Her smile was quick, but it reached her eyes.
My mind was already forming a plan.
When she finally made it to my table, she wiped a ring of water from the surface and grinned.
“Rough day?”
“You could say that,” I admitted, introducing myself.
She poured my refill. “Well, the secret’s extra sugar. On the house. I’m Claire.”
My mind was already forming a plan.
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I almost smiled. “Do you have five minutes to talk later? I have a strange proposal.”
She tilted her head, curious. “My break’s not for two hours. But if you’re still here, ask me then.”
For the first time in months, I actually wanted to stay.
***
When Claire finally slid into the seat beside me on her break, she handed me a plate of cookies.
“Alright,” she said, glancing sideways. “I’m here. So, what’s this strange proposal?”
I fiddled with my cup, nerves kicking in. “This is going to sound insane, but just hear me out, okay?”
“Do you have five minutes to talk later? I have a strange proposal.”
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Claire smiled. “Try me.”
I took a deep breath. “My parents… they’re wealthy. Like, country club, holiday-in-Europe, everything-by-the-book kind of wealthy.”
She whistled low. “That’s intense.”
“They gave me an ultimatum. To get married by my next birthday, or get cut off.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s not a joke. They even gave me a list of acceptable women. I don’t want to marry any of them. I barely know them. But I also… I don’t want to lose everything I’ve ever known.”
“Try me.”
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Claire leaned back, studying me. “So, you want me to… what, pretend to be your wife?”
“Exactly. One year. No strings. We do the paperwork, act married around my parents, then quietly divorce. I’ll pay you well, I promise. You can tell your family whatever you want. I’ll handle everything.”
She sipped her coffee, silent for a minute.
“Will there be a contract?”
“There will be, yes. I’ll put everything in writing.”
“So, you want me to… what, pretend to be your wife?”
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Claire tapped her fingers on the table. “And I can tell my parents I’m getting married for real?”
“Absolutely. I’d expect nothing less.”
She looked at me. “You seem honest, Adam. Or at least desperate.”
“A little bit of both, Claire.”
Claire nodded. “Alright. Text me the details.”
That night, my phone buzzed with a text: “Okay, Adam. I’m in.”
“Alright. Text me the details.”
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***
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