Chapter 13 #2
I sigh and spill everything. The chance encounter with Joe Kensington at UCLA Hospital when I had no clue who he was.
The way we connected over lukewarm coffee at 2 AM while the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
Then the batshit crazy marriage proposal—not for himself, but for his grandson—followed by last night's awkward meeting where Max glared daggers at me and tried to trip me up while his grandfather outlined terms like we were negotiating a corporate merger.
"I still can't figure out why Joe's so determined to see Max married," I tell them, shrugging.
"But sometimes I wonder if Max's perfect life is just gift wrap around an empty box.
Behind those magazine covers and billion-dollar deals...
maybe there's just a guy who's completely alone. You know what they always say - if you think someone has it all, look closer.”
When I finish my story, the girls sit in stunned silence.
Their wide eyes and frozen postures remind me of people staring at a Dali painting for the first time, trying to make sense of clocks melting over barren landscapes.
Lexi finally breaks the silence, her head shaking so hard her earrings sway.
"I can't let you do this," she says, her voice cracking.
"You won't marry a perfect stranger just because—"
I press my trembling hand over hers. "It's done.
I signed a contract." The words hang between us as I search her face.
Her expression shifts like quicksilver—first shock, then anger, a flash of something like envy, then settling into shame.
Of course she's conflicted. Max Kensington has been her celebrity crush for years, the untouchable, unbelievably handsome and sexy billionaire she's followed in magazines.
Now her sister is marrying him. For her.
For Mom. I swallow hard as a realization forms: the shame in her eyes isn't about my sacrifice—it's about knowing she wouldn't do the same for me.
That knowledge cuts deeper than I expected.
"Just tear up the contract, sis," Lexi says, tapping her fingernail against the table.
"I didn't sit through Business Law 101 for nothing.
Contracts against public policy don't hold up in court.
This is textbook void—literally textbook.
You can't legally bind someone to marry another person, especially not with money changing hands.
That's, like, nineteenth-century stuff."
"Lexi, you think I didn't consider that?
" I snapped. "The second I signed that contract, I panicked.
Spent half the night researching legal loopholes.
" I tap my wine glass against the table.
“Is it void because it’s against public policy?
Maybe, but unlikely. It's not like Joe’s paying me to divorce his grandson, which would be an illegal contract, all day long.
And this arrangement is like a dowry, which is perfectly legal.
The only restriction on dowries is you can't force payment.
" I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Even if I wanted out, Joe would unleash lawyers who bill more per hour than I make in a week. We can't afford to fight that."
Last night's desperate research session had cost me sleep and money.
The Westlaw trial subscription alone had eaten half a day's pay.
I scrolled through case law until my vision blurred, finding only the faintest possibility a judge might void the contract.
But realistically? Joe's legal team would crush that argument.
Just imagining myself stammering before a judge while surrounded by a team of Harvard-educated attorneys in tailored suits had sent me hyperventilating into a paper bag at 3 AM.
Lexi's arms fold tight across her chest, her chin trembling.
"Goddamn it, Celeste. I never should've opened my stupid mouth about UCLA.
You've sold yourself off because of me." She blinks rapidly, fighting tears.
"If I'd known you'd do something this crazy, I would've just quit school and never said a word. "
Olivia squeezes Lexi's shoulder. "Be grateful you told us.
We'd never have forgiven you for throwing away everything without a word.
What your sister did took guts." She glances at me, eyes soft.
"When you're up on that stage accepting your Oscar someday—and you will be—you better thank her first. She's the reason your dream stays alive. "
Lexi falls silent, but I see through her anger.
My little sister isn't mad at me—she's ashamed.
The guilt is written all over her face: that our family's situation has come to this, that the only solutions we could find were her abandoning film school or me signing marriage papers with a stranger for cash.
"Man," Tally says with that smile that always breaks tension, "a whole year with this guy? What if he's secretly filming you? Or worse—what if he's the next Dateline special waiting to happen?"
"Is Dateline even still on?" I ask.
She nods, eyes wide. "Oh, it'll never die.
Not as long as there are creepers in the world.
" She leans forward. "And trust me, that supply chain isn't breaking down anytime soon.
Even Jerry Springer eventually ran out of people willing to throw chairs, but Dateline? They've got material for centuries."
I sigh, my shoulders dropping. "I doubt he's hiding bodies in his basement.
" But my voice lacks conviction. The truth is, I know as much about Max Kensington as I do about quantum physics. I’ve spent all of about a total of 5 hours with the guy, all of which was spent with him glaring at me and trying to trip me up in front of the grandparents.
“It doesn't matter anyway. This is the only option I have left. "
Olivia's face crumples, and I slide my arm around her shoulders.
"I know," I whisper. "Wednesday nights won't be the same.
" For three years, we've guarded those evenings like sacred territory—no dates, no work events, nothing could intrude on our Netflix ritual.
"Remember how we've gotten each other through everything since you moved in?
And now Malibu might as well be another planet. "
"Like when Mark dumped me for Lisa?" Olivia's voice cracks. "You crawled into bed with me for a week straight while I was a complete disaster."
God, what a week that was. I'd unlock the door after work to find her in her bed with a nest of empty Ben & Jerry's containers, scattered paperbacks with tear-stained pages, and that remote she clutched like a lifeline, frantically channel-surfing through her pain.
Each night, I'd slide under the covers beside her with fresh popcorn and tissues, gently prying the remote from her fingers to find something—anything—that might anchor her attention away from the heartbreak for even an hour.
I'd drift off right there beside her, our breathing eventually syncing in the blue glow of the screen.
Seven nights we repeated this ritual until finally, she found the strength to plant her feet on the floor again.
Tally's eyes narrow, her lips curling into that shark-like smile that always precedes a verbal massacre.
She lets the silence hang for exactly three beats before launching her attack.
"For God's sake, this table looks like someone just announced the apocalypse!
Celeste, snap out of it. We're talking twelve months of your life.
Then? Freedom, baby. Or who knows—maybe you'll end up actually wanting the guy, which, hello, have you seen those abs?
Win-win either way. Look, I know sharing oxygen with someone you can't stand makes every minute feel eternal, but this is temporary.
So enough with the tragic heroine routine.
You're literally living in oceanfront real estate with a walking Calvin Klein billboard while collecting a paycheck for it, not serving hard time in some gulag.
Get a grip." She punctuates this by slamming her martini down, glass meeting table with a crack.
Behind the brutality, though, her eyes hold that fierce protectiveness only true friendship can explain—Tally's unique brand of tough love that never lets you wallow for long.
I giggle, setting off Olivia and Lexi too. We do sound ridiculous, like we're auditioning for a telenovela instead of discussing my life. Tally makes a fair point—twelve months will vanish in a blink, and then I'll be initialing divorce documents.
But wait—Mom. Her face materializes in my mind, disappointment etched in every line.
A one-year marriage? The woman taught me that wedding vows were sacred promises, not temporary contracts.
Her heart will shatter. I press my lips together, resolving: she cannot know about the arrangement with Max.
Lexi knowing is already one person too many.
Mom will never comprehend why I'm marrying him or why I'll leave him just as quickly.
I've tangled myself in a web I can't possibly explain away.
Lexi's eyes soften as she reaches across the table, her fingers cool against my knuckles. "Ces," she whispers, her voice catching. "I was awful before. About all of this. But I can see it now—you're terrified for Mom. What are you going to tell her?”
I inhale slowly, counting to three. "I'll figure it out. But you can't breathe a word, Lex. Not one. Swear to me. She's counting her sunrises these days, wondering how many she has left. The last thing she needs is to carry this burden too."
Mom….what will I tell her?