Page 61 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“How can you be so sure about that? We’ve got awesome connection. Maybe we should see where things go. We might like being married to each other.” I’m wondering if the Olympics are worth giving up anything but a “professional” relationship with Britta.
When doubt skitters across her face, I think maybe she’s reconsidering the professional part too, but then she pulls back her shoulders and sets her jaw in a firm line. “We barely know each other, and we’re very, verydifferent. If we act on our feelings, what happens if we find out in another month or two that we’re not a good fit? We’re stuck together until you get your citizenship, because that’s the agreement, right?”
I rub my fingers across my forehead and nod. “But if you wanted out, I wouldn’t hold you to it.”
Britta presses her lips together and moves her head slowly, side to side. “This only works if we both come out with what we want going in, and the best way to make sure that happens is to keep things friendly, but professional.”
I school every emotion and put on my most serious face. “I agree, Britta. Whatever you have on that list, I’ll do. I want you to feel safe. I never want you to think I’m taking advantage of your generosity or our partnership. I want this to work, but not at the expense of your dignity or our friendship.”
“Thank you…” Britta’s shoulders relax, but not enough to release the tension still coiled at her neck. “But you should read the entire list before you agree. Especially the second to last line. That’s the one I’m most worried about. It’s a lot.” She hands the list back to me, and I go to the second page, all the way to the bottom.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I read it. It’s by far the easiest thing on the list. “Not a problem.”
Britta’s jaw drops. “It’s three hundred thousand dollars. That’s how much I need for a down payment onAnnie’s.”
I reach for her hand, then question whether this is an “absolutely necessary” moment, and let it drop back to my side. “The money part is easy. Except for this apartment, I don’t have many expenses. Rip Tide gives me clothes. The Sprinter van belongs to Archie, and I’ve saved most of my winnings. I expected you to ask for more. You should have, and you still can. My agent has brokered heaps of promotions for me since I won. You don’t need to worry about money.”
Britta breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. That means a lot. And I do feel safe with you. We both want the same thing: to reach our goals before getting into any long-term attachments. That’s why we’ll be excellent partners.”
Her words should wipe away any of my worries. Instead, my enthusiasm for this whole thing takes a hit. Then my eyes bounce to the last condition, and my excitement is down for the count.
“This won’t work.” I fold the list and hand it back to her.
“What? Why?” She unfolds the papers and scans them, so I point to the last line that saysannulment proceedings to begin one year from the date of marriage.
“This won’t be a one-year thing, Britta. We have to be married for three years for me to get citizenship. I should have told you that. I thought I had.”
Her face drains of color, and I feel my own cheeks heat. I was so close. I should have known this was too good to be true. Three years is an enormous commitment for anything, but especially for a fake marriage.
Britta goes to the sofa, sinks into it, and drops her head in her hands. All I can do is watch. The fact she hasn’t bolted back to her place is tempting me to hope I might still have a chance.
Finally, she lifts her head. “Three years is a long time.”
“Yeah. I get it if that’s a deal breaker. I don’t expect you to give up three years of your life for me. You’ve already given up years, taking care of your mum the way you did.” I stay planted where I am, not daring to move forward.
She sits up straight and rolls her shoulders back. “It’s fine. I can do anything for three years, but we’ll need to add another condition. No dating.”
“Easy. Archie’s already made me follow that rule this season, but either way, I wouldn’t want people to think I was cheating on you.”
A look of confusion crosses her face before her eyes go wide. “I mean each other, too.”
“We can’t date each other?” I can go without other girls, but I’m more disappointed about not dating her.
“Strictly professional, Liam.” Britta leaves no room for argument there, and I have to be okay with that. Ishouldbe okay with that. “Besides,” she adds in a softer voice. “We’ll be too busy chasing our dreams for anything else. That’s the other benefit of this partnership. We contractually can’t get distracted by the opposite sex.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. She’s right, of course. We’ll keep each other focused by eliminating the biggest potential obstacle. “I think I’m going to like being married to you.”
“You have to.” She smiles. “That’s number seventeen on the list. Right under splitting housework down the middle. I’ll do the cooking, but you get dishes.”
I laugh. “Fine, but I have a condition of my own.”
“Only one?”
I nod. “That’s an even split, right? I get thirty-two rules to follow; you get one?”
“I think so, depending on the size of your ask.” She folds her arms across her chest and sits back, like she’s planning to stay for a while.
I cross the room to erase the distance between us, but not enough to actually touch. I look down at her, lounging on my sofa, and a shiver of excitement runs down my spine at the thought that soon this will be an everyday occurrence. The two of us hanging out, laughing, teasing each other.
