9. Liam
9
LIAM
T he following evening, I walk into the kitchen to find Whitney sitting at the counter with an unopened bottle of rosé.
“You want some?” she asks.
“Sure,” I reply. She tugs at the silverware drawer, the motion smooth and easy ever since I fixed the thing. After she told me it wasn’t working, I took it upon myself to mend it, and it turned out to be a simple task.
Whitney’s brow furrows, and she looks at me. “It’s fixed,” she says in awe.
I shrug, glancing away from her bright brown eyes. “It was easy to do. I can show you how if you want.”
A smile spreads across her face, and I can’t help but stare at the sight. I’ll fix a hundred drawers if it means I can see that damned smile on her face one more time. “Thank you for doing that,” she says.
“No big deal.”
She pours me a glass of wine and hands it to me, clinking her glass against mine.
“To new beginnings?” I offer.
“If you’re waiting for me to forget that you told me to fuck off, you’re out of luck.”
Despite myself, I laugh. “So, chore wheel?” I prompt. Whitney grabs a shopping bag and empties out the contents on the counter.
“I am so excited. I may or may not have spent $100 at Michael’s.” She plugs in a glue gun and hands me a packet of construction paper.
“Wow,” I chuckle under my breath. “You were serious about that craft stuff.”
“Absolutely,” she replies, tossing me a packet of glitter. “I have a scrapbooking addiction.”
She spends the next ten minutes showing me exactly how she wants to build the wheel and assigns me to cutting duty, noting that it’s one of the only things I can’t screw up. I’m elbow deep in glitter and glue when I finally set my tools down and take a deep breath.
“I have something I need to ask you,” I start, not totally sure how to breach this topic with someone I hardly know.
“Is it about the shade of pink? Because I was also thinking it’s too pink.”
“It’s not about the pink,” I cut her off. Reaching across the counter, I place my palm over hers, and meet her eyes. Her hands are soft and warm. I blink at her, and the corners of my mouth tilt upwards automatically, bracing myself for her reaction. I’m sure this will go over like a pile of bricks, and yet I find myself excited for her reaction. I take a deep breath, and pose the question I’ve been waiting all day to ask:
“Will you marry me?”
Whitney looks like she might be in shock. She’s gaping back at me, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Listen, I’ll be straight with you. I overheard you gossiping with your friend about your… dilemma,” I tell her.
That gets her attention. She snaps her gaze to me, her eyes hard. “You were eavesdropping on me? In my apartment?”
“Our apartment,” I correct her.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s mine, and I don’t gossip. Two women talking is not gossiping.”
I hold my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Do you have to take everything I say as an insult?”
She narrows her eyes. “Maybe because your tone is insulting!”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, inhaling and closing my eyes. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…
When I feel calm enough to not say something stupid, I open my eyes “Bottom line is I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”
She whistles out a laugh. “Wow. I actually don’t need your offer, but good to know my private conversations aren’t as private as I thought.”
“Come on. I heard you. You need the money to start your business.”
“That was private!” she seethes. “As in, not for you to hear.”
“I wasn’t intentionally listening to your conversation. It just happened,” I explain.
“Well, next time, put some fucking headphones in.”
It’s quiet for a moment, so I press on. “What’s holding you back? Talk me through it.”
“I don’t even know you!” she exclaims, throwing her craft supplies in the air. “And what I do know of you is really not winning me over. You’ve already told me to fuck off and ruined my craft night.”
“Pretend you do know me. Talk to me.”
She sighs, a heavy, lengthy sound, and reaches for her wine, taking a deep gulp. “Well, besides the fact that I don’t know you , and that this is probably illegal, I am actually looking for… it .” She shifts, her cheeks coloring slightly.
“Looking for what?”
“Love. A relationship. And maybe… marriage at some point,” she admits.
“Okay, well, maybe that’s still possible. What’s our timeline? Three years only, right?”
“Stop acting like this is happening!” she replies, her voice rising. “But yes. At least three years for everything to be processed. It’s not a single payout, she has it spaced out in three parts.”
Now, that stops me.
“Wait, the money won’t be immediate?” I clarify.
“No, only the first part.”
I push off the counter and head for the living room. “Alright, well, forget it then.”
She follows me and tugs on my shirt sleeve, stopping me in my tracks. She narrows her eyes at me. “What does that have to do with anything?”
I smirk down at her. “Well, sweetheart, I’m only doing this for the money.”
“What the hell do you mean? It’s my money.”
I shake my head. “Nah. You’re gonna split it with me, wife .”
She almost spits out her wine. “There is no way.” Her voice is ice cold and her gaze even colder.
I shrug like I couldn’t care less. “Alright, good luck finding someone else to marry you. You’re such a peach, I’m sure you’ll have no problem at all.”
She ignores my insult. “Why do you need the money?”
“Like you said. It’s private. I don’t care what this business venture is that you’re using your half for, so don’t ask about my half. That’s my one condition. We split the money, 50/50.”
“We are not doing this!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air.
“Listen, I’m not thrilled about the idea either. The last thing I want to do is marry you.”
“Gee, thanks. You really know how to propose to a girl.”
“The point is, I need the money and so do you. This is a win-win opportunity for both of us and nothing more than a business deal. There’s no need to think any more into it.”
“How about this… ” she trails off, her voice dripping with honey. “You marry me, and I won’t kick you out of my apartment.”
I rear back, shocked. I definitely underestimated this woman.
“You can’t do that,” I stutter. “I live here now.”
She laughs. “Oh, yes I can. You are not on the lease. You haven’t paid me a dime —”
“I Venmo’d you for utilities and sent Olivia the rent!”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t sound very legally binding to me, and I’m pretty sure if I called the landlord or the cops, you’ll be out on your ass before you can say ‘til death do us part.”
A growl escapes me, my body tightening with anger. This is not going the way I expected.
“What about you? If you kick me out, who’s gonna be your rent-a-husband?”
“So it’s a mutually beneficial agreement. You marry me, you can stay here.”
“I still want a cut,” I shoot back. “That’s a shitty deal for me, and you know it.”
She eyes me, her expression wary and suspicious. I’m absolutely certain she’s going to tell me to bugger off and pack my shit when she crosses her arms and meets my gaze head-on.
“70/30.”
“50/50,” I retort.
“65/35, and that’s my final offer. I could kick you out right now, you know.”
I pause. Thirty-five percent of a million bucks is certainly enough for me to honor Luke. Plus, I really can’t afford to move again right now.
“Deal.”
I stick my hand out, waiting to shake. She stares down at it, a mixture of uncertainty and excitement on her face. Something about the openness of her expression churns in my gut, but I don’t have time to examine it.
She’s about to meet my hand when she suddenly pulls back. “Wait. What’s our dating policy?”
“What do you mean?”
She shifts on her feet. “Like, this marriage is obviously fake, and if it’s going to last three years… it’s not like you’re going to be celibate that whole time, right?”
I blink back at her. How had I not considered this? I’d honestly assumed this conversation would not come up, and sex has been the last thing on my mind lately.
“That won’t be an issue,” I say.
An awkward silence settles between us.
“Well,” she starts. “We’re only married on paper. I guess it’s okay with me if you see other people as long as you’re… discrete about it. I feel like it wouldn’t be fair to expect either of us to just stop having sex…”
I don’t bother replying.
She nods, mostly talking to herself at this point. “Okay. That works. We can both see other people, but we have to pretend it’s real for everyone else. We can’t tell anyone. Well, besides Abbi. I already told her.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.”
It’s not like I even have anyone to tell.
“Alright, then. I think we’ve got a deal.” She reaches out and shakes my hand before collapsing onto the couch. “Am I really doing this?” she says out loud, more to herself than to me.
“Hey, we shook on it. No backing out on me now, Rhodes. Or shall I say, the future Mrs. Clark.”
She shoots daggers at me, her eyes wide. “Oh my God, shut up. There is no way I am taking your last name.”
I guess we’ll see about that.