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“As a heart attack.”
“That’s weird as fuck.”
“What’s weird as fuck? Taking advantage of living like James Mitchell on this aircraft? No, that’s smart as fuck, and I’m enjoying this entire adventure to its fullest.”
“No,” I chuckled. “Green tea ice cream?”
She shrugged. “It’s my favorite. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m annoyed that I didn’t give you a list of my demands for this flight.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s all straightened out,” I answered as she settled into the leather seat across from where I’d sat on the couch, facing her. “I wasn’t planning to ask you about your food preference.”
“Well, that was your next mistake of our fake marriage. First, an argument, and now you’re admitting you didn’t give a fuck about making me comfortable on the flight?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Nat.”
She grinned. “I know,” she said, pretending to be serious. “You keep fucking up like this, and we’ll be fake divorced before we show up at this wedding that we’re fake married for,” she finished with a sexy arch of her eyebrow.
“Well, we’re about to be fake divorced because you cut me off, and I didn’t get to ask you what I really wanted to know.”
She shrugged. “Fair enough. You can ask anything, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”
“Already starting this beautiful relationship the right way, shitty communication, and a wife who’s very straightforward about it.”
“Fake wife,” she reminded me. “Now, what is this question that I may or may not answer, darling?”
I got up from the couch and made my way over to the table. “Why real estate? You’re smart and brilliant at business, but there’s something about how you approach real estate that’s so fascinating.”
“Why would you give two shits about why I chose real estate?” she asked. I could tell she was a bit perplexed because it was the first time she and I were about to have a substantial conversation.
“I’m just curious about what draws people to what they do,” I answered truthfully, not wanting her to think that I was interested in getting to know her better in such a way that would result in attachments.
She leaned forward, setting her weight onto her elbows and tilting her head so that her long, honey-blonde hair fell forward. She caught her chin in her hand as she thought through her answer.
“Part of it is that it’s just smart business. Like, there will always be brick and mortar businesses for one thing, and for another, people will always need homes.”
“Okay, that’s a generally decent answer for a college advisor.” I leaned forward also, getting a full-faced smell of her usual scent of white flowers, honey, and sunshine. “But I want to know why you do it.”
She bit down on her lip as the plane began to taxi up the runway, making its way toward its takeoff position. “My family had a beautiful house when I was growing up; I mean, it was gorgeous. But it was cold, and it always felt empty. Like, no good memories were being made in that house, and I hated that. Whenever I went to friends’ houses, they always felt warm, fun, and full, and mine was just…the opposite. So, when I went to college and got into the school of business, I decided to lean into the real estate track. I could help people find homes that would never be empty. At least, not because of me.”
As she spoke, I found myself leaning in and paying attention, even as the two of us were thrown back by the g-forces of the plane taking off. “I’ve never heard anyone talk about selling houses the way you just did,” I said. “But you’ve made it into so much more than that.”
“That’s what it is at its core,” she said. “It’s all about home. Whether someone wants to build a luxury hotel, a golf course, or a chain of boutique cafés, it’s all about creating an experience where people feel at home, and that’s what it’s always been about.”
I swallowed, leaning back and feeling my heart pound in my chest as I debated whether or not to reveal my truth to her. This thing felt so heavy and real in the face of the truth she had given me.
“It sounds like you and I grew up in the same house,” I said. “Beautiful, cold, and empty. Well, it was full of expensive stuff that I didn’t give a shit about as a kid.”
She nodded. “Yep, I remember that expensive shit.”
I unbuckled and stood up, feeling my heart in my throat as I walked toward her and perched on the side of the table. “Speaking of expensive shit,” I said, reaching into my pocket, “I have something I was hoping you’d wear. And I think it’ll go well with your sweater.”
I set the box down on the table and saw her eyes pop again at the sight of the small black velvet box.
“Holy shit,” she said. “You’re really serious about this.”
“Open it,” I responded, smiling at her.
She did and gasped, holding her hand up to her mouth. In the box was a stunning emerald-cut diamond mounted on a delicate, thin band surrounded on both sides by small clusters of tiny diamonds. It was nestled into a wedding set that went with it perfectly, the diamond-encrusted band creating a perfect little nest for the engagement ring.
