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Nella sits up excitedly.
“Then that’s great! Are you going to take it?” she asks.
I shoot her a lopsided smile. “I’m not sure. I mean, I just decided to stop being an escort, not the other way around, remember?”
Nella ponders it for a moment, picking up her drink and taking a small sip.
“Maybe it could work out though. After all, you had a great time with him last night, right? He’s charming, witty, and what else did you say?”
“Well,” I sputter, caught off guard. “He’s incredibly sexy too, but…”
“So why not? You guys have physical chemistry and he sounds like a decent guy, not to mention being filthy rich. Two million is not chump change, Sansa. You could live off that for the rest of your life, so long as you budget.” I nod, thoughtful. “It’s an easy way to make money and enjoy yourself while you’re doing it,” my friend continues. “So why not?”
The thing is, I can think of a million reasons not to get married, beginning with my respect for the sanctity of marriage itself. That keeps rearing its head at me. But maybe this is the right thing to do. After all, it’s just a bit more time using my body to make money, and then I’ll be out of the business forever.
I slump down in my seat, suddenly feeling tired.
“The extra cushion of money would be nice, I suppose,” I mumble. “And I don’t have much cash left now after all those start-up costs.”
“See?” Nells asks persuasively. “This is the right thing to do. Just a little bit longer, that’s all. Then your future will be set.”
A few moments of thoughtful silence pass. I idly watch the kids splashing around in the water. If only life was still that simple.
“How long do you think the arrangement would be for?” Nella eventually asks. I frown.
“I don’t know, actually. Brent did say that we would get divorced once he gets the CEO job, so maybe not too long,” I tell her. “He says he’s been with his family’s company for over twenty years already.” Nella nods approvingly.
“So maybe a year then? That’s not too bad.” I nod in agreement, still torn about what to do. Just then, Paul and the kids come running up to us, dripping water and smelling of chlorine.
“Mommy, did you see? I got Daddy, I splashed him!” Claire squeals through a fit of laughter.
“Oh, did you guys have fun?” Nella exclaims, scooping her daughter into her lap. The little girl enthusiastically nods her head yes as Cassidy begins clapping her hands, and I giggle at their joy.
“Okay, good! How about we run to town and grab some lunch? Is everybody hungry?” my buddy suggests.
“Good idea, hon. I’m starved,” Paul says, rubbing his taut belly.
“Aunt Sansa, will you join us?” Cassidy asks with a toothless grin, but I shake my head no.
“You guys go ahead without me because Auntie Sansa is tired! I think I’m going to head home.”
“Nooo!” Cassidy and Claire wail in unison. “No! We want you to come!”
But my friend is firm even as she shoots me a knowing look.
“Auntie Sansa is tired, you heard her, girls. She’s got a lot on her mind, and a lot to think about. How about I take you to Burger Delish over on Waverly Place? You know how much you love their fries.”
With that, the girls begin to chatter excitedly, already arguing over plain potato or sweet potato fries. I merely pack up my stuff with a smile and lean forward to give Nella a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for everything,” I say.
She winks at me.
“Just do what I’d do, girlfriend,” she sings. “Now away with you!”
I laugh, slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading back to the New York City streets below. But the decision still troubles me somewhat: should I take Brent up on his offer, or am I compromising too much of myself in this dirty deal?
6
Brent
It’s been a week since my fake marriage proposal to Sansa, and I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. I didn’t think it would be like this, to be honest. I figured that at the very least, I’d be professional about the situation. I’d make an offer, wait for a counteroffer, and then we’d sign on the dotted line. There’d be no emotions, and certainly no mooning about, the way I’m doing now.
It’s silly. I’m acting like a fucking schoolboy asking a girl out to prom, for God’s sake. I have jitters, and I think about her non-stop, from the sweet curve of her cheek to her lush figure and the way she cries out my name when she comes. I gave her one week to think about my offer, but I didn’t think she would take all seven days. As a result, I’ve been going crazy with anticipation. I wake in the middle of the night, dreaming of her, and have to force myself to go back to sleep.
