Page 27 of Accidental Fiancé

“I’m sure it is, in some cases. But for a lot of them, each piece they wear garners them a payout from the company that sent them that piece. Assuming the picture goes viral, of course.”

“You’re serious about this.”

I nodded. “If they do it right, they can make enough to buy a car with one picture.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but she only laughed. “I’m about to be kicked out of my apartment because my bakery burned down, yet they can buy a car with money they make simply from wearing clothes and getting their picture published. Clearly, I got into the wrong damn business.”

Just hearing that made me want to give her money but I knew I couldn’t. She’d never take it, and she’d be insulted the same way she was by Nora’s well-meaning job offer. Her pride would never allow it.

“It’s not all glitz and glamor for them if that makes you feel any better.”

“How so?”

“I’m sure it sounds like nothing to you given your circumstances but imagine being beholden to that kind of pressure. Not being able to age or change your physical appearance. Choosing what you wear based on who will pay the most for you to wear it, not because it’s something you want to wear. Being stalked, getting chased by the paparazzi, and having your picture taken everywhere you go. Never a true moment of rest or privacy. Not knowing if your kids will be kidnapped and/or bullied because of some decision you made or whether their accomplishments will ever be considered to be their own, not due to you and the connections you afford them.”

She bounced her head from side to side, considering what I said. “Since I ate ramen for most of the past week, I’ll happily trade their problems for mine right now.”

“Great. I’m an insensitive jerk.”

She giggled. “You’re not too bad.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know that, Jules. But what was your point in all of that?”

Time to come clean. “I don’t date, Maggie.”

“You just said?—"

“Those aren’t dates. They’re publicity stunts. Nothing more. Since Claudia left, I’ve gone out a few times but none of it meant anything. Before she and I started dating, I had a couple of girlfriends, but it was never serious.”

There was no sense in making her feel bad by telling the truth. Maggie had given me unrealistic expectations of what women were like. She had set the bar too high without even meaning to, and by the time I figured out that was the reason why I was disappointed in the girls I dated, I’d papered over my crush and moved on. Or at least, I tried to.

I finished college and built my business. By the time Claudia came along, she heard my family name and clamped onto me ashard as she could, thinking we were still wealthy. I did my level best to keep her thinking that because money was all I could bring to the table. I thought love would come eventually. I was wrong.

I admitted, “If I’m being honest, I don’t think I had a realistic idea of what marriage should be. I’m not saying that to excuse Claudia’s affair. But I’d be lying if I put it all on her.”

“How is her affair your fault?”

“I don’t mean it like that.” I wasn’t sure how to explain it. “I was in my late twenties when we got married, and I’d never seen what a good marriage was supposed to look like. My parents, well, you saw how they were before Dad died.”

She swallowed. “They were… loud.”

I huffed at that. “I think part of it is a Greek thing. But yeah, the shouting, the plates breaking… loud is a good word for it. My grandparents were loud, too. I actually thought your parents had the perfect marriage until your dad’s thing. Point is, I never saw what a good marriage was so I tried to make one out of what I thought it should be. I was working all the time and so was Claudia. But she was pretty and knew which fork to use at family dinners; I guess I thought that would be enough to build on.”

Her tone was sweet but her words were harsh. “Young and stupid, huh?”

“Naïve might be a nicer way to put it, but yeah. Definitely.”

“So you don’t date at all?”

“I’m the CEO of a multibillion-dollar company and a single father. Dating is a time suck. So, no, I don’t date. Not in any real capacity. Which means my family has little to no expectations of the woman I bring with me to the party.”

“Hm.” She sipped her juice. “Okay, but it’ll cost you a wardrobe suitable for the week.”

“Wait—is that why you asked what my exes dressed like?”

She smiled and nodded. “If we’re selling me as your fiancée, they won’t believe you’d downgrade to someone whose wardrobe staple is yoga pants and old tee shirts. That’s not the kinda girl you’d marry.”

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