Page 113 of Imperfect Arrangement
“Thank you, Willow. It’s so beautiful. Look, we match now.” Quill’s face is full of wonder as she places her wrist next to Willow’s. The sight of their identical bracelets makes my chest tighten, overflowing with emotions threatening to spill out.
“I’m so glad you like it,” Willow replies, pulling Quill into a hug. “I hope this is the best birthday ever, Bug.”
THE SOULMATE WAR
WILLOW
“Finding a perfect soulmate through a website? That sounds like the corniest clickbait I’ve heard in a long time.” Alex doesn’t bother masking his disapproval as his glare locks on to Vincent Belmont—the man lounging across from him with effortless swagger.
The dim lights in the pergola catch the glint of his eyebrow piercing, while colorful tattoos peek from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his crisp white button-down. Vincent doesn’t look and act like a tech mogul. No, he looks like a rock star who decided to dip his toes into the business world just for fun.
If we can ignore the tension crackling like a downed power line between these two men, Quill’s birthday party has been a huge success. Most of the guests have already trickled out—the kids from Quill’s school, Ray’s parents and extended family, my mom and nana.
Now it’s just Raymond’s cousins. The only two outsiders not related by blood or marriage are me and Chloe’s plus-one, Vincent Belmont.
“Every good business idea has a couple of haters, Mr. Teager,” Vincent replies smoothly, unfazed by the heat coming off Alex like a burning furnace. He flashes an easy grin, looking at Chloe. “What do you think, babe?”
“Absolutely.” Chloe lays a hand on Vincent’s forearm, like she’s making a point.
I meet Daisy’s gaze across the table, my eyebrows practically shouting,What the hell is happening here?
Because as much as Chloe is acting like she’s about to jump on Vincent’s lap any second and give him a lap dance in front of her brother and cousins, her face says something else. She isn’t interested in the man that way. Their dynamic is too easy, too familiar. If I had to guess, they’re best friends—the kind who share an almost sibling-like bond. Yet the whole act is enough to rattle the usually calm, composed Alex Teager.
“You’d be surprised how many people struggle to connect with a potential partner in today’s world,” Vincent continues, his voice filled with genuine passion for a change. “With our app, we will give them a chance to take the relationship as slow or as fast as they’d like. Instead of throwing out a bunch of half-assed match percentages, we will only connect them when there’s a hundred percent chance of compatibility. From there, they can decide how they want to communicate—text, email, phone calls, even handwritten letters. We promise to maintain complete anonymity until both parties feel ready to reveal their identities. They will progress at their own pace—dating, engagement, marriage—and we will support them till the end. Our team of counselors and relationship therapists will be deeply involved to help them navigate this unusual journey.”
“Wow, that sounds…” I mumble.
“Amazing, right?” Chloe practically bounces in her seat.
I nod. “It really is. You take away all the stressful parts of dating.”
Vincent tilts his head to the side. “If you’re interested?—”
His words are cut off by a low growl from beside me. Raymond’s arm drapes over my shoulders, his body heat curling around me like a claim. “You don’t see my engagement ring on her finger? Or my sleeping daughter’s head in her lap?”
At his words, I glance down at Quill, sprawled across the bench, bundled up in her yellow comforter, her cheek pressed against my side. Every time I tried to carry her inside to bed, she shook her head, stubbornly wanting to remain glued to me, exactly like her dad.
Raymond hasn’t left my side all day. At first, I thought it was for appearances, keeping up the ruse of our fake relationship. But now, everyone at the table except Vincent knows the truth about us, and still, he hasn’t let me go. His hand either finds mine under the table or he’s running his big palm over my arms or squeezing my waist. His touches are innocent but powerful enough that they rattle my core. They make me feel like I belong here.
It’s just an arrangement, Wills. An arrangement so perfect you’re mistaking it for reality, and that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.
My dear friends fear and panic decide to pay me a visit at the worst time.
I feel a sudden need for air and lots of space.
“Um…sorry. I need to check on something.” I gently shift, easing Quill’s head onto a throw pillow. She stirs, her tiny fingers curling into the blanket, but thankfully, she doesn’t wake.
I don’t look at anyone—not Daisy, and definitely not Ray. Instead, I slip inside the house without any further words.
The kitchen is quiet, the air cool against my overheated skin. I press my palms on the counter and try to take slow, even breaths, in, out, in, out. That’s when my gaze snags on the plate of leftover birthday cake, the one Ray and I baked together last night. My stomach tightens as memories of the last twenty-four hours flood my mind. His touch. His words.
I wish that every year on my daughter’s birthday, you and I will bake a cake for her after we put her to bed.
I wish that when I’m in the shower, you’re with me. I’m pounding into you hard, making you forget all your anxieties about how perfect everything will be the next day.
Then, I’ll bring you here, every year, under the stars, where we’ll wish upon a shooting star before I take you again, slow and deep.
My eyes squeeze shut until the sound of incoming footsteps I recognize so well makes me jump.
