“I live with you, in my own room is best so we don’t confuse things. We go about our lives like normal. But when we go out, we act like we are a couple. And we make social media content for my page that is totally in keeping with my brand. We start now, as a couple, just the two of us. Then, when I start to show, we make the announcement. And we generally just share our excitement with the world.”
Luke stood and took their plates to the sink. “I’m not much of a ‘share my excitement with the world’ kind of guy. I barely use social media. I’ll look like a performing dog if I suddenly start gushing fake sentiment all over it.”
Willow winced again. Fuck.
“Well, I’m going to have to make it look like I’m suddenly thrilled to be twenty-three, recently knocked-up, and in love with a man I haven’t seen in months. It’s called acting, Luke, and I’ll pay you to do it.”
Luke gripped the counter. “Can you stop with the comments about paying me? It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“It’s better this way. A contract, with boundaries and salaries, keeps all the emotions on the right sides of the lines. It avoids messiness.”
“Messiness?” Luke coughed. “This is already as messy as it gets.”
“You’re going to need the money, Luke. We need a new apartment. Bigger, with lots of light. And there are going to be trips. High-end hotels. And a half-decent journalist worth their salt will endeavour to find out who paid. You want them to find out the mother of your child is paying for everything?”
“Wait. I’m not moving.”
“You can’t think we’ll stay in your place. It’s too small. Especially when the baby comes. I looked online and read about the Golden Triangle. Alderley Edge, Wilmslow. Some place beginning with an ‘M’. It seems a lot of footballers live there. It’s only a thirty-minute drive away.”
Luke put his hand to his forehead. “For fuck’s sake. Stop a minute. I’m not moving. Matt and my sister live two floors above me. Ben, Jase, and Alex live a short walk away. We rehearse most days. I’ll concede the apartment needs some work inside, and that’s it.”
Willow frowned. “It needs to be aspirational, Luke. Nobody wants to see what life is like in an apartment they could afford.”
“Aspirational, my arse. It would be more realistic to tell the truth and show this is how you deal with things in real life, instead of fancy houses and holidays. It is what it is.”
“That’s why you need the—”
“Do. Not. Say. Money.”
“Fine,” she muttered, twisting her fingers together.
Luke took a deep breath. “Jesus, Will. Look. Do we have to have all this figured out today? You’re safe. You can stay. Let’s figure out the rest as we go.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “We’ll clean up. Decorate. Whatever. It’s my place so we’ll do it with my money.”
“Fine. We’ll split chores. I don’t mind cooking.”
“I don’t mind eating. What else do you need?”
“Just you to look at the contract.”
“Later.” Luke rinsed the dishes and noticed the sink was looking pretty grim. “God. This place is a pigsty. Sorry, Willow. Look. Go sit down or unpack while I clean up. I’ll make you a tea.”
“You don’t happen to have a coffee machine and decaf beans, do you?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got instant coffee.”
She grimaced. “No, thanks. Tea will be fine. Is it lemon tea?”
“No. Just regular PG Tips.”
“Does that have caffeine?”
Luke nodded.
“I’m not supposed to have caffeine.”
“Why not?”
She pointed to her stomach. “It’s not good for the baby.”