12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Will
Ithink about Lizzie’s very valid question. I also think about how much it upsets me to hear that I was right about the police officer. I know Lizzie and I joke around, but I do want her to be happy. And I hate that this happened to her.
But I don’t know why hearing that it didn’t work out with him also makes me a little happy. Maybe it’s because I really do think she deserves better. Better than some creepy police officer and some delusional ex-fiancé.
And I don’t know why I think I could be good for her, even if it’s just as a fake boyfriend. But I hope it helps. Even if it helps those idiots who lost her see how much of an amazing woman they fumbled, then maybe I’ve done my job.
“We’d be helping each other,” I say.
“Yes, but in all seriousness, how are we really going to pull this off? I already mentioned the other day, when the crew was here, about my stupid plot to fake date you so I could deal with all the Billie issues I’ve been having.
They already know that was the plan, even though it never became a thing.
So how are we going to do it now and convince everybody it’s real when it’s not? ”
She’s pacing behind her desk now, not looking at me. I can tell she is half thinking out loud and half talking to me. I sit back in my chair, exhaling.
Maybe we are in over our heads. Maybe we are both at a point in our lives where we’re so desperate that the idea of pulling this off together is both something to look forward to and something that scares us. Or both.
I can tell it’s making her anxious, but I can also tell she is thinking about it, which is exactly what I need her to do. Every time my mind starts trying to think this through logically, I remember that I’m about to lose my trust fund if I don’t figure something out soon.
“And wait a minute,” she says before I can reply. “You still owe me an explanation.”
“Well, I was going to answer your questions, but you keep talking.”
She points a finger at me and tilts her head to the side, daring me to try her.
“First of all, do not act like that with me right now, Will Darcy. We are in a mess, and we are both trying to figure it out together. So if you agree to be nice, then I will be nice too. Deal?”
I take another deep breath before slowly exhaling. “Right. Deal. And sorry.”
I am so used to us going back and forth about one thing or another that it’s easy to fall back into that rhythm. We’re just so good at it that sometimes I forget maybe it can all become a little too much if we’re not careful.
So I look at her. Really look at her. And I realize that this woman I can bicker with, this woman who can handle it but also has no problem checking me, is also the woman I could definitely see myself in a relationship with.
A fake relationship, of course. But Lizzie is exactly the kind of woman I’d want to be with for real…if this were real. But it’s not. Since this is fake, I won’t think too much about it. At least I’ll try not to.
I can’t help but really see her as I look at her now. I think she’s so much stronger than she knows. She’s braver than she gives herself credit for.
She’s funny without even trying and she lights up a room whenever she walks in. She doesn’t have to try. I feel like wherever she is, she makes the space better. And on top of that, she’s beautiful. Not that I’d ever tell her that.
But as I look at her, I notice the way her curls fall effortlessly around her shoulders, framing her oval-shaped face. Her lips are full, and her skin is a deep, rich brown like mine.
Her big eyes are dark brown too. She’s average height, and I’m taller than her. She’s curvy and carries herself like someone who knows exactly who she is.
It hits me then. This could work. Us being together could be believable. She has everything I’d want in a woman, and she owns her own business. My parents would be impressed if we could pull this off. Or at least I hope they will be.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lizzie asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
My eyes travel back up to meet hers. I say, “I was just thinking that we could look good together. You are the kind of woman I’d pick for myself, and...”
“What do you mean you’d pick me? The other day you said I wasn’t your type.”
I let out a slow breath through my lips, slightly exasperated, rubbing my hands over my face. I’m going to have to explain a lot more to help her understand where I’m coming from.
“Look,” I begin, speaking slowly and deliberately so I don’t miss anything.
“I know this is all going to sound absolutely insane. But this whole plan is insane, so just hear me out. Basically, I come from a very wealthy family in Chicago. My family owns a successful real estate company, and I was supposed to take over the business and work for my dad. He was planning to retire soon and wanted me to be next in line as CEO, working alongside my sister. My sister stayed behind, and she still works at the company with the family. But I was always baking. That’s what I love to do.
Even when we had a chef. And I know what you’re going to say. You had a personal chef?”
“Yes,” she says, eyes wide. “You’re rich and have a chef? I always knew you were bougie.”
“I am not bougie. But my family does have a chef. They live on this huge estate. I grew up going to private schools. We had maids, and people to drive us places. I grew up having everything I ever wanted and needed. There was always one thing that made me want to give it all up.”
Lizzies asks, “What was it?”
“I couldn’t choose anything for myself.”
It’s easy to talk to her about this. I don’t think I’ve ever really talked to anyone about this besides my sister.
I continue, “Not only was I expected to go into the family business, but I was also expected to marry someone my parents chose for me. They had already picked someone because they wanted to seal a business deal for the company. She seems great on paper, but I don’t love her.”
“So, you left and came to Selah to open your own business? But you didn’t need to do that. You’re a trust fund baby.”
“Yes, well,” I say, pausing because she’s right.
“I have a trust fund. But being here in Selah Falls, meeting you, making new friends, and really starting my life over... I feel like I finally have a chance to prove to my parents that I’m not someone they can control anymore.
I’m not just their son that they can mold into whoever they want me to be. And maybe they won’t cut me off.”
She moves around her desk, sitting on the edge in front of me. She doesn’t speak, eyes glued on me as she waits for me to continue. I swear all she needs is a bucket of popcorn and she could be watching a movie.
I say, “I have a lot at stake here. I could lose my trust fund, access to my money, and my bank accounts if they decide to take everything away. But there’s something else.
My aunt, who was also wealthy and worked in the family business, passed away about a year ago.
She left me a house here in Selah Falls in her will.
It’s on the East Side of town. It’s big, it’s beautiful, it’s paid off, and it could be mine. ”
Lizzie raises an eyebrow at me and asks, “Then why are you living at the inn?”
“Because my dad is threatening to take that away too. To take everything away from me if I don’t live the way he wants me to. He even told me I could keep the house as a vacation home if I agreed to stay in the family business, move back to the city, and marry the woman he chose.”
“And you can’t do as he says?” she asks, voice low and concerned.
“You know I can’t.”
“But you’ll lose your family, your money and your home.”
“If I do what my dad wants, I’ll lose me.” The words are out before I can even think about it. But it’s the truth. The scary, hard truth.
Lizzie stands up and walks over to me. I stand up from my seat in front of her desk. She looks up at me.
I try to hide it, but I can’t. The vulnerability is evident. I can feel it in my stance, my breathing, my words. She can see it. I know it. She reaches out for me, opening her arms. I don’t have to think about it.
I accept the hug, letting her wrap her arms around me. I wrap my arms around her too, feeling safe. We stand there like that, in each other’s arms, for a long moment. When she pulls away, I want to pull her back in and stand here hugging her forever.
Lizzie stares at me as she slowly lowers herself back into her chair, never taking her eyes off me. She leans her head on one hand and studies me without saying a word.
I let the silence stretch between us. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s more like a much-needed pause for both of us to process everything. She breaks the silence first.
“I want to help you. I want to help both of us. But what happens when we stop pretending?” Her question leaves me floored because it’s one I haven’t really thought about, but one we should.
“We could break up amicably and continue as business partners. Or...” I trail off.
I don’t know what the other option would be. And would it even be wise to break up and keep working together, even if the relationship was fake? What happens when we have real romantic partners and they don’t like the idea of the two of us working together anymore?
I try again. “Maybe we could fake date while having a real business partnership for the rest of the summer. Then, in the fall, I’ll work on getting a bakery food truck or something and still provide baked goods for the cafe.
That way we can still work together. Our future romantic partners won’t get too jealous, and no one will question how we’re still able to work together after breaking up. ”
Maybe this could work. But only if Lizzie agrees.