Page 12 of Seale the Deal

Eventually, I realized loving someone doesn’t automatically mean you belong in the same future. That realization broke her heart. Mine too.

Twenty-something me didn’t handle the act of breaking up as well as I should have, but I’m not sorry for what we shared or that it ended. What I am sorry for is how long it took me to realize we were slowly giving pieces of ourselves up trying to build a life together.

I vowed to never do that to another person. Which is part of why this works. I know Wrenley wants bigger things that I can’t give her here. Walking in knowing how it ends means there’s no chance for either of us to hurt the other. And from what Remi told me, she could’ve gone far in the fashion industry had it not been for her Prada-wearing asshole ex who had no problem ending things but also couldn’t handle the idea of someone else eventually having her. So, he used his influence to quietly burn her career to the ground before she even had a chance to rebuild it somewhere else.

That kind of thing sticks under my skin.

When Remi showed up with her insane plan, complete with spreadsheets, immigration timelines, and a PowerPoint titled Men Are Temporary, Opportunities Are Forever, I listened. Maybe a sane person would have said no, considering I’m risking prison time for a person I met maybe two times, and it was mostly just me helping Remi pile more winter gear on her, but I couldn’t. While I don’t know Wrenley well yet, I knew from the moment I met her that she’s the kind of person the world needs more of.

She’s kind, passionate, and funny in a way that catches you off guard. If helping her get the life she actually wants means pretending to be her husband for a couple of years? Fine. I can live with that.

Probably.

I’m glad you like it, I say.

I do, she says, looking around again.

Then her eyes land back on me, and something in her expression shifts slightly. I wonder if the reality of this arrangement is suddenly settling in all over again.

This is weird, she says with a small laugh.

Are you still talking about the bat boxes?

No. Well, yes. But also… She gestures vaguely between us. The whole living together thing.

I shrug. It’s… different. But we already made it through a mini crisis, so that’s a point in our favour.

I wink, but she only huffs out a quiet laugh, nerves still behind it.

Well, Remi says brightly, clapping her hands together once, I’m thrilled you two are bonding over wildlife trauma, but I have to go. I missed a batch of line edits, and they were due, like… yesterday. She glances at Wrenley. You going to be okay here?

It’s subtle, but I catch the flicker of panic Wrenley smooths over almost immediately.

Yeah, she says with a breezy wave. I’m already pretty much emotionally recovered from my near-death experience.

Remi snorts. Look, don’t worry. She steps up and pulls me into a side hug. I’m leaving you with a carbon copy of myself.

I scoff, shoving her off gently. Please. I don’t cry walking into a bookstore.

Maybe if you picked up a book, you would, she fires back, grinning. I know that underneath all that camo is a softie that would never be able to get through reading A Walk to Remember without a full box of tissues.

Wrenley lets out a surprised laugh, then claps her hand over her mouth like she wasn’t expecting it. Despite knowing that she is laughing at me… I kind of like the sound.

As Remi breezes to the door, Wrenley shifts closer, and her shoulder brushes mine, light, unintentional.

Sorry, she murmurs, not quite meeting my eyes.

I don’t say anything. But the contact lingers longer than it should.

Anyway, Remi says, pulling her keys out of her jeans pocket. Ruger, come with me and get Wrenley’s bags. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Wren?

She nods, looking stoic, but I can only imagine she doesn’t feel that way.

Make yourself at home, I tell her before following my carbon copy out the door.

I roll my eyes at the thought.

We’re not carbon copies, my sister and me. Sure, we shared a womb. Now, we share a birthday and a handful of childhood memories. But where she’s chaos and insane ideas, I’m… not. I like quiet. Routine. A life where things don’t suddenly shift under your feet.