Luke’s mouth opened and shut, forming words that didn’t come out. He shook his head. “You want me to what? Hell no.”
Willow placed her hand on his thigh. “I need a fake relationship. Give me one year, and then I’ll go back to America, with my reputation intact, and you don’t have to have anything to do with us.”
“Wait, I didn’t say I didn’t want anything to do with you. I just meant . . . It’s a lot.”
“I know. People often say that the first reaction is the one you should listen to. You made it clear last night that this isn’t what you wanted. I’m just asking you for twelve months. That’s all. You can go on tour; I’ll go back to the States. I’ll say I was missing home. Whatever. We could even pretend we are doing long-distance for a little while, and then say it didn’t work out. Part ways as the best of friends.”
“Jesus Christ, Will.”
“Look at it this way. You get to be around for the pregnancy, for the fun stuff like scans. And you’ll get to be there for the birth, assuming you want to. It’s a business agreement with a contract. I pay you for the twelve months in return for confidentiality. Then, I get full custody, move back home, and never ask you for a cent.”
My kid. Her. Me.
While he didn’t want a relationship, or to be a father right now, surely she wanted or needed something more than just a business agreement, right? “I don’t know, Will. That sounds awful.”
“It’s just a year. Hell, try it for a few months. At least help me make it appear that this baby and you and me mean more to you than that one night. I already gave your band a huge leg up the ladder. You would never have got a recording deal without me. And I feel like you owe me because you are fifty percent responsible for this anyway.”
Fuck my life.
“Why do I feel like I’m being blackmailed into something I’d do simply because it’s the right thing to do?”
Willow shook her head. “There’s no blackmail. You say no, I leave.”
“Fine. But we need rules. I’m not lying to my friends. And I’ve not been a saint since I last saw you.” He saw Willow wince and tried to ignore the flash of disappointment that he’d let her down. “Could one of those women pop up in the media? Sure.”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take. We’ll spin it. We’ll say we hadn’t decided to be exclusive. That we were on a break because we couldn’t figure out how to make it work. Just . . . there can’t be any more. Not for this to work.”
“You want to tie up my balls too?” Luke asked. “A fucking year of celibacy?” Now, he needed a cigarette. Or some of his Scotch.
Willow scoffed. “It’s not as though I’ll be getting any for a good long while.”
“I can’t do that.” Luke grabbed his hair and tugged it at the roots. “This is a lot of changes.”
“Again,” Willow said, pointing down at her stomach. “At least you don’t have to deal with throwing up and growing an alien.”
“Fine, but this isn’t a race to the bottom, Will. This business agreement will suck for both of us. You can’t really want this.”
Willow looked wistfully toward the windowpane, where rain pattered softly on the outside. “No, Luke. In an ideal world, I’d be older, my husband would love me, we’d be settled in a nice home, and he’d be excited about the baby. So, no. This isn’t what I want. But it’s what I’ve got and I’m trying to make the most of it. And you need to step up.”
“How does this work in practice, then?” Luke asked.
“I live with you, in my own room is best so we don’t confuse things. We go about our lives like normal. But when we go out, we act like we are a couple. And we make social media content for my page that is totally in keeping with my brand. We start now, as a couple, just the two of us. Then, when I start to show, we make the announcement. And we generally just share our excitement with the world.”
Luke stood and took their plates to the sink. “I’m not much of a ‘share my excitement with the world’ kind of guy. I barely use social media. I’ll look like a performing dog if I suddenly start gushing fake sentiment all over it.”
Willow winced again. Fuck.
“Well, I’m going to have to make it look like I’m suddenly thrilled to be twenty-three, recently knocked-up, and in love with a man I haven’t seen in months. It’s called acting, Luke, and I’ll pay you to do it.”
Luke gripped the counter. “Can you stop with the comments about paying me? It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“It’s better this way. A contract, with boundaries and salaries, keeps all the emotions on the right sides of the lines. It avoids messiness.”
“Messiness?” Luke coughed. “This is already as messy as it gets.”
“You’re going to need the money, Luke. We need a new apartment. Bigger, with lots of light. And there are going to be trips. High-end hotels. And a half-decent journalist worth their salt will endeavour to find out who paid. You want them to find out the mother of your child is paying for everything?”
“Wait. I’m not moving.”
“You can’t think we’ll stay in your place. It’s too small. Especially when the baby comes. I looked online and read about the Golden Triangle. Alderley Edge, Wilmslow. Some place beginning with an ‘M’. It seems a lot of footballers live there. It’s only a thirty-minute drive away.”
Luke put his hand to his forehead. “For fuck’s sake. Stop a minute. I’m not moving. Matt and my sister live two floors above me. Ben, Jase, and Alex live a short walk away. We rehearse most days. I’ll concede the apartment needs some work inside, and that’s it.”
Willow frowned. “It needs to be aspirational, Luke. Nobody wants to see what life is like in an apartment they could afford.”
“Aspirational, my arse. It would be more realistic to tell the truth and show this is how you deal with things in real life, instead of fancy houses and holidays. It is what it is.”
“That’s why you need the—”
“Do. Not. Say. Money.”
“Fine,” she muttered, twisting her fingers together.
Luke took a deep breath. “Jesus, Will. Look. Do we have to have all this figured out today? You’re safe. You can stay. Let’s figure out the rest as we go.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “We’ll clean up. Decorate. Whatever. It’s my place so we’ll do it with my money.”
“Fine. We’ll split chores. I don’t mind cooking.”
“I don’t mind eating. What else do you need?”
“Just you to look at the contract.”
“Later.” Luke rinsed the dishes and noticed the sink was looking pretty grim. “God. This place is a pigsty. Sorry, Willow. Look. Go sit down or unpack while I clean up. I’ll make you a tea.”
“You don’t happen to have a coffee machine and decaf beans, do you?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got instant coffee.”
She grimaced. “No, thanks. Tea will be fine. Is it lemon tea?”
“No. Just regular PG Tips.”