“And what if it doesn’t?” she asks.
“I … I don’t know?”
“What are you going to do if someone discovers that you’re not really in love, that you’re faking this relationship? What if it blows up in your faces? And oh, my God, Mari. Does he know you’re pregnant?!”
I exhale. “No.”
“Mari! Why didn’t you tell him? Holy shit. This is bad. This is really, really bad.”
“Izzy, stop. It’ll be fine. I’m five-foot-nine. I doubt I’ll be showing much by the end of the summer, and I’ll just wear billowy tops and flowy dresses. It’s not like he’s going to see me naked. We’re not taking it that far.”
“You’re being wayyyy too optimistic about this.”
“For five million dollars, wouldn’t you be optimistic about this?!” I ask, my voice quick and hushed.
She’s quiet once more.
“He’s paying you five million dollars to be his fake wife?” Isabelle asks.
“Yep.”
“There’s got to be a catch,” she says.
“Nope. No catch. He’s just a desperate man with deep pockets.”
“Well. Shit. Um. Okay. Yeah. Do your thing. I hope it all works out for you. And if you need me, I’ll be here.”
“Really? I have your support?” I ask.
“Do you even have to ask that, Mar? You’re my best friend. You could do a lot worse than fake-marrying your asshole boss and I’d still have your back.”
“For a minute it sounded like you were trying to talk me out of this.”
“Of course I was trying to talk you out of this. I think it’s insane. I think it’s a terrible idea. And I think it could potentially end very badly for you. But for five million dollars, I guess you have to do what you have to do.”
“It’s definitely a gamble,” I say. “But we’re doing it. I’ve signed the contract. It’s happening.”
“There’s a contract?”
“Of course.” I pull my phone from my ear and check the time. “Anyway, he’s expecting me in his room right now, so I’m going to let you go. Call me tomorrow?”
“In his room?” She ignores me. “I thought you said you weren’t going to have sex with him?”
“I’m not. We’re going to watch Netflix,” I say.
“A week ago you hated this guy. Hated him. And now you’re going to chill in his bed and watch TV.” Isabelle exhales. “This is just … weird.”
“Wait ‘til you see the engagement ring. I’ll send you a picture later,” I laugh. “It’s so over the top and so not me and you’re going to die.”
“I can only imagine.”
Six
Hudson
* * *
“You look uncomfortable.” Mari pulls her legs up to her chest, her body covered in satin pajamas with white trim. “Can you do me a favor and not make this any more awkward than it already is?”
I scoff. “I’m not making it awkward.”
I’ve managed to find the remote, and the TV quietly rises from the foot of the bed. Good to see it still works.
“You are. You’re all the way over on that side of the bed.” She points. “And I’m over here. Not that I want to, but maybe I should be lying in your arms?”
Her forehead wrinkles, but she seems to be waiting for me to make the next move.
“All right. Fine,” I say, pulling up the covers. I place my arm out and motion for her to scoot closer.
Mari doesn’t hesitate making herself right at home, nuzzling against me, her head resting on my shoulder as we sink into the pillows behind us. I don’t think I’ve ever held a woman like this—at least not in a non-sexual way and not since college.
“Where’s your remote?” she asks.
I hand it over, watching as she maneuvers the guide like a pro and manages to pull up Netflix and log in. Within a minute, some opening credits are playing and a bunch of women’s faces are flashing on the screen. The lighting is garish and the music is high-tempo and obnoxious, but I keep my opinion to myself. Something tells me it wouldn’t matter with her anyway.
“You smell good,” Mari says quietly, turning to me.
“What?”
“I like your cologne. I’ve always liked it. Just never had the chance to tell you.”
“Thanks.” I offer a half-smile. “I’ve worn it for years. It’s my signature scent.”
“I’ve never known a man who had a signature scent before,” she says, though I think she’s teasing. “Does it help with your energy?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m messing with you.” She shoves me gently. “You’re always talking about how things mess with your creative energy.” Mari swats her hand. “Never mind. It was funnier in my head.”
“I’m sure it was.” I roll my eyes. “Why don’t we watch this show that you insisted was so addictive?”
“Do you think we should hold hands?” she asks a few minutes later, just as I was actually becoming slightly invested in what’s happening on the screen.
“My arm is around you.”
“Obviously,” she says, exhaling. “But maybe we should hold hands? After a while, maybe it’ll actually start to feel natural? You know, every boyfriend I’ve ever had couldn’t keep his hands off me, and here I have to basically remind you that you should be touching me.”
“I’m not like those other men.”
“Clearly.”
“I’m not the touchy-feely type,” I say. “Never have been.”
“That’s too bad.” I feel her eyes on me. “You know, studies have shown that when you touch someone, it stimulates these feel-good hormones or endorphins or something like that. Human touch is powerful. Sometimes it can even trick your brain into thinking you’re in love.”
My gaze snaps to hers. “The last thing I need is my brain insisting I’m in love with my fake wife.”
“Trust me, Hudson,” she says, half-smiling. “You’re not going to fall in love with me. I won’t allow it.”
Seven
Mari
* * *
“Heartbeat is strong. Measurements look good. I’d say you’re about six weeks and two days.” The strawberry-blonde nurse replaces the sonogram Doppler and snaps off her latex gloves before rising. “Congratulations. The doctor will be in shortly to answer any questions you may have.”
She leaves, flicking the light back on before closing the door, and Isabelle glances across the room at me. She didn’t have to come, but she insisted that I not be alone.
“So have you decided what you’re going to do?” she asks.
“I’m keeping it.”
“I know that. I mean, like, are you going to stick around the city? I hear Brooklyn’s pretty family friendly,” she says.
“No.” I climb off the exam table and move toward the sink, grabbing a paper towel to clean the gunk from my belly. “I can’t afford to raise a baby in the city. I’ll have to go back home, maybe live with my parents until I can get on my feet. Maybe move to Omaha and find a job in the city? You know what they say, Omaha is the new Manhattan.”