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BECKY
Another week flows by, and I feel like Todd and I are getting closer—perhaps closer than we should. He seems to really enjoy coming around, and Elliot has grown very fond of him. On one hand, it’s great; it means we’ll have an easier time selling the happy-family image when the time comes. On the other hand, it makes my heart turn and twist itself into a painful knot as I realize that this will eventually come to an end.
“I didn’t know you could cook fish like this,” Todd says as he helps himself to a second serving. We’re having dinner at my place tonight, and I even had the table set for a proper date with the nicer plates and fancy cutlery I usually keep for special guests. Elliot is fast asleep, but that was all part of the plan. We’ve made a habit of spending more time together without him as well, to make the whole thing more believable. I’m just worriedI’mstarting to believe it, too. “This has to be the best fish I’ve ever had.”
“The secret is in the salt crust,” I tell him, refilling my wine glass. “It’s a recipe I got from my grandmother. It’s been passed down through generations, all the way back to some tiny Norwegian fishing village.”
He chuckles, but the conversation quickly takes a more serious turn. “Listen, Becky, I’ve been thinking about ways to make your life easier. Your life and Elliot’s, to be specific.”
I sigh deeply. “No, Todd, you don’t have to—”
“Just hear me out,” he says. “I don’t want to give you money; it wouldn’t be fair. But I can pay you more for the exceptionally fine work you’re already doing for my company. I’ve spoken to HR about giving you a considerable bump in your yearly salary, and we’re also setting you up with a private pension fund,” he adds. “This means you’ll have the money you need to look after your parents in their old age. Based on their current age and medical histories, I figure they’ve got about another ten years before you and your sisters will have to start considering a nursing home.”
“Wow… You’ve definitely given this some thought,” I manage.
“I’m just trying to be practical. Please don’t feel insulted.”
I’m not insulted. I am genuinely impressed. This is the kind of stuff that my sisters and I have already discussed to a certain extent. Financially, it will be a burden on us in the long run. We’re all aware of it. Our parents don’t even want us considering a nursing home or hospice care, even if Dad has another stroke, but somebody has to, and somebody has to do that planning part now. I’m amazed that Todd is the one who decided to take the initiative in the matter.
“All I can say is thank you, but I don’t want you to—”
“You don’t get to say no to this,” he cuts me off, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a done deal, whether you like it or not. It’s an executive decision that you don’t get to reject. Unless you would like to quit?”
“Hell no. Are you crazy?!” I croak, horrified by the prospect.
“And there you have it. Done deal, like I said,” he shoots back with a satisfied grin.
And just like that, I find myself somehow set for life in certain aspects. Todd really went ahead and did it. He went through the legal channels, he dealt with HR, and now he’s sitting at my dinner table, eating the food I’ve lovingly prepared for him while my son sleeps in his crib… and I’m wondering what it is I did to deserve any of this. The short answer would be that I did a lot and that this is my time to simply kick back and enjoy the rewards I deserve. Yet the hyper-independent side of me is still uncomfortable. I need to let go of that, at least for now.
“Thank you. I mean, I cannot thank you enough,” I murmur, my cheeks warming. I wonder if he can see me blushing. I can feel the heat blooming and spreading through my entire face. Gosh, he looks so good in that white sweater. He looks so good in jeans and sneakers, too. Ten years younger, thanks to that playful, crooked smile of his that lights up an entire room. “I will never be able to repay you for this…”
“You don’t have to,” he says. “It’s my pleasure, really. I feel like we’re becoming more than employer and employee at this point, Becky. And it goes without saying that I want absolutely nothing in return. Everything I give you, I give it willingly and wholeheartedly. And speaking of this evolution of our relationship… hold on…”
He leaves the table and goes into the foyer. I can hear him searching through his coat pockets by the jingling of his keys. He comes back and kneels on the floor beside my chair. Suddenly, I’m breathless and just… staring at him, my eyes about to literally pop out of their orbits. “What… um, what are you doing?” I manage, my voice no more than a wisp.
“Well, since we’re gonna be husband and wife, I figured we should look the part as well. I had these made especially for the occasion.”
He pops open a small black velvet box, grinning ear to ear as he reveals a set of matching wedding bands. Simple gold rings with a fine engraving of laurel leaves running along the side. I hear myself gasping as I cover my mouth with both hands, my heart skipping frantic beats.
“What… what is this?”
“Wedding rings. We’re husband and wife.”
“Oh… right. Yeah.” I think he heard the disappointment in my voice. I’m certainly feeling it even though I shouldn’t. I have no reason to whatsoever. It’s all a farce. I knew it from the beginning, despite the feelings I’ve been developing in the process. This isn’t a marriage proposal. How could I have been so foolish, if only for a half second, to think that? Geez, no. He’s just adding another layer to the lie that we’re supposed to sell. “Right. We’re married. So, we’re supposed to be wearing rings. Yeah, I get it.”
“Put yours on,” he says and offers me mine.
With trembling hands, I grasp the ring and slip it on my finger. As soon as I see it on, a painful twang cuts through my chest. I realize now that I wholeheartedly wish this were real. But we’ve skipped so many important steps to get to this moment, I cannot pretend, not even for a lazy minute. This is a lie, and I need to get my head screwed back on.
“It’s pretty,” I mumble.
“If we’re gonna make the ruse believable, I have to sell it in the details.”
“It’s a pretty detail.”
“Do you like it?”
Our eyes meet, and I’m surprised by the hopeful glimmer in his gaze. I’m not sure whether it’s just a courtesy question or if he’s really waiting for my approval. But for all the good he has already done to my life, and despite the discomfort of being the only one who’s falling in love in this situation, I cannot deny him this simple gesture, so I gather all my strength and offer a warm smile in return.
