15. Orson
15
Orson
Seven weeks ago, I told my best friend that I had married Lily Harper. I’d repeat the entire conversation, but I’m pretty sure Jake could teach some government agencies a thing or two with his interrogation techniques.
It was always going to be a shock for anyone. But it was going to be worse for Jake. He knows me too well. He’s also a psychologist, so he can read my mind. At least, that’s how it feels sometimes.
He called me again last week and invited Lily and me to a dinner party.
“You want to check out my story?” I joked.
“Maybe. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not delusional. Maybe your grandfather pushed you to the edge and you’ve had a psychotic break. Maybe Lily being your wife is just a figment of your imagination.”
I could hear him smirking.
“Thanks, man,” I replied sarcastically.
“You’re welcome. So, are you going to come?”
“Well, I have to check with my imaginary wife first, but I don’t see a problem.”
Lily was surprised that Jake and I were still close. I suppose we haven’t been “married” long enough for her to know too much about me yet. Our lives are pretty busy. She’s up before the sun and works pretty late, and I’m not much different. In fact, there have been days when we haven’t seen each other at all.
Which is why tonight has turned out far better than I could ever have expected. Apart from the fact that she looks beautiful in a soft pink summer dress and sandals, she smells intoxicating. On several occasions during the evening, I’ve draped my arm around her shoulders. Sure, I have to play the part of the newlywed, but it’s certainly no great inconvenience, either.
And, of course, everybody loves her, like I knew they would.
The evening takes a strange turn, however, when we start playing truth or dare. Of course, I choose dare. Jake can smell a lie from me, and I can’t take any chances.
Nowhere on this planet could I have imagined that Jake would ask me to kiss Lily, and while I’m not completely averse to the idea, I have to think of protecting my pretend wife. I’ll be honest; I’m shocked when she agrees to it. Not as shocked as I feel when we kiss, though.
I’m not an idiot. I’m attracted to her. Any hot-blooded male with eyes would be. She’s gorgeous. And yes, there have been occasions between us when I’ve questioned what’s actually happening. But the evening wasn’t the same for me after that kiss. I can’t explain it. All I know is that it feels like someone threw gasoline on a candle, and I don’t want to put out the fire.
At the end of the evening, numbers are exchanged, and there are lots of hugs and embraces. Lily is excitedly chatting to Wendy, Tara, and Phil when Jake gives me a hug.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, man. She really is something else. You’re a lucky son of a gun.”
“You mean, you can see her, too?” I feign disbelief.
Jake chuckles. “You’re a funny guy.”
“I know, right?”
Once we’re in the car and I’m driving down the street, I suddenly feel self-conscious, like I don’t know what to say. Being around everyone else, we couldn’t really discuss it. But now, we have an hour-and-a-half drive back to Willow Creek. Should I bring it up? Is she going to bring it up? Do we just ignore it?
About ten minutes pass, and I can’t help myself.
“I’m sorry about Jake and the whole dare thing. And, you know, I didn’t want to—I mean, I wasn’t sure—”
“Orson, you’re rambling,” Lily says.
When I glance over at her, she’s smirking at me.
“I am, aren’t I?”
“You are,” she confirms.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry you got put into that position.”
“I’m a big girl,” she comes back. “I could have said no.”
“And yet, you didn’t,” I say openly, hoping she’s going to tell me why.
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? For everyone to think we’re married?”
“Yes, of course, but I didn’t think you would…” I trail off because I’m not sure what I want to say.
When I glance at her again, she’s full-on grinning at me.
I look at her knowingly. “You’re pulling my chain, right?”
And then she giggles, and my heart skips at the beautiful, soft sound. She reaches over and grabs my hand, catching me off guard.
“You know we don’t have to pretend anymore. There’s no one watching.”
“I know,” she says, not letting go of my hand.
And then nothing more is said. I’m nearly afraid to ask where this is going, and Lily is clearly enjoying keeping me hanging on a line. And yet, sitting here, driving home with her hand in mine, feels like the most natural thing in the world. So I’m just going with it.
When we get back to the apartment, she lifts up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Good night, Orson. And thank you. I had a great time.”
I can only stand there watching her stroll down the hallway before she disappears into her bedroom. I’ll be honest, I’m feeling a little shell-shocked at the turn of events, but not in a bad way.
Okay then.
The next day, after a weird night's sleep and some dreams I’m not going to go into, I’m in the office when my phone rings. I look at the caller ID, and for the first time in a while, I smile. Not that I don’t smile all the time. I just don’t usually do it when my grandfather is calling.
“Hey, Pops. What’s up?” I say, sounding annoyingly blasé.
“I need to see you, Orson,” he growls into the phone.
“Oh, another two-hour drive for a five-minute conversation?”
“And bring your marriage certificate with you,” he snarls, before hanging up.
Dropping the phone on the desk, I lean back in my super comfortable office chair and grin from ear to ear. He thinks he has me, but he doesn’t, and after another moment of smugness, I buzz through to Gloria and get her to clear my calendar for the afternoon.
“When I told you to get married, I didn’t expect you to marry the first girl you met,” Pops snarls across the desk.
“You didn’t really give me a choice, did you?” I say from the leather chair opposite him. “You wanted me married in four months, and so I’m married. Or perhaps you didn’t really want me to get married at all. Maybe you thought I didn’t have the stones to do it, and it was the only way you could con me out of my inheritance.”
“Let me see it,” he demands, gesturing eagerly with his hand.
Now, the thing is, I know my grandfather very well. So well, in fact, that I knew there was no way he was going to believe I was married just because his spies told him I was. And thus, even before the weekend away at Lake Tahoe, I had already made some inquiries of my own.
As it happens, there are quite a lot of rather talented graphic designers online. With a yarn of how my wife is devastated because a small flood in the house destroyed some of our precious possessions, including our marriage certificate, the designer made me a near-perfect copy with stamps, seals, and everything. I mean, she really did amazing work.
Which is why my grandfather, with his bifocals and a magnifying glass, is currently scrutinizing it. I’m not sure he would know what one looks like, and of course, he knows it might not be real. But therein lies the beauty of the whole thing. He can doubt, but he can’t prove.
“You know I can call the public records office to find out if this is legitimate, don’t you?” he says, eyeing me with every ounce of suspicion he can muster.
Okay. I didn’t see that coming. My heart thumps in my chest, but I retain my poker face. Slumping back in my chair, I throw my hand out to the phone that sits on his desk. “Call them,” I say, with a confidence I do not feel at all.
I’m bluffing with my future empire here, and if he lifts that phone, this is all over.
Pops looks at me for the longest minute of my life. I’m using every ounce of energy I have to keep from crumbling under his steely gaze. This is make or break time. I’m used to holding my nerve in cutthroat deals, but this is in a different league.
“Fine,” he relents, though I know it’s not fine at all. He doesn’t believe me, and I still don’t know that he won’t call the public records office the moment I walk out the door. But I’ve made my play now, and there’s not a darn thing I can do about it.
Like I said, stubbornness gallops in this family.
But the two of us are as stubborn as each other, and while I won’t back down, he won’t allow himself to be humiliated by making a phone call.
Stalemate.
“Who is she?” he says, his tone now far less dangerous.
I smirk. “You know the answer to that question, Pops.”
There’s not a doubt in my mind that he’s done his homework. He’s that thorough; he probably knows Lily’s family tree better than she does.
He smirks back. “Lily Harper, daughter of June and Graham Harper. Graham started his bakery in Willow Creek in 1974. Her father is dead; her mother is in nursing care with a diagnosis of dementia. She has two sisters—”
I wave my hand at him. “Is there a point to this?”
“The annual gala is next weekend,” he says, not answering my question. “I expect your new bride to be on your arm. Then I will decide if the marriage is real.”
As usual, I leave the estate feeling angry. What does the old man want? Blood? I’ve met his demands, ridiculous and unrealistic as they are, and he’s still not satisfied.
By the time I get back to the apartment, I’m in a foul mood. I’ve spent the entire journey home stewing in my resentment, and slamming the door, I storm into the living room.
“Are you all right?” Lily says, jumping off the sofa.
“Do I look all right?” I snap back.
“What happened?”
“My grandfather is determined to ruin my life. No big deal. There’s a gala next week, and we have to attend as a couple. He wants to make certain we are, indeed, married.”
Lily’s eyes fly wide, and I can see panic flash across her face.
“Don’t worry, Lily. Your precious little bakery will be safe.” It’s a horrible thing to say, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Her shock tells me I’ve crossed a line, and I mean, way over.
“Lily—”
“Forget it,” she spits, storming past me.
A minute after that, I hear the front door slam.
Great. Perfect. Well done, Orson, you complete idiot!
I could go after her, but I think we both need some time to cool off. I was mean and nasty, which isn’t me at all. I’m just feeling the pressure, which is no excuse. Lily has done everything I’ve asked of her so far. And I’ve asked a lot. She’s the last person I want to hurt.
Two hours later, Lily still isn’t home. I’ve called her phone about ten times, but no answer. The worry is eating at me, and grabbing the car keys, I leave the apartment. I need to find her.