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I sit higher up. “You make yourself unavailable. Your life is work, and that’s all. Don’t you want more?”
Foster tugs at his tie, loosening and sliding it through his collar. “I have more. My business is solely mine.”
“Why the eighteen months?”
“It’s part of the deal. If my marriage falls apart in less than a year, the balloon payment is due.”
“Why not twelve months then?”
“I added six for good measure.”
I sigh, then bite my lip. “I’ll try to manage.”
Foster reaches for my hand. It is warm where mine is cold from the air conditioning. “And I’ll try to do better,” he promises. “I also want you to move to an office at work. You’re my wife, and it wouldn’t look proper if you sat in a cubicle.”
“Why don’t I just quit and shop all day?”
“Is that what you want?”
Foster moves closer and puts his other hand over mine, rubbing it to warm me up.
“I wouldn’t take advantage of your wealth.”
He throws his head back, and a deep guttural laugh escapes from his belly before he looks at me again. “You would have to shop non-stop to take advantage. I’m not sure you’re aware of how wealthy I am.”
“I still wouldn’t do it. I’m not in this for what you can provide.”
He lets go of my hand. “Which reminds me.” Reaching into his jacket, he extracts a dark blue velvet box. When he snaps the lid open, my eyes catch sight of a set of large teardrop diamond earrings.
I inhale sharply as I reach out to trace them with my finger. “You didn’t need to do this.”
“It’s a gift for my bride.”
“Your fake bride.”
Foster’s expression tightens as he frowns. “Does it matter if you’re fake or otherwise? I got you a gift.” He shoves the box into my hand and slides to his side of the seat. I glance back at the diamonds glinting under every streetlight as we pass. They were beautiful and at least two carats each.
“Thank you.”
Without turning his head, he snarls, “I hope your reaction to other gifts won’t be as dull.”
“Can this night just end?” I retort.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Foster goes silent, and I force back tears threatening to fall. I knew what this was, and it was no use getting so emotional over my fake husband. He is never going to change. In eighteen months, I can start my life over again.
Despite Foster wanting to take me on a short honeymoon, I decline. We originally planned to spend time at his home in Colorado, but I didn’t care to paste a smile on my face in public. Instead, we take three days off and spend it in the city. Foster spends most of it conducting business from his home office. I stay in my room, watching romantic movies and wishing they were my life. On the third day, I hear knocking on my door.
“Paige, can I come in?” I hear Foster ask.
“Yes.”
When he pushes the door open, his eyes telescope to my bare legs. I hadn’t motivated myself to get dress since we got married. Right now, I am wearing a long white t-shirt and a pair of pink short shorts.
“You’re very casual,” he comments.
He is one to talk since he is clad in a red tank top and light blue jeans. “So are you. It suits you. You look relaxed.”
