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“Fine, Jude, I will be supporting you past the expiration of our marriage to take care of our offspring.”
“Okay, now the word ‘offspring’ –”
“God dammit, Judith Parry, this is not a fairytale, this is a business transaction!” I yell, slamming my hands on the table. “You painted us into this corner. Now you either listen to me and my expertise or you walk out that door and we pretend like this didn’t happen.”
Jude stares at me with wide eyes. The corners of her lips are… are they moving upward? Is she laughing? What the hell is going on?
“Are you laughing at me? Don’t – don’t fucking laugh at me!”
“I’m sorry, just –” She’swheezingwith laughter.
“Is there something on my face or –‘”
“Judith Parry!” She places her hands on her stomach and laughs even harder. “You sound like my dad!”
I stare at her as she descends into tears spurred on by her laughter. I make a mental note to never, ever call her by her full name. That way we can avoid this fit of crazed laughter in the future.
Although, I have to admit, her laugh is delightful and completely contagious. I’m having to work hard not to join in.
Jude finally gets control over her hysteria and lets out a long sigh. “That was funny. Now –” She holds her hand out toward me. “Give me a pen so I can sign this thing and get the hell out of here.”
I smile, relief settling through my body. I give her a pen, point out where she needs to sign, and watch as she brings the contract to life with her signature.
I follow suit.
Then, we shake hands.
“Looking forward to doing business with you, Chase Gladstone,” Jude says, her lips contorted tightly so as not to let out another reckless laugh.
In my head, I respond in kind.With you as well, Judith Parry.
Although “looking forward to” is a little strong in my mind.
But by signing this contract we’ve just committed to at least two years of pretending to be in love with each other in the light of day.
And I’m not looking forward to that. Not at all.
Chapter 5
Jude
Isitatthecafé table, my foot bobbing uncontrollably with anxiety. In front of me sit two iced lattes sweating in the Savannah morning sun. It’s early enough that the heat doesn’t make it completely unpleasant to be outside.
However, I’m sweating anyway.
I have officially been in a fake relationship with Chase Gladstone for three days. Only in the sense that it’s been three days since we signed that contract which has been keeping me up at night.
If Chase thinks he’s getting a kid out of me, he has another thing coming. But I didn’t have the heart to tell him that. If I can have access to the best doctors and treatments money can buy, it’s worth the little white lie.
It’s not official that I’m infertile, but PCOS makes it significantly harder to conceive, and seeing as I’ve never been in the position to try, I have no idea what will happen. The condition has ravaged my body for years without being properly treated. I imagine my uterus will be similar to the condition of the earth in fifty years if we don’t get climate change in order.
I’m trying not to think about it. But I can’t help but think I’m lying by omission.
For now, there are other more pressing things I need to worry about, namely Caroline.
She struts up to the café table in her athleisure, clearly having just come from a morning run from the sweat on her brow. Somehow, even when she’s just run God knows how many miles, she looks flushed and pretty. Not like a cherry tomato. Which is how I look when I attempt to run for more than a minute straight. “Hey.”
“Hey!” I get to my feet and start to go in for a hug, but she steps back.
