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“Look, this app thing is getting out of control. They want me to be on some reality show next and sign a five-year endorsement deal.”
“Isn’t that just money in your pocket?”
“No. I mean... it is, but it’s also me being forced to use this bonkers app, date women I don’t really like, then post about it, and, you know, sell my soul for profit.”
“Aw, you poor baby. You’re famous and being used by the big bad corporations for their financial gain. Must be hard.”
“I’m serious, Becca. I’ll pay for a state-of-the-art kitchen. I’ll take care of you.”
She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“I know that. I just... I need help, and this is the only way I can get out of this bloody contract.”
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long do we have to be married?”
“A year, just to be safe.”
Her brows shot into her hairline. “An entireyear? Are you crazy?”
“And we have to live together.”
“What? You said in name only. I can’t move off the island. I need to be close to the bakery. To Scarlett.”
I’d already thought of this. I’d thought of everything. “I’ll buy a house nearby. We can live there.”
“Why do we have to live together?”
“The contract withMeet-Cupidstipulates the agreement is void if I’m married and in a committed, co-habitant relationship.”
She bit her lower lip and trained her gaze on the coffee mug in front of her. “You’ll redo the kitchen exactly how we want it? No questions asked?”
“Aye.”
“I get my own room?”
“Aye.” My chest tightened in anticipation as she was obviously warming to the idea.
“One year living with you. Do I have to pretend to love you?”
“Only when we attend public functions. And we’ll need to post on social media every now and then.”
“But other than that, I can go about my life?”
“With the exception of dating. I can’t have my wife dating other men.”
“And you won’t see other women.” She said it like a statement, not a question.
“Aye, you’ll be my moon and stars, lass.”
“I don’t see how we’re going to do this today. We need a license, an officiant.”
I placed the envelope on the table. “Taken care of.”
She opened the flap and pulled out the marriage license I’d applied for, both of our names already written down. “Are you serious? You knew I’d say yes?”
