Page 24 of Married With Lies

Cale Connelly.

Just the echo of his name bouncing through my head sends me under the blanket with a groan.

Last night’s conversation was so surreal that I kept checking my phone for confirmation. But the text showing the ten grand transfer never disappeared.

A few hours of restless sleep hasn’t helped me sort out the tidal wave of confusing feelings attached to Cale’s offer. I can’t dismiss his plan as insane because it’s clear that Cale is far from insane. He’s smart and calculating and perceptive. In the space of a few minutes he was able to decipher my weakness and design a plot that would fulfill his objective. Both admirable and terrifying.

Also terrifying is the fact that I considered accepting on the spot. Cale’s scheme would be a legal arrangement that would give me everything and cost me nothing.

Really, it’s no different than two people getting married for health insurance.

I saw a movie about that once. But of course by the end the two people had fallen madly in love and I don’t want that ending. I have zero desire to fall in love with Cale. I just want to save Bright Hearts.

Yet there’s no chance of saving anything or anyone while I lie here moping in a canopy bed on Christmas morning.

On ordinary days I’m up and about much earlier, eager to see to the needs of the ranch. I’m usually shoving a quick breakfast into my mouth and chasing it with a cup of Peggy’s herbal tea just as the first rays of sunlight are cracking the sky.

My phone pings with a new message and I scramble to reach it on the nightstand. I’m afraid it’s a text from Cale, demanding an answer to his ‘proposal’.

Nope, just Gus. What a relief.

The Abernathy’s poodle swallowed a tiny baby Jesus so I was up all night in surgery. Drove out to BH at dawn to check on things and Peggy forced me to stay and eat her homemade cranberry scones. All is well at the ranch. Dottie and her new puppies are thriving. Hope you’re having a Merry Christmas and not being tortured too much in NY.

Gus knows about my family struggles and my broken engagement and that my most treasured possession is the signed fan photo of Elton John hanging on my bedroom wall. When big news happens in my life, Gus tends to hear about it. Under ordinary circumstances she would have already received an earful about the shocking Christmas Eve marriage proposal from Cale Connelly.

These, however, aren’t ordinary circumstances.

These are Cale circumstances.

Cale warned that I wasn’t allowed to repeat our conversation to anyone. I’d rather not find out what happens when you cross him. Probably nothing good. Maybe something very bad.

The possibility ought to terrify me to the marrow of my bones.

Yet a funny thing happened between the time I climbed into his glossy sports car and the time he returned me to my father’s doorstep.

I wouldn’t say I felt tranquil. Far from it. My head was spinning in twenty directions. But any fear I had of Cale himself had evaporated.

He wasn’t the least bit charming. He was blunt and often rude. He also did not hide his intentions. He told me what he wanted and he explained why I should agree with him.

Even if I still want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, I have to admire his candor. Also, I assured him I would tell no one. No matter my flaws, I do keep my word.

I stare at Gus’s text.

Then I flip to the money transfer text from Cale.

Then I return to Gus’s text and compose an answer.

Thank you for being the guardian of BH. Can’t wait to be back home. Hope no more Baby Jesuses (or whatever the plural is) get eaten today.

No lies detected. It just feels that way. When you have a best friend and you’re used to giving your best friend important updates, leaving out jaw-dropping information feels the same as lying.

With a sigh, I fling the fluffy pink comforter aside and sit up, wincing at the chill. I wasn’t joking when I told Cale that my father’s preferred house temperature is meant for the cold-blooded.

I wish I was back home in my small cozy bedroom with the eclectic braided rag rugs made by Peggy and the fireplace crackling. Above my bed is my idea board, a patchwork of pictures and words that showcase all my biggest dreams for the ranch. If I repair and modernize the barn we can accept horses. The new building I sketched out would allow us to double our dog population.

But if I don’t find a way to pay off the creditors breathing down my neck, the ranch will be lost. And every living thing sheltering there will be homeless.

A very bleak thought. I’m still sinking under the weight of it when my eyes land on Cale’s jacket. It was a very considerate move, wrapping it around my shoulders when I shivered. He’d driven away by the time I realized I was still wearing it. And now it hangs there on the back of the desk chair like it’s the specter of Cale himself, beckoning, taunting, promising to solve all my problems.

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