Page 21 of Scrooge

“In exchange for marriage,” I blurt, wincing as she chokes, coughing up a mouthful of red wine, the liquid spilling from her lips and down her chin like she’s being exorcised.

“Shit,” I mutter, throwing a dishtowel at her, and she mops up her chin and wipes the table, her top now stained with red wine drizzles down the front.

“What the hell, Haylee!” she yells at me, her eyes wide and wild now that she’s stopped choking.

“Sorry, I should have waited.” The lame excuse slips past my lips, and I rest back in my chair and sip some more, the wine warming me up and making me feel less like a fraud.

“Please explain,” she demands, looking cross.

“He needs to lift his profile. Apparently, he isn’t well-liked, and people, his staff, clients, media don’t see him as stable and trustworthy. He needs a permanent person by his side to take the edge off. Make him appear loyal, dependable, like he’s a good guy.”

The contract was couriered to the shop this afternoon, and I read through it three times before I signed it and sent it straight back.

“And that person is going to be you?” she asks, trying to understand everything.

“Yep,” I say, popping theP, thinking about it all again. I can do it. It isn’t like I have much else going on in my life. If the toy store was gone, I’d only have my paintings. No boyfriend, no house, no job, hell, I don’t even have a dog. I would really like a dog, though.

“Haylee! No. No, no, no. I will not let you do that.” Her overprotective nature comes out as she shakes her head.

“We need to save the shop. This is how we do it,” I tell her steadily, and she frowns.

“But not to the detriment of you and your life, Haylee!”

“What life? I have nothing. No one. I need to do this. I need to do this for Mom and Dad. I need to do this for you—”

“No! You don’t. This is insane. Really, it is. What is he thinking? Is he just going to waltz into your life, pretend that you have dated for a while in secret, and what? Start to take you out on the town, to fancy dinners, get some paparazzi to take photos…” she trails off, and I huff a laugh.

“That is exactly what is going to happen. They are getting me a new wardrobe of clothes and a makeover because, you know, I need to look the part. Alexander marrying someone who looks like me isn’t believable.” That part hit the hardest, for some reason. Of course I am not his type. I’m just a regular girl. Living with my sister because I left an abusive relationship without taking a dime. Working in a toy store and playing with kids all day. Making silly little paintings in my free time.

“That is ridiculous. You are perfect the way you are. He is such an asshole. He can’t even find a wife, so he has to blackmail one. You can’t do this,” she says, pushing her chair out. She starts to pace in her tiny kitchen, obviously stressed that I am putting myself and my reputation on the line.

“I can and I will,” I state firmly. It is the only thing we have, and I am not going to fail at it.

“You are practically selling yourself for him. Not to mention, the media attention it will bring…” Jillian shrieks, shaking her head to herself and biting her lip.

“Which will be excellent for the shop,” I try to assure her. All news is good news and media attention on the store during our busiest season will no doubt boost our sales. Then I remember an important detail, tapping the table to get her attention on me. “I should have mentioned, it is only until the holidays. As soon as Christmas comes around, we’ll break up, the romance will puff in a cloud of smoke, and life will go on, with the two of us going our separate ways.”

She takes a breath, her shoulders lowering a little at knowing this isn’t a long-term thing.

I swallow my confusing feelings. It’s for the best. Sure, he is good-looking, but it’s his hard exterior with the softness hidden underneath that has me more intrigued by him than I should be. I need to remind myself that this is business only. No feelings, no real emotions. Everything is fake. As fake as all the dicks Deloris now has stashed away somewhere.

“But still… to get married? Don’t you want the first diamond ring you get to be from a man who loves you? A man who will get on his knee and give you the proposal you’ve always wanted,” she implores, coming back to stand before me.

I take a deep breath. I did always think that the man of my dreams would swoop in, ask my father for permission, and propose to me. Something low-key, maybe in front of my family or at home. I don’t need skywriting or a fancy restaurant. Shaking it off, I roll my shoulders. My family’s future is more important than my childlike sense of tradition.

“I don’t need that. I told you that I am going to be single forever,” I remind her of our conversation last week on the train.

“Of course you need that. Every woman needs that!”

“Shh, you will wake the kids,” I whisper-hiss. “I am not selling myself for him. I am selling myself for us. For those two kids in there, for Mom and Dad and everything they have built,” I tell her, feeling my chest swell, knowing this is the right thing to do. “We can’t tell anyone either. Just you and me.”

“Seriously? We have to lie to Mom and Dad too?” she asks, looking at me like I am batshit crazy, and maybe I am.

“Less room for error,” I murmur.

“Jaryd is such an asshole,” she seethes, then she grabs her glass of wine and swallows the rest.

“Jaryd? What has he got to do with this?” I ask, confused why she would bring up my ex.

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