Chapter 5
five
JORDAN
I’m pretty sure I’ve entered a twilight zone—one in which my attorney suggested I marry my best friend.
One in which my best friend didn’t run for the hills at the suggestion. She didn’t even laugh off his assumptions like she always does whenever someone else implies we’re together.
In fact, she sat there and responded with questions of her own, as if what he was suggesting might actually be a possibility.
Yeah. Definitely the Twilight Zone. One that looks and sounds and feels very real.
As soon as Marilee and I step out of Sam Granger’s office thirty minutes later, I snag her elbow gently and turn to her. “Hey.”
She flips her gaze upward, eyes big and soft green. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Oh, I don’t think you do. She couldn’t possibly have any idea what I’m thinking. “And what’s that?”
She glances back toward the door, then around the hallway, where a few people in business suits talk as they walk toward us. “Let’s get a bite to eat and go talk somewhere. There was some sort of sandwich shop on the other side of the street and a park right next to it.”
I study her for a moment before nodding, my jaw tight. “All right.”
After grabbing a few subs in relative silence, we’re situated across from each other at a concrete picnic table under the spread of a California sycamore. This is a decent-sized park, with walking trails, a few basketball hoops, sports fields, and a playground. It’s nearly time for most elementary schools to let out, but for now, the place is rather deserted. The sun is shining, and the paper around our sandwiches rustles as we unwrap them.
Marilee snuggles down in her jacket, which she snatched from my truck on the way to the sandwich shop. “So, how do you feel that went? I liked him. He seems really competent, right?”
“Yeah.” I eye her. “But Lee?—”
“And”—she rushes on—“that means he knows the best plan for ensuring you get to keep full custody of Ryder.”
I squint at her from behind my sunglasses. “Sure. He seems to understand what the risks are and gave some solid advice for how to make sure we show up at court prepared to defend against the Comers’ baseless accusations.”
“Right.” Staring at her food, Marilee fiddles with the edge of her paper. She hasn’t yet touched her sandwich.
Then again, I haven’t touched mine.
Because there’s an elephant in this park, and he’s sitting on this table. Makes it a little difficult to think about eating.
And we can’t ignore it. “Sorry if any of his suggestions made you uncomfortable.” I pop open my bag of plain kettle chips.
Her eyes finally meet mine. “They didn’t.”
Oh.
I clear my throat. “I tried to jump in and explain that we aren’t together like that, but then?—”
“I got an idea, Jay.”
“What kind of idea?”
“What if…” She frowns, nibbles on her bottom lip in that way she does when deep in thought. “What if he’s right? That you being married is the best way to save you grief, time, and money?”
I stare at this woman I’ve known half of my life. I’ve always known what she’s thinking. She’s not the kind to hide her emotions. To hide much of anything from me.
But right now? I feel completely in the dark.
“You feeling okay, Lee?” I force a chuckle as birds chatter and call in the tree above us. “You do know I’m not engaged to anyone, right? And haven’t exactly been on a date in years, either.”
“I know that.” She huffs. “Look, this might be a really weird suggestion, and you can absolutely say no, but…what if we got married? In name only, of course. But it makes sense, right?”
There’s a buzzing in my ears, like bees have suddenly descended on our picnic. I glance right, left, but nope, nothing.
“Jordan?”
Inhaling sharply, my gaze reconnects with hers. She’s shrunk in on herself, huddled there, not just from cold, but a hit to her self-confidence. It’s the same posture she used to take when Donny was in the picture.
I hate that something I’ve said or done would cause her to sit that way.
Scratching my eyebrow, I weigh my words carefully. “Lee, that’s an incredibly generous offer, but I could never let you do that for me.”
“Well…maybe it would solve my problems too.”
I sit forward. “What problems?”
She shrugs. “If we got married for, say, a year, I could give Blake and Lucy the house without having to sell my portion to them. Give them their own space, try it out, without having to make a hasty decision. And, if you were okay with it, I could move into your house and not pay rent, so I could keep paying off my debt and maybe save up some extra money to either buy Marla out or?—”
“Or finally start your own cake decorating business?”
“Maybe.” Another shrug. “It just gives me a little time and space to figure out what I want to do next, you know? And I’d be happy to pick Ryder up from school every day and kind of take on a nanny role for him so that you could focus more on work in your busy season.”
But she wouldn’t be a nanny. She’d be my…
I swallow.
Geez. Nope. I can’t even entertain the thought.
Because the thing I’ve wanted more than anything is being offered to me here, on a shiny silver platter. But it comes with an expiration date.
And it would be an imitation of the real thing—like drinking diet soda instead of the good stuff.
But how do I tell Marilee that, when she has no idea how living with her—being married to her—would make it so much harder for me to not give in to my daily impulse to kiss her?
Not to mention, if we were married as friends, I definitely couldn’t tell her my feelings without risking our arrangement. Not without making it extremely awkward for both of us.
And yet. What she’s saying also makes sense.
Marriage would solve my problem with the Comers breathing down my neck. And being married a year would allow me to establish my business even more, to get Ryder through preschool and into full-day kindergarten, to help him adjust even more to his mother’s death.
And Marilee would get something she’s never been allowed before—the chance to take a risk on herself.
I drum my fingers on the concrete table. “I’m not saying yes yet.”
Something sparks in her eyes, and she sits upright. “I’ll take yet .”
“But if you did this for me, you’d absolutely be able to live with me free of charge. No rent, no contributions to groceries, none of it. I’m guessing Blake and Lucy would pay you a monthly rent, or you could rent your room out to someone else if they weren’t able to do that. Either way, you’d be getting some money paid to you for your portion of homeownership.” I take a quick breath, knowing this last part might be a deal-breaker for her. “And you’d have to let me cosign a loan for you, or pay you back in some way.”
“Jay, no. That’s not why I’m doing this. You wouldn’t have to pay me back. You’re my best friend.” Her eyes get misty. “I’d do anything for you and Ryder. And if this would help…”
“I know you would—but there’s still a really good chance that we don’t need to get married in order for me to keep Ryder.”
“You heard what Sam said. The Comers’ attorney is a shark. Sharks go for the jugular. And Jay, you’re too good a person to…” She pushes a tear away. Aw, Lee . “I don’t want you and Ryder to have to go through that. Not if we can fix it.”
I take a chip from my bag, break it in half. Hold the pieces in my hands. “But Lee, this isn’t just some small thing. It’s marriage. And I thought you told me you never wanted to get married again.”
The words are out before I can stop them. It’s something I don’t like to think about—that night when she cried in my arms after Donny had served her with divorce papers. When I told her that she was going to survive this, and that someday, she’d marry someone who saw the amazing person she was.
She’d responded with a declaration of her own.
“Yeah, well.” She juts her chin—a move I always find adorable. “It’s not a real marriage. Just on paper. If it makes you feel any better, we can establish some ground rules.”
I lift my eyebrows at this. “Like what?” My stomach growls, and I finally pop my broken chip into my mouth. The crunch sounds loud in my ears.
“I don’t know. Like, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Nice try. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s your house.” Then she takes a bite of her turkey sandwich.
“I won’t even entertain this idea if you’re going to insist on sleeping on the couch.” Thank goodness she didn’t suggest we share a bed. I respect the heck out of her, but a year of sleeping next to the woman I love without snuggling up next to her, embracing her, kissing her neck in the early morning?
Yeah. I’d prefer torture, thanks.
She chews, her eyes narrow, but finally swallows and smiles. “Fine. You win.”
Do I, though? I shake away my inner voice. “What else should go on this supposed list of rules?” Whoa, are we really thinking about doing this? I can’t truly consider what it would mean. Have to keep focused on the facts. The list. A contract. That should keep us safe, right? It would provide us a baseline, so there’s no confusion.
Otherwise, I know my brain—and my heart—might start thinking things are real and cross a line from which there’s no return.
I pull out my phone. “I can type the list out and then print it. We can even sign it. Make things official.”
“That would be good.” She averts her eyes, and is it the breeze or some other reason her cheeks look red? “Um, so I guess the biggest question would be about who we tell what. Because I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to lie to our friends about our reasons for marriage.”
Pressure I didn’t realize was clamping my lungs releases, and I blow out a solid breath. “Me either. And my parents too.”
“Agreed. But we’d have to swear them to secrecy. I don’t think that would be a problem though, do you?”
“Definitely not. My dad doesn’t really go out or talk to anyone. And Mom…” Well, Mom might have a few words to say about it, but she would also do anything for Ryder. “It won’t be a problem.”
“But the rest of the town…” Marilee pulls a piece off her ciabatta roll, squishes it between her thumb and forefinger. Then she looks up at me, a question there. “We act like a couple in front of them?”
And reality crashes back in. My thumb freezes over the phone screen, and the cursor in my Notes app blinks back at me. Accusing. “I mean, we’d probably have to in order to make it believable. But if you’re not comfortable with that?—”
“No, it’s fine.”
She’s so quick to agree. It makes me wonder…
But no. She’s just an affectionate person. We don’t hold hands often, but she’s always patting or squeezing my arm, resting her head on my shoulder when we watch a movie on the couch, giving hugs.
Still, there’s one glaring difference between friendly touching…and more than friendly. My throat burns with the question, but it has to be asked. “What about kissing?”
The bread tumbles from Marilee’s fingers onto the table. In the distance, the excited shouts of kids brim to the surface. But Marilee and I are still here, in this strange bubble, with this strange question hanging between us.
“Oh. Um.” Shaking herself, she picks up the bread again and tosses it onto the ground. A pigeon dive-bombs it. “I don’t think we have to make a big deal out of it, right? We’re both adults. If the need arises for us to kiss, we kiss.”
Like it’s so simple.
Like it wouldn’t be life changing. Earth shattering. A defining moment where time would only exist in the before and the after…
Then again, to her, it probably wouldn’t be any of those things. Just to me.
And, if it means more stability for Ryder, a chance to give Marilee the freedom to choose her path, to allow her space to discover herself, what she really wants for her future—I’m willing to face the torment of kissing Marilee and knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to her.
I’m willing to marry my best friend for a year.
I set the phone down and study her. “Are you sure about this, Lee? Because we can eat our lunch, talk about the weather, go home, and never discuss this again if you have any doubts in your mind.”
She blinks back at me, taking a while before she answers. “That’s the weird thing, Jay. I know I’m not the best at making good decisions. But one that means helping out the people I love best in the world?” Marilee tilts her head, and her cascade of hair falls to the side, shimmering in the sun. “That’s a no-brainer. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”