Page 11 of Where Happiness Begins

“I have a house,” I say. “You could have the basement if you wanted.” There’s a second bedroom on the main floor, but I think us having our own spaces would be for the best. I don’t know the man, after all. I don’t think we’re at the level of sharing a bathroom in our relationship yet.

He rubs his lips with his thumb as he studies the table for a moment. “I guess that works.”

“Okay.” I might not be writing down a contract—I don’t want any more incriminating proof than there already is—but I fully plan on typing all of our conversation down on my phone once I get home so neither one of us can forget our agreements. I tick through all the things we discussed in my head, and the longer I go on, the less sense this deal makes to me.

I lay my hands on the table. “Are you sure you really want to do this?” Out of the two of us, I’m clearly the one benefitting the most from the situation. He’s putting himself at risk of going to jail for committing a felony, and for what? Publicity for a band that’s not even his? “It doesn’t make sense.” I might be shooting myself in the foot by arguing this with him, but I don’t want to go into this unless there’s at least a semblance of fairness.

Carter shifts in his booth. “If this goes according to plan, the band’s success might put me on the map and launch my career. That’s more than enough for me.”

“Your career’s that important to you?”

His gaze flits to mine. “It’s the only thing I have.”

I want to refute, ask him about his family, his friends, his pastimes. He must have more than a job, and yet there’s something in his stony expression that tells me he truly believes this.

I nod just as our waitress comes by to pick up our empty cups of coffee.

“Thank you, Maggie,” I say, while Carter makes an inaudible sound—I’m not a hundred percent sure that man is able to speak in more than two sentences at a time.

“Of course, honey,” she says, then throws me a knowing grin, all the while glancing at Carter. I have to agree that by looks alone, she must think I’m lucky as heck to be on a date with a man like him. She might find him a tad less charming if she had a conversation with him, though.

I turn back to Carter when I remember something we definitely need to discuss.

“Oh, and one last thing.”

He simply looks at me, totally done.

“If we want to make this believable, we also need to look faithful, so if you decide to see someone else, can you please be…discreet?”

Even if I can’t see myself, I know I must be red as a beet. I can’t believe this is what my life has come to. Asking my future husband to be subtle when he cheats on me.

It’s not a real husband.I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I know myself. I fall fast, and I can easily imagine scenarios where someone is interested in me when deep down, they couldn’t care less. If I want this arrangement to work, I need to be careful.

“And of course,” I add, “I’ll do the same.”

“Not a problem.”

“Good,” I say.

A bell rings at the front of the diner, followed by two men in work boots and dirty jeans walking in. The morning is truly here.

In front of me, Carter stretches his back, sucking me in with those eyes that remind me of a morning in early fall, when the leaves have just started to change color and are in that murky zone between a darker green and reddish-brown.

“It’s a deal, then?”

This is insane. Absolutely insane. If I do this, it’d be so out of pocket for me. I’ve never done anything this reckless. But has being careful brought me where I wanted?

Live life to the fullest.If I want even a chance at it, this is the way to go.

With a deep inhale, I extend my hand, and only once he clasps it with his, warm and firm, do I say, “It’s a deal.”

Chapter 5

Ican’t believe I’m actually doing this.

My legs are shaking as I hide from the rain under the front porch of the Montpelier courthouse, coat wrapped tight around me. It might have been more than a week since we officially agreed to the marriage, but now that the day is here, I can’t help but feel like I’m making the biggest mistake of my life. I keep thinking about what my father would say if he could see me, and somehow, I can’t figure out what his reaction would be. On the one hand, he was always the one to tell me that life was an adventure and you simply had to make the best with what you had. On the other hand, he might be ashamed at the thought of his only daughter marrying and moving in with a man she met less than two weeks before. Even so, I wish he were here. I can’t believe I’m getting married and my dad—the one person who’s been with me through it all—isn’t here to walk me down the aisle, as fake as this thing is.

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