Chapter 5
BEN
Red picked what might be the nicest restaurant in Chicago. Leather booths line the establishment walls, each one offering privacy most places only hint at. Career waiters in pressed vests walk around with perfect posture, and a live jazz trio plays softly on a small stage.
This is exactly the type of venue I’d normally choose for an important dinner. Discreet, impressive, with security that ensures paparazzi won’t be sneaking photos of whoever’s dining here tonight.
Which is why I’m surprised by how nervous I am.
I’ve negotiated many contracts in rooms like this. I’ve sat across from CEOs who could buy and sell small countries. And yet I’ve never felt my palms sweat or had to consciously control my breathing before a business meal.
But then again, I’ve never had this much riding on a performance before.
“You okay?” Freya’s voice is soft beside me as we follow the hostess to our table.
Freya is wearing a simple black dress, her red hair swept up in a way that shows off the delicate line of her neck, the engagement ring sparkling on her finger.
She appears every inch the sophisticated fiancée of a successful businessman.
She also appears nervous, which is oddly comforting.
“I’m fine,” I lie, adjusting my tie for the third time in five minutes.
“Ben.” She stops walking and turns to face me, forcing me to stop too. The hostess continues ahead, clearly expecting us to follow when we’re ready. “You’re not fine. You’re doing that thing where you get all rigid and scary.”
“I don’t get rigid and scary.”
“You absolutely get rigid and scary. Chill out, okay? Think of it this way… Red and Marnie aren’t your employees; they’re potential friends. You need to relax.”
She’s right, of course. I can sense the familiar armor sliding into place, the same emotional walls I put up whenever I feel out of control. In business, that armor serves me well. It makes me appear calm and authoritative even when deals are falling apart around me.
But this is a different kind of enterprise, the kind of situation that I’ve never encountered before. This is about convincing two strangers that Freya and I are in love, which requires me to be vulnerable in a way I’ve spent years avoiding.
“How am I supposed to relax when everything depends on tonight going perfectly?” I ask.
“Hey.” She reaches out and straightens my tie, her fingers gentle against my chest. The touch is meant to be reassuring, but it sends electricity through my entire nervous system.
“It’s going to be fine. We don’t have to pretend to be comfortable with each other. We are comfortable with each other.”
She’s right again. Despite all my anxiety about tonight, being with Freya is the most natural thing in the world. It’s everything else, the lying, the performance, the knowledge that my entire professional future might depend on how convincing we are, that has me tied in knots.
“Besides,” she continues with a small smile. “What’s the worst that could happen? They figure out we’re faking it? You lose one contract. You’ll make ten more.”
I want to tell her it’s not that simple. That this isn’t simply one business deal. It’s the agreement that could establish SkyNova as a major national player. Losing it wouldn’t just be a setback; it would be a public failure that could damage my reputation for years.
But observing her face, I realize she already understands all of that. She’s trying to give me perspective, to remind me that there are more important things than commercial success.
Like friendship. Like the person standing in front of me, who agreed to this insane plan because I asked her to.
“You’re right,” I respond, and I’m surprised to find that I actually mean it. “It’s going to be fine.”
“There’s my fake fiancé.” She grins and slides her hand into mine, the gesture so natural it takes me a moment to remember it’s part of the performance. “Now come on. Let’s go charm the pants off these people.”
Red and Marnie Dawson are already seated when we reach our table, and they both stand to greet us.
Red appears exactly like he did in Texas, weathered, no-nonsense, the kind of individual who’s spent his life working with his hands.
Marnie is dressed up, wearing a pearl necklace and big earrings, with silver hair and bright blue eyes that miss nothing.
“Ben!” Red’s handshake is as firm as I remember. “Good to see you again, son.”
“You as well. Red, Marnie, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Freya Hull.”
Freya steps forward with a smile that’s both genuine and radiant. “It’s so wonderful to meet you both. Ben’s mentioned so much about you.”
“It’s so good to meet you, Freya,” Marnie declares with a laugh, pulling Freya into a hug that catches both of us by surprise. Clearly, the Dawsons are huggers.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Freya replies, sounding completely genuine.
And maybe she is, because I get the feeling she’s having fun with this whole charade.
And just like that, the tension in my shoulders starts to ease. I did well bringing Freya. This is what she does; she makes people feel comfortable, welcomed, like they’ve known her for years instead of minutes.
We settle into our booth, Red and Marnie on one side, Freya and I on the other. The seating arrangement feels intimate, like we’re old friends catching up rather than strangers navigating a professional dinner disguised as a social occasion.
“So, Freya,” Marnie states once we’ve ordered drinks, “Ben mentions you’re an artist.”
“I am. I do graphic design during the day to pay the bills, but my real passion is painting.”
“What kind of painting?” Red asks, and I can tell he’s genuinely interested rather than making polite conversation.
“Abstract work, mostly. I studied art in college, and I experimented with a lot of different modalities, but abstract acrylic is what I always come back to.”
“That sounds beautiful,” Marnie responds. “And probably completely over my head. I can barely draw stick figures.”
“I bet they’re the most amazing stick figures ever,” Freya declares with full seriousness.
As if on cue, Red and Marnie light up with laughter.
“I like her.” Red juts a finger at Freya. “You understand how to pick a girl, Ben.”
I find myself watching her as she talks, noting the way her eyes light up when she discusses her work, the graceful movements of her hands as she gestures.
This is Freya at her best, passionate, articulate, completely unselfconscious.
She’s not trying to sell anything or impress anyone. She’s being herself.
“What about you two?” Marnie asks, turning her attention to our relationship. “How did you recognize Ben was the one?”
The question catches me off guard, and I feel my carefully prepared responses evaporate. We should have practiced this. We should have scripted answers to the obvious questions.
But Freya doesn’t miss a beat.
“Honestly? It took me a while to figure it out,” she mentions, glancing at me with an expression that’s soft and fond.
“Ben’s always been this incredibly driven person, you understand?
Even in high school, he had these huge goals and this laser focus on achieving them.
I used to think that meant there wasn’t room for anything else in his life. ”
“What changed your mind?” Red asks.
Freya pauses, and for a moment I think she’s going to struggle with the answer. But then she smiles, and when she speaks, her voice is warm.
“I realized that his drive isn’t about ambition for its own sake. It’s about wanting to make a difference, to build something meaningful. And once I understood that, I started to see that there was plenty of room in his life for the things, and people, that mattered to him.”
The words hit me harder than they should. She’s describing me in a way that’s more generous than I deserve, painting my workaholism as noble purpose rather than compulsive behavior. But there’s something in her voice that makes me wonder if she actually believes what she’s declaring.
“That’s beautiful,” Marnie responds, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “Young people today are so afraid of commitment, but you two clearly understand what love really means. And when’s the wedding?”
I freeze. What am I supposed to respond?
I was hoping that Red would get off my back after tonight’s meal, but now I realize it won’t be that easy. He’ll still be paying attention.
With a jolt, I realize I’ve made a terrible error. Pretending to be engaged for a dinner is one thing. But taking it any further is impossible. Freya and I can’t actually get married. That would be…
“In less than two months,” Freya declares. “July twenty-second. We would love it if the two of you could make it.”
My jaw must hit the floor. The words came out of her mouth so easily, like it was nothing in the world.
Red and Marnie light up. “Oh, we would be honored, sweetheart.” Marnie clasps her hands together.
My face turns warm, and I struggle to keep myself together. What on earth is Freya doing? Does she not understand what she just promised?
Despite my own panic, though, she’s cool and collected, still smiling easily and sipping her wine. I try to catch her eye, but she avoids me, instead transitioning into asking Marnie about what she likes to do in her free time.
Freya might not understand what she just did, but I comprehend perfectly well. I’ve just lost the agreement of my career.