Page 5 of Marry Me, Right Now

The Bridle Path was a very exclusive neighborhood inhabited only by the ridiculously wealthy. I would likely be the poorest guy on the street. But with the houses spread so far apart, and the large properties separated by rows of trees, the level of privacy was amazing for somewhere just a twenty-minute drive to downtown Toronto.

Uncle Geoffrey knew how much I adored his house. He knew that I wanted to raise a family there, and go on adventures in the ravine with my own children, as I had with him when I was little.

Mother had assured me that he was not playing favorites when he gave the house to George. It was a family tradition, passed down for generations. The largest asset must go to the oldest child, even if it wasn’t your own child.

Even though in this case, the oldest child was talking about the keggers he was going to throw. George wanted to put in a hot tub in the backyard, and rip out the antiques to install a hyper-modern kitchen and living room. He wanted to knock down hundred-year-old walls and install LED mood lighting.

I’ve had mixed feelings about my brother for my entire life, but this angered me on a level that actually shocked me. As I drove around the last corner, I tried to watch my speed, turning into the garage under my building.

George didn’t get the house until he turned thirty though, and even though that was only a month away, I half-heartedly hoped that he would get distracted with his eight million dollar inheritance and travel the world instead of destroying the beloved mansion.

If there was a way I could get my inheritance early, there was a chance that I could buy the house from him. It was a solid investment, but I’d have to do it before he ruined everything.

Marriages of convenience were commonplace among my mother’s circle of people. Corporations merged more smoothly, families were joined as allies. It seemed a bit medieval and creeped me out on some level.

But what if I did it? What if I got married, got the money two years early, and paid George six million dollars for the house? That was a little more than it was likely worth, if you removed the value of sentimentality, and would leave me enough money to keep it up, especially if I sold my condo.

This idea had been rambling around my mind for weeks, but I couldn’t think of a girl who I could stand living with for at least a year, to make it seem like an official marriage. I’d need someone smart, focussed, who could make playing the part of my wife her full-time job, at least for a few months.

As I took the elevator up to the top floor and opened my front door, I wracked my mind one more time for a girl who might be able to play the part. Dropping my shoulder bag in the kitchen, I looked around the airy space. Suddenly I recalled Mia on the cafe patio, bravely saying that she could make do with a tiny basement apartment.

She seemed so desperate for a home, and the thought of a sweet, beautiful girl like that living in a bug-infested dank basement actually turned my stomach.

What if she stood in as my wife? Could she be that op

en minded? I’d gladly give her a cut of the money, and her troubles would be taken care of for over a year.

Was it too outrageous? I’d been a fairly straightforward guy my entire life. Nobody would ever suspect it wasn’t real. I’d never done anything crazy, or taken a chance. I wasn’t the gambling sort.

Could I risk everything on a woman I’d barely met?

M I A

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POTENTIAL NEW JOB

Lucille’s Cafe was pretty slow all day long, so I barely made any tips. Not only would I be making the long walk back to Stacy’s, but I also couldn’t afford dinner.

Thank goodness my manager let us take the leftover food at the end of the day. No sense throwing it out, when you can spoil the staff a little. I certainly needed something to boost my spirits after my phone had not rung once today, even though I’d left dozens of messages to potential landlords. Even the dank little basement where I’m sure I saw bugs skittering in the kitchen didn’t call me back. I was so terrified that I would be in a homeless shelter in a few days that my shoulders were clenched and starting to cause pain up the back of my neck.

After I wrapped up a couple of buns and a cheese sandwich in napkins and stuffed it in my purse, I went out the front door and stopped in my tracks.

Jacob the CEO was standing in front of the shop, wearing a dark suit and looking like he was about to jet off to Milan.

“Hi,” I said, not quite believing he was there. “Are you here to see me?”

“Yes,” he said, coming closer. “I promise I’m not a stalker. I just had an idea about how we could solve both of our problems.”

“How can I solve your family business... Whatever?” I asked, sounding like an idiot but I was still gobsmacked that he was there.

“The really short version is that I need a nice girl to help me with a business project, and you need a home. We can help each other out if we’re open-minded.”

Normally, that might sound sketchy as hell. But he had such open, honest body language. I was recalling every single psych book I’ve ever read, which was a lot, and there was nothing suspicious about him whatsoever.

“How could I help you?” I looked down at my black jeans, black long-sleeved t-shirt, purple leather cuffs, and clunky boots. I looked like an artsy freak, whereas he looked like he was about to pluck a supermodel from the nearest runway.

“In improv theatre you’re supposed to say, ‘yes, and...’ to everything, right?”

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