Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Maggie
My brain sort of short-circuits as he talks, and I blink a few times, my blood rushing through my ears. Did he just …
“Wait, wait, wait,” I cut in, holding up a hand to stop the flow of words coming from his pretty face. “I’m sorry. Wait. Are you asking me out?”
He gets a funny look on his face. “Kind of. I know you’re really busy and don’t have a lot of free time.
But I think that’s why this arrangement would benefit you as well.
I would be happy to pay for any childcare expenses you need help with, both while we’re out together and just in general as long as we’re …
” He trails off, moves his head from side to side in an ambivalent movement.
“Dating, I guess? At least as far as the public is concerned. You made it clear last time that you aren’t really interested in a relationship, so I’m happy to keep things friendly between us.
But we would go out to dinner and whatever else you’d like to do, not worry about people snapping photos of us so that we’re seen out together having fun, and let the public reach their own conclusions. ”
“So …” I swallow hard a few times, looking around as I let my brain piece together his words, picking up each sentence and examining it before adding it to the whole picture. “You want me to be your … fake … girlfriend?”
I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not. I’m good enough to date but not for real?
He shrugs. “If you want to put it that way, I guess you can. I prefer to think of it as my friend who goes out with me. You’d get to go out and have fun and get some time off where you’re not in charge of everyone twenty-four-seven.
And I’d get to be seen as a stable grown up instead of as an asshole who parties so much that a story about me showing up hungover to the playoffs and tanking my team seems plausible instead of the ridiculous lie it is. ”
I bite my lip, studying him. And here I thought this was a date. Maybe lunch dates aren’t that exciting, but I thought he liked me. Maybe all my baggage did scare him off, just not entirely.
“Plus I get childcare expenses covered.” I narrow my eyes. “Why not just hire someone outright? Surely there are plenty of attractive women you could find who’d happily go out with you for however long you paid them.”
His eyebrows raise. “You mean like an escort?”
I shrug.
“Yeah. And that wouldn’t make it back to the press,” he scoffs.
I lean forward, putting on a condescending smirk. “And why do you think this won’t? I work for the guy who’s responsible for the story you just mentioned. I could tell him all about this.”
He blanches, his throat working as he swallows.
That thought clearly never occurred to him.
Then he shakes his head. “Because you hate your boss, and you think what he did to me was wrong. Yeah, okay, I like to have a good time. Who doesn’t?
But I’d never show up hungover to a game.
I’ve never done that. I never would. And you know it.
” He lifts one shoulder, seeming more relaxed.
“And I don’t want to pay an escort or some random person.
I like you. I had fun the other night. Didn’t you? ”
I freeze with my mouth open, then snap it closed and dip my head in a nod, filling my mouth with another bite of my sandwich as an excuse not to answer in words.
“Okay,” he says like I just agreed to something important.
“I had fun. You had fun. I’m not trying to put you in an uncomfortable position.
The truth is, I’d like to see you more, but I get the feeling that if I wait for you to reach out to me, it’ll never happen.
But if we agree that we want to keep seeing each other—with no pressure to do anything but go out and have fun—and that I’ll make sure you have what you need so that your son is taken care of while we’re together, what are the possible drawbacks? ”
What are the possible drawbacks?
Wait, what are the possible drawbacks?
I don’t think I read him wrong before, but I think I’ve given him enough signals that I’m not really interested that he’s offering this option.
Chewing my sandwich, I consider the issue from all angles—or I try to anyway.
It’s really hard to think about it rationally while he’s sitting there staring at me with those pretty hazel eyes, lips that are far more pouty than it’s fair for a man to have, and gorgeous hair that hangs down about even with his chin.
He likes to run his hands through it, and part of me wonders what that would feel like …
Shaking myself out of that line of thought, I refocus on the offer in front of me. He’d take me out—as friends—and we’d do fun things.
Planting my elbow on the table, I hold up a finger. “Hang on. You said we could go out and do whatever I want?”
“Of course!” He says that like it shouldn’t even be a question. “I’m up for pretty much anything. You’re the one who’s been holed up in a dark room for years. I’m happy to give you a range of choices if you need help picking, but whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
“What if I want to take ballroom dancing lessons?” I shoot back, eyes narrowed. This sounds way too good to be true.
He grins. “That sounds fun. You want to learn to waltz with me? Or we could salsa. I’ve done that before. I had a good time.”
I almost choke on that statement, even though my mouth is empty. “What about a spa day? What if I wanted a facial and a manicure or something?”
“Done and done. Name the time and place. Or if you don’t know where’s good, I can get referrals from my teammates’ wives and girlfriends. Would you want it to be a couple’s package? Or would you rather get pampered solo?”
My jaw drops at his ready agreement. I close it, looking away and furiously sucking my drink until it makes that horrible gurgling sound meaning I’m down to ice and little else.
I give it a sad look, and Jack chuckles, reaching for my cup.
“I’ll get you a refill while you think of more questions,” he says in a low voice that’s smooth like satin.
Good god, this man might become dangerous to my sanity.
What he’s offering is so tempting, it’s hard to turn down.
He wouldn’t be a real boyfriend, I know that, but it might be a good way to get my feet wet for when I am ready to date again.
I’ve been so wrapped up in surviving the divorce and keeping my head above water and supporting Liam that I haven’t had time to focus on myself at all.
Someone wants to pay for me to get pampered?
Is willing to go to … paint nights and baseball games and ballroom dancing lessons with me without complaining?
Or would he complain?
Kyle acted like he was happy to do those things at first too, especially in the abstract.
But when it came down to it, when I wanted to do any of those things in reality and not just hypothetically, he’d come up with a million excuses, and if none of those worked, he’d bitch and moan the whole time so that I’d be miserable and not ask him to do whatever it was again.
That’s why I stopped hanging out with my friends.
That’s why I never went to a paint night despite asking to go to one more than once.
That’s why I only went to baseball games maybe once a season, and it was usually just Liam and me.
“Tickets are so expensive these days,” he’d complain, meanwhile he had no problem going to as many basketball games as he wanted despite having to travel to them, claiming those were a business expense or getting the network to cover the costs.
When I pointed out that baseball games would be covered too, he’d always just look at me like I was so cute and dumb for thinking that.
Jack comes back with a fresh cup of soda and sets it in front of me. “Do you have more questions for me?” he asks. “Or have you made up your mind already?”
Wiping my hands on a napkin, I clench it in my hands and hold it in my lap. “Just one question.” I meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft. “How long do you expect this to last?”
He glances away at that question, surprising me that he doesn’t have an answer at the ready. Crossing his arms, he leans back in his chair. “I’d like it to be for at least the summer. Training camp starts mid-September.”
“And what happens at the end of the summer?”
His brows crimp. “Uh, whatever we want? I don’t have a specific end date picked out.
Like I said, I’d like it to be for at least a few months.
I think that’ll help with the stability angle I’m going for.
People will expect me to be partying all summer, but I’m under strict orders not to do that.
Taking you out means I can go places and do things—probably even things I wouldn’t think to try on my own, which sounds fun to me—without looking like an irresponsible jackass.
Sitting around all summer sounds really boring.
I’d much rather have fun with you if you’re up for it. ”
I nod, processing this. It’s definitely a practical take on the situation, but I believe him when he says he wants to spend time with me. “So in September, we’ll either … stop? Or continue?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much. If we’re both still having a good time, I see no reason for it to end.
And of course, if it’s not working for you at any point, you’re not under any kind of contract.
You can say no. I won’t be mad, and I won’t keep pestering you.
I just thought …” He looks away, swallowing hard, and I realize that he’s nervous.
Shrugging, he faces me again. “I just thought it’d be a good fit for both of us. ”
Looking down, I mull that over. But really, what do I have to lose?
Meeting his eyes, I nod. “Okay. I’m in.”