.
“You’re not ruining this for them,” I say as I push him into a seat. “Stay right here and I’ll go make your coffee. It’s on the house, but you’ll have to leave through the back door. I know you know where it is since you fled through it this morning like your hair was on fire.”
“I’m not here for a coffee,” he says as he stands back up. “Although one would be nice now that you mention it. Double ristretto, oat milk, sixty degrees—”
I say the order at the same time as him. “—stirred for consistency, no foam, and the espresso needs to sit for ten seconds before combining.”
“For the hundredth time,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes, “I know.”
“It’s just sometimes the oat milk is heated a little too long and it—”
“Owen,” I snap, interrupting him. “What is it? Normally, I have all the patience in the world for your excessively extravagant coffee order, but you’re making me miss a rom com occurring in real life over here! What do you want?”
He swallows hard like he’s trying to gather his nerve.
“I need you to pretend to be my wife.”
I snort out a laugh.
Besides Owen’s coffee order, I never know what’s going to come out of his mouth. But this is crazy even for him.
“I must have misheard you,” I say, chuckling as I shake my head in disbelief. “Can you say that again?”
“I need you to pretend to be my wife.”
He’s serious. He’s actually serious.
“Why? Is this because of Catfish Bot?”
“It’s called Love Bot.”
“It should change its name.”
“Regardless,” he says, nervously running a hand through his hair. “There has been a series of unfortunate circumstances since this morning.”
“I can imagine. Hundreds of women around the city think you’re in love with them.”
“Precisely. It’s been highly inconvenient.”
“And now you want to drag me into it?”
“Exactly,” he says, looking relieved.
I cross my arms and stare at him.
“Oh,” he says, the relief melting away as it dawns on him. “You’re being sarcastic.”
“Ya think?”
“Before you say no,” he says, putting his hands up. “There will be compensation.”
“Compensation? For pretending to be your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Did one of those women hit you on the head? What are you talking about?”
He takes a deep breath and spits it all out. He tells me about Love Bot taking over his phone and his brother posting that he’s married and an investor they’re trying to land seeing it and inviting him and his imaginary wife to Muskoka for the long weekend.
“So, you see,” he says. “I’m in need of a spouse.”
“You and me both.”
“A pretend one in my case.”
I shake my head as I stare at him in disbelief. “You’re serious?”
“Categorically. My brothers’ business plans depend on it.”
I think about it as I stare at him. I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to spend the long weekend in some billionaire’s swanky Muskoka cottage.
It would give me a break from that uncomfortable couch, and more importantly, it would give Willow and Greg a break from having me squatting in their living room.
“Why me?” I ask. “Can’t one of your friends or employees do it?”
He shakes his head fiercely. “No. It has to be you. I saw how you defused the tense situation this morning with that frantic woman—”
“Monica,” I correct in a tight voice.
“Precisely. There will most likely be more women stalking me. If they pop up, you can do that again.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “I don’t know any other hot rock climbers.”
“These women burst in like highly reactive compounds, agitating the system. Then you come in like a buffer solution and stabilize the situation.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but a buffer solution has not been one of them.”
“It’s a compliment.”
I sigh. “We have to work on your compliments.”
“Please, Faye. I need you.”
He stares at me with those big blue eyes and I already know I’m going to say yes.
Beyond complicated coffee orders, Owen is not the type of man who asks people for things. He’s really putting himself out there asking me for this, and I know I won’t be able to turn him down even though this will all likely explode disastrously in our faces.
Maybe it could be good for me.
Not only will I get a break from living in Willow’s living room, but I’ll get to meet the real Owen.
He’s always been an unsolved puzzle. A conundrum.
A riddle wrapped up in a mystery. The one person in my orbit that I’ve never been able to fully figure out.
The chance to find out who he actually is when he’s not ordering coffee or fleeing from women is tempting too.
But more than anything, it’s just nice to be needed.
Alex asked me for a gazillion things—dinner, groceries, laundry, money, but he never asked me for anything real.
He never needed me in any genuine way. So having Owen showing up and asking me this…
all awkward and vulnerable and desperate like I’m his only hope…
It stirs something deep within me. A need to feel needed.
I can tell I’m the only person he trusts for this.
He sees me as capable, trustworthy, and dependable. Things Alex never did.
I know I shouldn’t, but I’ll do it.
“Okay,” I say, regretting it already. “I’ll pretend to be your wife. Only because there are real feelings involved with these women and I don’t want them to get hurt.”
His face lights up. He looks so happy and relieved that it warms my chest.
“Thank you,” he says. “So, you’ll accompany me to Muskoka this weekend and possibly for other events. This will have to go on until the deal is signed.”
It starts to sink in. Will I have to wear a ring on my ring finger? Isn’t that bad luck? Will there be articles about this? Will I be in those gossip tabloids? How famous is this guy?
What the heck did I just agree to?
“For the compensation,” he says all casually like this is a normal business negotiation. “What do you require?”
“What’s the going rate for fake wives? It’s been so long since I hired one.”
“I’m not sure,” he says, thinking about it. “What do you need?”
“An apartment,” I say with a laugh.
“I can arrange that,” he says, pulling out his phone.
“No, Owen,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean…”
He just ignores me and calls someone on his speed dial. They answer on the first ring.
“Murphy,” he says into the phone. “I need to rent out an apartment. Hold on.”
He lowers the phone and looks at me. “Where would you like it?”
“Anywhere I won’t get murdered walking home,” I say with a nervous chuckle.
He nods and lifts the phone to his ear. “Find me something nice with at least three bedrooms and two baths within a ten-block radius of Queen Street West and Foundry Lane.”
He pauses while the other person says something.
“It doesn’t matter. Just make sure it’s clean, safe, and up to my standards. And make sure it has a nice view.”
A nice view? My last apartment had a view of a brick wall in the bedroom and a view of the neighbors’ balcony in the living room.
“Hold on,” he says as he lowers the phone again. “Furnished?”
I shake my head slowly, too in shock to speak. “I have… stuff,” I choke out.
“Unfurnished,” he says into the phone all confident and assured while I stand here shaking. Am I really getting my own place? Is this really happening?
“I’ll need it for three years,” he says. “Paid up front.”
“Wait,” I say, grabbing his forearm before I pass out. “Owen, this is too much.”
“Hold on,” he says, lowering the phone. “Faye, you’re helping me out in the best way you can, so let me help you out in the best way I can.”
“I know, but… A paid apartment for three years? It’s excessive.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he says. “I insist.”
I swallow hard, so badly wanting to take it. But, it’s too much.
“Faye,” he says softly. “It’s okay. Let’s do this.”
I shrug my shoulders, my cheeks blushing. “If you insist.”
He gives me a devastating smile that comes out of nowhere and nearly takes out my knees. “I do.”
My head is spinning as he tells the person on the other line to make it their top priority and then hangs up.
“I don’t know what to say, Owen. Thank you.”
He nods his head nonchalantly as he slips his phone into his pocket. “Like I said, it’s my pleasure. However, I did order that coffee…”
And… he’s back.
“Double ristretto, oat milk, sixty degrees, stirred for consistency, no foam, and the espresso needs to sit for ten seconds before combining.”
I laugh as I head into the front. “I’ll be right back.”
My mind is racing as I walk down the hallway, still in disbelief that I’ll be able to tell Willow I’m moving out. She’s going to be thrilled for me.
I stop short when I see Ethan and Monica slow dancing in the middle of the empty coffee shop. They’re holding each other close, swaying between the tables while Taylor Swift’s Lover plays on the radio.
It’s so romantic. So beautiful. I bet they’ll use this song for their first dance at their wedding.
I let the song end and then I make their cold brews, smiling as I watch them falling for each other.
I wonder if something amazing like that will ever happen to me. I’m not sure, but all I can do is stay open to the possibility. I have to remain hopeful and optimistic that it will happen, trusting the universe will give me what I crave. I just can’t lose hope.
Alex wasn’t that for me, but maybe my true love will be around the corner.
They drift over when I have their coffees ready. Ethan pulls out some money, but I shake my head, giving it to them on the house. We’re closed anyways, so technically it’s okay.
As Ethan leaves, Monica runs around the counter and throws her arms around me, giving me a warm hug.
“I’m so happy I met you, Faye,” she says as she squeezes me tight. “I came here for a date and I’m leaving with a new guy and a new friend.”
“Here,” I say, grabbing a couple of turkey sandwiches and shoving them into her bag.
“What’s that for?”
“For some reason I don’t think you two will be making it out of your apartment tonight.”
She laughs as she heads out to meet her new lover. “Hope not,” she says with a wink. “I’ll see you later, Faye.”
I wave to her and then get to work on Owen’s coffee.
It hits me all over again that I may actually have my own apartment—paid for three years, no less—and my stomach drops.
This can’t actually be happening, can it?
But when I bring the coffee into the back, Owen is on the phone with that person again.
“We’ll be there tonight,” he says before he hangs up.
He grins when he sees me. “We found a suitable apartment. We have an appointment to inspect it tonight.”
My legs finally give out and I collapse into the chair, still holding the coffee. He takes it from me and frowns as he sniffs it.
I can’t believe this.
I must have had Owen all wrong. I knew he was generous, but this is not just generous… It’s kindhearted. It’s sincere and altruistic.
He may be the most benevolent, kindest person I’ve ever met.
“Ugh, Faye,” he says, his face twisting up in disgust as he nearly spits the coffee out. “This coffee is terrible. The oat milk is sour again. What temperature did you heat it to?”
Or… Maybe I just made a deal with the devil.