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“You told me you would.”
“I did tell you that before I considered the idea of staying married. Look, if you absolutely want out, we’ll bail on the whole thing and get divorced. But if you could consider helping me with this, even if for a short period of time, I’d be very grateful.”
She leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “What if I agree?”
Hot damn.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a folded sheath of papers. “You need to sign this. It basically says you agree to go along with the ruse until we jointly decide to end it. And that you’ll keep it confidential.”
She presses her lips together. “I’ll do it.”
Fuck yes.
“On one condition,” she adds.
“What? Tell me what you want.”
She waves her pen at me, the same one I used to sign the napkin autograph. “No funny business. We might be married, but that doesn’t mean I’m available for nook-nook.” She gestures at herself, singling out her chest and crotch. “Thisis off-limits.”
“Fine. I will keep my hands to myself. But you have to promise to do the same. I’m not just some piece of meat, you know.”
That gets her and she laughs. I like it. “Fair enough. Do I have to move in with you?”
“That’s what married people do, right? Live under the same roof?”
She passes me the last unused napkin on our table. “Write down your address. I’ll be there tomorrow. But I’m taking the guest bedroom. You better have one.”
“I do,” I say. “I appreciate this, Petal. I really do. And now I’ve got to get back to the city.”
I bend to give her a kiss on the cheek, which she doesn’t seem to mind, and look out the window of the coffee shop to see a couple paparazzi waiting. Jesus, those guys can track anyone, anywhere. It’s incredible.
“Hey, you never got a gift for your neighbor,” she says with a smirk.
“Yeah, oh well,” I say, shrugging. “Guess that means I’ll have to come back.”
17
PETAL
“Oh,Petal, this is so exciting, especially after that mess with Andy,” Mom says, scrolling through her phone and reading article after article about Rake and me.
Newlyweds!
San Fran girl and star athlete!
Breaking the ice!
Slapshot to love!
The headlines go on and on. It’s weird that people are so interested, but I guess that’s the point.
I want to tell my mother this is all a sham. Just be straight with her, no hiding things. But I can’t, not under the terms of the contract I signed. I mean, Icouldtell her, but my mother is like the town crier. Everyone in her circle would know in hours, which means that the word would be out everywhere.
No, Mom can’t keep a secret to save her life. I’ll just have to keep her in the dark for the time being.
“Thanks, Mom. It feels really good,” I say, mustering all the fake enthusiasm I can.
I grab the glass of wine she hands me over the kitchen counter and take a long inhale. It feels good to be back in her house, the one I grew up in, drinking Mom’s wine, and hanging out with her.
