Page 45 of The Arrangement
And that might be the scariest part of all.
Jason narrows his eyes, searching mine for an answer to an unasked question.
“What’s going on here?” Tate asks, picking up on the tension between his brother and me.
“I’d like to know that myself,” Jason says.
I swallow. “I don’t know how much clearer I need to be, but Jason and I are getting married.” I turn to Tate. “Six months, right? From the date of the wedding, I’m assuming.”
For the first time since I’ve known him, Tate is speechless.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I turn back to Jason. “Marry me. I’ll be the best wife ever—even though I’m unsure how to be a wife because I’ve never wanted to be one. But I’ll take a course or read a book or watch a bunch of romantic comedies that I usually stay away from like the plague because those happy endings are bullshit. But I can pretend,” I add quickly. “I will. I’ll do anything. I?—”
“Whoa, wait a minute.” Tate holds his hands up and takes a few steps my way. “Are you fucking serious?”
I gulp, sweat dampening the back of my neck. “Yes.”
He looks at Jason. “You’re marrying her?”
“I … don’t know what’s happening here,” Jason says, eyeing me. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”
I groan loudly enough to snap them both out of shock. “Tate, if Jason gets married and stays married for six months, you’ll pay him one hundred thousand dollars, which is completely ridiculous, but who am I to judge? Right? Rich people play rich people games, I guess. But that’s the way this bet works?”
“Yeah,” Tate says, nodding slowly. “That’s how it works.”
“Okay. Then we’re getting married,” I say. “We stay married for half a year from the date we sayI do, and then you pay me fifty thousand dollars and donate the other half to whatever charity Jason chooses. Deal?”
Tate’s shoulders settle back, and he faces me like he does men in business meetings. If I wasn’t on the verge of losing everything I have and gaining a mental breakdown, I might find it funny.
“This has to be a real marriage,” he says, his voice higher.
“Define that.” I look him in the eye. “What constitutes a real marriage?”
“You can’t just put a ring on your finger and go through the motions. You mustactuallymarry my brother.”
“Who is sitting right here,” Jason says from across the room.
We both ignore him.
“This wager was to prove that Jason can’t …” He throws his head back and laughs. “Hell, I don’t even remember what it was for now, but I want to see this play out.”
“Fine,” I say. “It’ll be a real marriage.”
“You have to live with him,” Tate says, glancing at Jason quickly.
“Fine,” I say again.Not sure how I’ll convince Jason of that, but one battle at a time …
“You have to do things together. Spend time together. Wind your lives together and make a real go at this.”
“What else?” I ask.
Tate’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “Then I got nothing. Game on.”
I hold out my hand, and Tate shakes it. His palm is softer and smaller than Jason’s, but I don’t comment. Not when I’m this close to miraculously solving my problems.
“Okay. Great,” Tate says, walking backward toward the door. “I’ll be awaiting my invitation.”
The door swings shut with a crisp smack.
