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“My dad is in the wind, and my mom, well, Grams didn’t leave her the condo because Mom would have sold it and spent the money on three Dior dresses in hopes that she could snare a rich husband.” Oof, that sounds bitter. “I mean, I think she meant for me to use it to take care of the family I have left.”
“Not all parents do their jobs well. Mine are very flighty,” he shares. His admission eases my embarrassment and, unfortunately, loosens my tongue.
“Mom isn’t flighty; she’s a loose cannon. One minute she shows up flush with cash trying to give me the latest ‘it’ accessory, and the next minute, she can’t make her rent and ‘can she have the gift back so she can sell it at the consignment store.’” Gosh, why am I trauma dumping on this guy? I make myself shut up about my mom. “What about you? I’ll need to know some details about your life since the stuff in the chats was, um, a lie.”
“My parents moved abroad a few years ago. My Aunt Gia is determined to marry me off and has been forcing me to meet various daughters of her friends, so thank you for saving me from that. I own a business.” He stops after that. I guess he’s embarrassed it’s not doing well. A lot of men’s identities are tied to their wallets.
“Star sign?” I ask.
“Star sign?” he repeats, a befuddled expression on his face. He’s adorable if a six-foot-four-inch built like an athlete man can be adorable.
“Your astrological sign in case someone asks.”
“Is this the kind of place where people would ask that?”
“Yes. Absolutely. The lady in 4 reads tarot cards for fun. She read mine when I was around twelve.”
“What did she have to say?”
That I’d suffer a lot of grief before I’d find true love and to beware of fake friends and scammers. I hate to admit it, but I think this guy sort of falls into the scammer column. He’s taking me for money that I don’t really have to spare in exchange for pretending to marry me. Although I guess I’m trying to scam the condo people, so maybe we’re perfect for each other. Two liars bound together in unholy matrimony, except we don’t actually have to be married, so we might escape the lightning bolt of judgment.
“That bad?” he says.
I shake myself free of my thoughts. “The normal stuff. My current relationships are rocky, success will be big but elusive, there will be challenges ahead, and I have to make the right decisions or suffer consequences.”
“I hope this was a free reading.”
“It was. Grams gave her an Irish lace table runner. To be honest, I didn’t think it was a fair trade because the reading took no more than ten minutes, and Grams worked on that table runner for two months.”
“The tarot reader probably sensed your animosity and gave you a bad reading because of it.” His hand comes up to cup the back of my head again, and I swear it feels like he strokes my hair. The urge to lean into his palm and purr like a kitten makes my knees weak.
“We should go,” I say hoarsely because if we don’t leave, there’s a high probability I’m going to throw him down onto the green and white velour sofa and have my wicked way with him.
Chapter Eight
CAL
Ilet my hand slide down her frame to rest at the small of her back. She doesn’t move away from my touch, and there was a moment that I felt like she was leaning into it. It’s a positive sign. The next step is moving us from fake fiancé to real marriage, and I have a feeling that there will be an opportunity at the co-op board meeting to make that happen. Harlow might not be ready, but I’m not about to let her slip through my fingers. I’ll wait for her to adjust, but she needs to be tied in the meantime.
“The board is kind of intimidating, but I know several of them from the years of visiting Grams. She was well-liked, and I think their main hesitation in allowing me to live here is that I’m single without a big income. They’re worried I’ll bring in a renter or worse.”
“What falls into the worse category?”
“Maybe that I’ll start selling drugs?” She shrugs. “I’m not really sure. They just said that I needed to show that I was a stable resident, and when I asked how, Gertie said if I was married that would be enough.”
“Not just engaged?” Things are already moving toward my plan.
“People are engaged for years. Gertie can’t expect me to get married tomorrow or even a month from tomorrow.” She looks over her shoulder with a reassuring smile. “I promise I’m not trying to lure you into marriage. We just need to pretend to be engaged for this meeting and then when my residency is approved, we’ll break up. Of course, I won’t tell Gertie right away. I’ll just say you are off on business.”
“Or I could move in.”
She stumbles. “What?”
“If Gertie needs more convincing, I’ll move in.”
“I, ah, don’t think that will be necessary.”
It will be when I’m done with the co-op board. “Let’s hear what they have to say,” I reply noncommittally.
