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Her head bobbed up and down. “It wasn’t that I wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t watch him be all smug and happy after what he’d done.” She leaned back against the window and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “Why did you go along with it and tell him I was your wife?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because in my case, a handful of people thinking I got married is no big deal. It will blow over in a few weeks. But in your case, the world thinksyougot married, and that isn’t going to just… blow over.”
One corner of my mouth curled up a little. “I think this is far simpler for me than you think it is,” I told her, earning me a confused frown. “Because I don’t give a fuck what the world thinks.”
She barked out a sharp laugh, throwing her head back.
If she thought I was being dramatic or trying to be funny, I wasn’t.
“I told you earlier that I pushed so hard to be successful because I wanted to prove I was worth more than some spare parts in a fucking petri dish.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmured. “You did.”
“Well, when I said that, I meant the only person I wanted to prove it to was me,” I explained, enjoying how her face instantly softened and that nervousness she had been filled with seemed to ease as a gentle smile grew. “So no, I don’t give a fuck if the world thinks I’m married. What I actually give a fuck about is you.”
She pulled her lips in and pressed them together, wiggling them around as if shuffling through the words inside her mouth, searching for the right ones to speak. “It’s been nice…” she started, pausing for a second as a slight flush of red flooded her cheeks. “It’s been nice to have you in my corner. I honestly don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t pulled over and given me a way out that day.”
“And a ride to the hospital when you tripped on that fucking dress and cracked your head open,” I added.
“And that.”
“And a place to stay because you waited until the week before your marriage to move in with the doucheba—”
“Okay,” she exclaimed, laughing loudly.
Boy, did I love that damn sound.
The sound of Valen being happy.
Something I was sure I could make her—for a while, at least.
And just like that, I had a plan.
“Look, how about this…” I started, piecing it together in my head as I explained. “You don’t have an apartment, and you’re gonna need time saving for a security deposit, right?”
Her brow pinched, and her shoulders slumped. “Thank you for that reminder, but yes. That’s right.”
“I have several events and other things coming up, like mine and Bronson’s opening, which I’m expected to attend with a date,” I added, not sure she was keeping up but continuing anyway. “You have somewhere to stay while you’re looking for a place, expense-free. I don’t have to find dates—”
“Because you must have so much trouble finding dates,” she teased, but she sat forward, so I knew I had something.
“It’s not about the finding dates, it’s all the other bullshit that goes along with said dates. Getting to know them, hoping you have some chemistry, knowing most of them are there only because they want to get seen with you, not because they actually give a fuck about the project you’re supporting or the people. At least we already know each other, you’re already involved, and there won't be any question about whose place we’re heading to after.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is there really any question about whose house?”
“Never. Doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen, though.”
While there was soft music playing in the diner’s speakers, I was well aware that both Martha and Tracy could hear everything we were saying. And honestly, I was glad.
There was a reason I kept a lot of women around my business and me, and it wasn’t because it boosted my ego. It was because I could trust them to see things I couldn’t and then be honest about it afterward.
And that’s exactly why I ensured Valen and I worked this out right here.
Because…I was starting to feel something.
Something I was pretty sure I hadn’t felt before.
