Chapter 23
BEN
The pool catches the golden hour’s rays, sending the light dancing across the deck. Sitting in an Adirondack chair, I stare at the blank paper in front of me.
Vows… Vows…
Okay, I can do this. I can write my vows for tomorrow.
Or I could call Anthony up and ask him to hire a writer last minute to do it for me.
Shaking my head, I pinch the bridge of my nose. No. I can’t do that. Freya deserves better than that. She deserves the world.
Which is why this whole thing is so stupid. I should be writing from my heart, and yet I can’t bring myself to do it, because that would mean exposing myself completely—something I’ve never done.
The right vows would express love. Devotion. Adoration. Admiration.
All of it would be true, and yet getting up in front of everyone and saying these things to Freya, with her thinking I’m only playing a character, feels so wrong.
I take a deep breath and force myself to put pen to paper.
Freya,
Years ago, you walked into my elementary school classroom, shared your crustless peanut butter and jelly with me, and changed my day for the better. You’ve been changing my whole life ever since.
I pause, surprised by how easily the words came. Maybe this won’t be as difficult as I thought.
You taught me that there’s more to life than goals and achievements. You showed me what it means to be truly seen by another person. You’ve been my anchor, my compass, my best friend, and the person who makes me want to be better than I am.
The words flow faster now, like a dam has broken somewhere inside me.
I love the way you scrunch your nose when you’re concentrating on something difficult.
I love how you still get paint under your fingernails even when you’re not working on anything.
I love that you remember everyone’s birthdays and send handwritten cards.
I love how you can make anyone feel like the most interesting person in the room just by really listening to them.
I love that you’re brave enough to pursue your dreams when most people could never bring themselves to.
I love that you called me out when I was being an ass as a teenager, and you still call me out when I’m being an ass now.
I love that you’ve never been impressed by my money or my success.
You love me for who I am, not what I’ve accomplished.
Yet at the same time, you’re still proud of everything I’ve done.
Wait.
I stop writing and read a particular line again.
You love me for who I am.
Do you, Freya? Do you actually love me? Or are you just incredibly loyal to someone you consider a friend?
I keep writing, my hand moving almost without conscious thought.
I love that you make me laugh, even when I don’t want to. I love that you’re the only person who can drag me away from work and make me remember that life is supposed to be lived, not just endured. I love that you see beauty everywhere—in art, in nature, in people who think they’re ordinary.
I love that you’re strong enough to stand up for what you believe in, and soft enough to cry at sappy movies.
I love that you dance in your kitchen when you think no one’s watching.
I love that you still save the last bite of dessert for me, even though you pretend you’re doing it because you’re full.
I love your kindness, your creativity, your stubbornness, your laugh. I love the way you smell like vanilla and paint and grass at the park. I love the way you fit perfectly against my side when we used to watch movies together.
I love everything about you, Freya Hull. I have loved you for years, probably since that night you made me watch fireworks instead of studying. I’ve been too afraid to admit it, too focused on building a successful life to risk the most important thing in it.
I stop writing abruptly, my heart pounding.
Everything I just wrote is true. Every single word.
I’m not writing vows for a fake wedding. I’m writing a love letter to the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
I’m completely, utterly, devastatingly in love with Freya Hull, and I’ve been lying to myself about it for years.
The realization hits me like a physical blow. All this time, I’ve been telling myself that what I feel for her is friendship, affection, protectiveness. I’ve convinced myself that the reason I’ve never been able to commit to a woman is because I’m too focused on my career.
But the truth is that no other woman has ever measured up to Freya. No other woman has ever made me feel the way she does—like I’m the best version of myself, like I’m enough exactly as I am.
I’ve been in love with her since we were teenagers, and I’ve spent fifteen years running from it because I was too much of a coward to risk everything for love.
But what if I don’t have to risk everything? What if she feels the same way?
I think about the way she looked at me the other night on her doorstep, the way she leaned in like she wanted me to kiss her. I think about how hurt she seemed when I pulled away, how distant she’s been ever since.
What if she pulled back not because she doesn’t have feelings for me, but because she thinks I don’t have feelings for her?
What if we’ve been lying to ourselves and each other this entire time?
I look at my watch. It’s almost six o’clock on Friday evening. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m supposed to marry Freya in a ceremony that we’ve both been treating as an elaborate performance. But what if it doesn’t have to be fake?
What if I tell her how I feel?
The thought terrifies me more than anything else I’ve ever done. But it also fills me with something I haven’t felt in years—hope.
I grab my keys and sprint to my car, my mind racing as I drive through rush hour traffic toward downtown. There’s something I need to do before I talk to Freya, something that will show her I’m serious about this.
The jewelry store where we bought her engagement ring should still be open. I pray they’re still open. I find a parking spot three blocks away. I run the entire distance, probably looking like a madman to the tourists and shoppers strolling along the sidewalk.
David, the same sales associate who helped us pick out the engagement ring, looks surprised to see me bursting through the door five minutes before closing time.
“Mr. Lawlor! How can I help you? Is everything all right?”
“I need a ring,” I say, slightly out of breath. “There was a ring Freya fell in love with when we were here before, but she wouldn’t let me buy it for her.”
David’s eyes light up with understanding. “The oval diamond with the twisted band. From the artisan collection.”
“That’s the one. Do you still have it?”
“I do. In fact, I’ve been holding onto it because I had a feeling…” He trails off with a knowing smile. “Let me get it for you.”
While David retrieves the ring, I pace the small showroom, my nerves getting the better of me. What if Freya doesn’t feel the same way? What if I’ve completely misread the situation? What if telling her how I feel ruins not only our fake engagement but also our real friendship?
But then I think about my father’s words at coffee yesterday, about how he regrets settling for a marriage without real love. I think about Anthony’s question about whether this arrangement is worth losing Freya. I think about the vows I just wrote, every word of which came straight from my heart.
I can’t marry her tomorrow while pretending this is all fake. I can’t stand up in front of everyone we know and promise to love her forever without her knowing that I mean every word.
“Here we are,” David says, presenting the ring in its small velvet box. “I have to say, this is the most romantic thing I’ve seen in twenty years of selling engagement rings.”
The ring is even more beautiful than I remembered.
The oval diamond catches the store’s lighting perfectly, and the twisted band has an organic elegance that’s pure Freya.
She fell in love with this ring the moment she saw it, and I had my head too focused on business to really understand what that meant.
“She’s going to love it,” David continues as he processes my payment. “I could tell when she first tried it on that it was meant to be hers.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing outside Freya’s apartment building with the ring box in my pocket and my heart hammering against my ribs. I haven’t called or texted to let her know I’m coming. I have no idea what I’m going to say beyond the truth I should have told her years ago.
I buzz her apartment number and wait, bouncing on my feet with nervous energy.
“Hello?” Her voice comes through the intercom, sounding tired.
“Freya, it’s me. Can I come up? I need to talk to you.”
There’s a long pause. “Ben, it’s late. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it can’t. Please. This is important.”
Another pause, then the buzzer sounds to let me in.
I take the stairs two at a time, too anxious to wait for the elevator. By the time I reach her floor, I’m breathing hard again, though whether from exertion or nerves, I can’t tell.
Freya opens her apartment door before I can knock. She’s wearing pajama pants and an oversized sweater, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looks beautiful and comfortable and slightly wary.
“What’s so important that it couldn’t wait twelve hours?” she asks, stepping aside to let me in.
For a moment, I just look at her. This woman who has been the most constant presence in my life for fifteen years. This woman who knows me better than anyone else in the world. This woman I’m about to risk everything for.
“I was writing my vows,” I say finally.
“Okay. And?”
“And I realized that everything I was writing was true. Not fake, not performance, not part of our arrangement. True.”
Freya goes very still. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I love you, Freya. I’m completely, hopelessly, devastatingly in love with you, and I have been for years.”
She stares at me like I’ve just told her I’m an alien from Mars.
“I know this is terrible timing,” I continue, the words rushing out now that I’ve started. “I know we have a wedding tomorrow that we’ve both been treating as fake, and I know this complicates everything. But I can’t marry you without you knowing how I feel.”
“Ben…”
“I should have told you years ago. I should have been brave enough to risk our friendship for the chance at something more. I should have kissed you the other night instead of pulling away like a coward.”
“You pulled away because of our agreement.”
“I pulled away because I was terrified. Because I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen years old, and I was too afraid to admit it even to myself.”
Freya sinks onto her couch, looking stunned. “You’re in love with me?”
“Completely. Utterly. The kind of love that makes you want to be a better person, the kind that makes everything else in life make sense.” I move to kneel in front of her, pulling the ring box from my pocket.
“I know this is crazy. I know you might not feel the same way. But I had to tell you before tomorrow.”
I open the ring box, revealing the oval diamond she fell in love with months ago.
“Freya Hull, I’m not asking you to marry me for business or publicity or any other practical reason. I’m asking you to marry me because I love you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Because I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”
Freya stares at the ring, tears starting to form in her eyes.
“Will you marry me? Really marry me, not as part of some arrangement, but because you want to build a life together?”
For a long moment, she doesn’t speak. She just looks at me, and I can see her processing everything I’ve just told her. My heart is beating so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t echo in the small apartment.
Then, suddenly, she launches herself off the couch and into my arms, nearly knocking me over.
“Yes,” she whispers into my neck. “Yes, of course. Yes!”
“Really?”
She pulls back to look at me, and I can see tears streaming down her face.
“Ben, I’ve been in love with you for years.
I’m starting to realize I agreed to this fake engagement because I thought it was the only way I’d ever get to be close to you like this.
I’ve been dying inside thinking you saw me as nothing more than a helpful friend. ”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m serious. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I was too afraid to tell you because I thought you’d never see me as anything more than your weird friend from high school.”
I kiss her then, finally, after years of wanting to. When we break apart, we’re both laughing and crying at the same time.
“We’re idiots,” I say, resting my forehead against hers.
“Complete idiots. We could have been doing this for years.”
“We can make up for lost time.”
I slip the ring onto her finger—her real ring finger this time—and it fits perfectly, just like I knew it would.
“Freya, about tomorrow,” I say, suddenly serious.
“We don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.
I know we have three hundred people coming, and the venue is paid for, and there will be a lot of disappointed guests.
But if you want to wait, if you want to have a different kind of wedding that’s just about us—”
“Are you insane?” she interrupts. “I’ve been planning this wedding for months. I have the perfect dress, our extended families are flying in, and I’ve been dreaming of marrying you since I was eighteen years old. We are absolutely getting married tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t care about the business deal anymore. I don’t care about my public image or what anyone thinks. I only care about doing what’s right for us.”
“What’s right for us is getting married tomorrow and starting the rest of our lives together.” She kisses me again, quick and sure. “Besides, someone has to make sure you actually say those vows you wrote. From what you told me, they sound pretty good.”
“They’re the truest thing I’ve ever written.”
“Then let’s make them official.”