10. Lauren
LAUREN
Lauren could barely focus on work. She tried, but her head was spinning with other thoughts so much that the words on the computer screen blurred in front of her eyes.
Finally, she closed her laptop and leaned back in the ergonomic desk chair James had bought for her.
It was a Saturday anyway, so it wasn’t the end of the world if she didn’t get anything done.
Even thinking those words felt like a betrayal of all Lauren had worked for over the past decade, but there was nothing she could do. She’d tried.
For one thing, she was exhausted. She’d been unable to sleep until late last night.
Running into James in the kitchen had only made things worse.
She’d been clad in only her pajamas, while he’d been dressed as usual in a suit and tie.
She’d never actually seen him wear anything else.
The power dynamic had been all off, and though she’d tried to play it cool, she’d been nervous.
It was strange to see James in the middle of the night.
Intimate. It reminded her that they weren’t just rivals anymore.
This whole week had been nerve-wracking.
She’d thrown herself into work as much as possible, but it was still strange to be living in James’s house.
Everything here had been picked out for her by James himself, from the desk chair to her sheets.
It was a strange feeling to be living in someone else’s house like this, and she didn’t like it.
Worse, this morning, she’d gotten another email from her immigration lawyer.
He’d congratulated her on her wedding and let her know that she needed to start putting together proof of the marriage and preparing for potential interviews or follow-ups from immigration.
He said it would be easy. They needed pictures of time together, letters from people who knew them both, proof of shared finances, and documentation from trips and experiences together.
None of that was easy, because it was all a lie. She and James didn’t actually go on vacation together or share fun times or finances.
That was why she’d told James they needed to start going out together.
And it meant that tonight, she’d actually be out on a date with James.
It was a fake date, of course, meant to convince people that they were married, but it would still mean several hours sitting across from each other at a table, sipping wine and making small talk.
The mental image made Lauren’s heart race.
She went for a walk, tried to work again, and ended up reading for a while to take her mind off things.
Finally, around six, she went into her closet and picked out a yellow dress with tiny white flowers that she knew was flattering.
Then she put it back and chose a little black dress instead.
Finally, after three more changes, she settled on a dark purple dress with a low back and a long skirt.
Next came her hair. Lauren agonized for a long while over how to do her hair and makeup, which jewelry to pick, and which shoes to wear.
She rarely struggled this much with her outfits.
Even for her own wedding, it had been an easy choice of what to wear.
She’d only owned one white dress, and she wasn’t about to go buy another that she’d only wear once.
If it had been a real wedding, she would have. But this hadn’t been real.
Lauren took in her reflection in the mirror.
She looked nice. Her hair was down around her shoulders, she’d gone for light makeup and silver earrings, and the purple dress flattered her curves.
She smiled… then the smile faded. Maybe she looked too nice.
Lauren didn’t want James to think that she was trying to impress him.
Lauren let out a frustrated sigh and turned away from the mirror. She wasn’t the kind of person who spent time agonizing over stuff like this. She needed to just push through this evening and get back to her life. She couldn’t let James mess with her head.
Finally, it was time to meet her “husband.” Lauren found him in the hallway as agreed, wearing slacks and a nice shirt.
“Where’s your suit jacket and tie?” she asked.
“I thought a more informal look was better for this evening. Shall we take my car?”
“Let’s take mine.” Lauren smiled at the thought that this was an informal outfit for James. He probably didn’t even own sweatpants.
They took the elevator down to the parking garage, where they got into Lauren’s car. James told her the name of the restaurant, which she put in her phone’s navigator app, and they set off.
Lauren was glad she was driving. It gave her a place to look and something to do with her hands so that she couldn’t focus on James as much.
Still, she was aware of his presence beside her and the faint smell of his cologne.
He turned on the radio, which was tuned to a classic rock station, and nodded his head to the beat.
“I didn’t know you liked classic rock.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Lauren responded. She took the next right onto a main street that led down the hill where most of San Valentino’s rich and famous lived.
“Have you been to La Romana before?” James asked, referring to the restaurant where they’d be eating.
“No.”
“Do you eat out much?”
“Not really.” Lauren glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Why?”
“Well, I just don’t know what you’ve been eating. You don’t eat the food from my personal chef. I haven’t seen you cooking, and you said you don’t eat out.”
“James Pembrook.” Lauren chuckled. “Are you worried about me?”
“No, no. I just can’t have my fake wife expiring from starvation right under my nose. That would be a bad look. I can already imagine the news articles.”
“Sure. Well, I’ll have you know that I eat a lot of packaged salads and sandwiches. That way, I can always grab something from a grocery store when I get hungry.”
James made a face. “That doesn’t sound very appetizing.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like I have time to cook or to sit in restaurants and wait for my food.”
“You could hire a private chef or at least get takeout.”
Lauren didn’t reply for a long moment. It was true, she could, but the idea honestly hadn’t occurred to her. One side effect of growing up in poverty was that she didn’t think the same way people like James did. The world wasn’t full of possibilities for her.
“I guess I could,” she said.
“Do you not have takeout in Canada?” James asked in his usual teasing tone.
“You should really visit Canada sometime. It might surprise you. We have plenty of things, and we have better food than the dry salmon I saw you poking at.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
They arrived at the restaurant. A valet met them at the car and took Lauren’s keys. Inside, a ma?tre d’ led them directly to a small table in a windowed alcove overlooking the street. It was laid with a white tablecloth and decorated with three candles of different heights.
“Very romantic,” Lauren said as she took her seat. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” James took his menu. “What are you having?”
Lauren scanned the menu and settled on a salad and pasta.
The prices made her wince, but she could afford it.
She wasn’t destitute anymore, and she was saving some money by living with James, though she continued paying rent on her apartment just in case.
Still, the part of her that had been unable to afford a loaf of bread as a child still lurked in her mind.
They placed their orders. The waiter returned with the bottle of red James had ordered and poured them each a glass.
Lauren took a long sip of hers, hoping to quell her nerves, and looked around the restaurant.
It was an upscale place. Small groups and couples sat at secluded tables around the large room.
The restaurant smelled of tomato sauce, garlic, and cheese.
Lauren’s stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten lunch.
“What do you think?” James asked.
“It’s not bad,” Lauren said.
“Good. I haven’t been here before either. Usually, I take my clients to steakhouses or seafood places.”
“Why didn’t we go to one of those?”
“We’re pretending to be married, right?” James said. “So, we need to act like married people. I wouldn’t take my wife to a steakhouse on a romantic date.”
“Right.” Lauren took another long sip of her wine.
“That makes sense.” She wasn’t so sure, though.
Were steakhouses known throughout the world of the rich as unromantic places?
These kinds of small, unspoken things still baffled her.
It was hard to tell what was common knowledge and what was just personal preference.
Their first course arrived, and they both dug in. Lauren’s salad was crisp and delicious.
“How’s work going?” she asked as she put together a second bite.
“I’m not going to tell you.” James grinned. “I don’t want you targeting my clients again.”
“Me? Target your clients? You must be mistaken. You’re the one who targets mine.”
“Never. Your clients are too small for me.”
“And yours are too stuck-up. You know, I was trying to poach one when he told me he could never work with a woman. Can you believe it?”
James winced. “PR can still be a boys’ club here sometimes.”
“It really can,” Lauren agreed. “I’m used to people not taking me as seriously because I’m a woman and not from here, but it was strange to hear someone come out and say it.”
“Who was it?” James asked.
“A restaurant chain.” Lauren named it.
“I’ll keep my eye out for them.”
“Because they were rude, or because I was trying to poach them?”
James raised his glass to her. “Both.”
“I have to ask,” Lauren said suddenly. “Where did the rings come from?”
“The rings?”
“The wedding rings.” Lauren held up her hand, and the silver band flashed in the candlelight. “I completely forgot to get any, but you had them. Did you buy them?”