Page 21 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Geez. Nope. I can’t even entertain the thought.

Because the thing I’ve wanted more than anything is being offered to me here, on a shiny silver platter. But it comes with an expiration date.

And it would be an imitation of the real thing—like drinking diet soda instead of the good stuff.

But how do I tell Marilee that, when she has no idea how living with her—beingmarriedto her—would make it so much harder for me to not give in to my daily impulse to kiss her?

Not to mention, if we were married as friends, I definitely couldn’t tell her my feelings without risking our arrangement. Not without making it extremely awkward for both of us.

And yet. What she’s saying also makes sense.

Marriagewouldsolve my problem with the Comers breathing down my neck. And being married a year would allow me to establish my business even more, to get Ryder through preschool and into full-day kindergarten, to help him adjust even more to his mother’s death.

And Marilee would get something she’s never been allowed before—the chance to take a risk on herself.

I drum my fingers on the concrete table. “I’m not saying yes yet.”

Something sparks in her eyes, and she sits upright. “I’ll takeyet.”

“But if you did this for me, you’d absolutely be able to live with me free of charge. No rent, no contributions to groceries, none of it. I’m guessing Blake and Lucy would pay you a monthly rent, or you could rent your room out to someone else if they weren’t able to do that. Either way, you’d be getting some money paid to you for your portion of homeownership.” I take a quick breath, knowing this last part might be a deal-breaker for her. “And you’d have to let me cosign a loan for you, or pay you back in some way.”

“Jay, no. That’s not why I’m doing this. You wouldn’t have to pay me back. You’re my best friend.” Her eyes get misty. “I’d do anything for you and Ryder. And if this would help…”

“I know you would—but there’s still a really good chance that we don’t need to get married in order for me to keep Ryder.”

“You heard what Sam said. The Comers’ attorney is a shark. Sharks go for the jugular. And Jay, you’re too good a person to…” She pushes a tear away.Aw, Lee. “I don’t want you and Ryder to have to go through that. Not if we can fix it.”

I take a chip from my bag, break it in half. Hold the pieces in my hands. “But Lee, this isn’t just some small thing. It’s marriage. And I thought you told me you never wanted to get married again.”

The words are out before I can stop them. It’s something I don’t like to think about—that night when she cried in my arms after Donny had served her with divorce papers. When I told her that she was going to survive this, and that someday, she’d marry someone who saw the amazing person she was.

She’d responded with a declaration of her own.

“Yeah, well.” She juts her chin—a move I always find adorable. “It’s not a real marriage. Just on paper. If it makes you feel any better, we can establish some ground rules.”

I lift my eyebrows at this. “Like what?” My stomach growls, and I finally pop my broken chip into my mouth. The crunch sounds loud in my ears.

“I don’t know. Like, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Nice try.I’llsleep on the couch.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s your house.” Then she takes a bite of her turkey sandwich.

“I won’t even entertain this idea if you’re going to insist on sleeping on the couch.” Thank goodness she didn’t suggest we share a bed. I respect the heck out of her, but a year of sleeping next to the woman I love without snuggling up next to her, embracing her, kissing her neck in the early morning?

Yeah. I’d prefer torture, thanks.

She chews, her eyes narrow, but finally swallows and smiles. “Fine. You win.”

Do I, though?I shake away my inner voice. “What else should go on this supposed list of rules?” Whoa, are we really thinking about doing this? I can’t truly consider what it would mean. Have to keep focused on the facts. The list. A contract. That should keep us safe, right? It would provide us a baseline, so there’s no confusion.

Otherwise, I know my brain—and my heart—might start thinking things are real and cross a line from which there’s no return.

I pull out my phone. “I can type the list out and then print it. We can even sign it. Make things official.”

“That would be good.” She averts her eyes, and is it the breeze or some other reason her cheeks look red? “Um, so I guess the biggest question would be about who we tell what. Because I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to lie to our friends about our reasons for marriage.”

Pressure I didn’t realize was clamping my lungs releases, and I blow out a solid breath. “Me either. And my parents too.”

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