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“What is that supposed to mean?” I glanced at the card. “Marriage broker?” I read out loud, wondering what the hell that meant. Then a lightbulb clicked on, and my head popped up. I met Clerence’s eyes. “You telling me I should pay for a?—"
“Mail-order brides are not that unusual. I know it’s not the norm, especially now with all the swiping up and down, right and left.”
“You really think I’m that hard up that I’d pay someone to be my wife?”
“I think you live in a small town, March. You don’t wanna hook up with anyone here, and taking a chance with a tourist could be risky. Especially with how much your company is worth. So, why not check that out, pay off someone’s school loan or whatever they need? Let her live with you for a moment in exchange for a speedy marriage that will get you out of this bind.”
“And then what? Get a divorce?” I scowled, and he shrugged.
“Over half of all marriages end that way anyhow. Marriages of convenience have been happening for centuries.” He was deluded if he thought I’d try this. Right?
“Look, son.” I could tell by the softness in his eyes that he hated this. If Clerence could change it or help me find some kind of loophole, he would have. In my gut, I knew that.
“I know your family. They catch wind of this… issue, they’re going to swoop in with all kinds of prospects and…” I winced while he kept talking, knowing the entire time he was right. I loved my family, but they were crazy.
My mom, January West, was the biggest nut in all of Odyssey.
“Fuck.” I imagined all the single women my mom would most likely bring right to my doorstep. She’d be like a dog with a bone and never let shit go.
And my brothers and sisters? If they found out, they’d probably do the same thing after teasing me mercilessly about how Grandpa had the last laugh. I glanced at the card in my hand.
An email, website, and phone number stared back at me. Marriage broker.
A mail-order bride?
What kind of hell was I stepping into?
March
A couple of days later
Iturned to look at my cousin about to ask him for help, to see if he could find a way out of this shit pile our grandfather had left me. But his grinning face caused me to wave goodbye and get into my truck. My movements almost robotic.
I couldn’t put this shit fest on Clay. Not when he was happily engaged. Not when I knew the moment his house was built by my guys, he’d be carrying December over the threshold, ready to start their lives together. Muscle memory took over as I made my way to my office.
When my phone pinged, I winced. Glancing down at it, I scowled at the phone like it was a snake waiting to bite me.
It was her.
My future bride. After drinking half my weight in bourbon, I had gone on the website on the card my grandfather’s oldest friend had handed me and signed up. I’d actually done it and met someone.
With any luck, I could get married, show proof, secure my company right back to me, and get divorced before anyone in my family even noticed. We’d emailed and texted, but I’d yet to hear her voice or see a picture of her.
I couldn’t get myself to ask for one.
Not when at the end of the day, none of that mattered.
I pulled over and opened the text.
Sunny: My flight is on time. I should be arriving at the airport by ten.
I pinched the bridge of my nose wondering for the millionth time what the hell I had got myself into.
Sunny: I’ll rent a car and drive out to you.
There was something about Sunny Castro that had drawn me in from the beginning and only kept my interest piqued with every interaction. That was if she had been telling the truth about herself. For all I knew, she was lying about everything.
We had things in common, and she needed a change in her life. The love bug had never hit her, and when someone approached her about signing up with a marriage broker, she thought what the hell.
