The Pretend Fiancé (9 page)

Gwen accepted, surprised at the strength of the grip. "Nice meeting you, too... Hey," she said, not letting go when Catherine tried to disengage. "What do you think I should do?"

Catherine frowned slightly, the tiniest little wrinkle forming between her perfectly-kept eyebrows. "I say go for it."

"I thought it was selfish and short-sighted, though?" Gwen said, still not letting go. She really needed to know.

"Love is selfish and short-sighted. Except when it's selfless, I suppose. Like with parents. You can't force them to sign onto your plan, but that doesn't mean you can't, or shouldn't, ask them. So go for it. Maybe it will all work out. And it sounds like your new fiancé will love you no matter how it ends up. Besides, you could probably get a movie deal for the story. I know I'd go see it! Now, I'm sorry, but I really do have to run..."

This time Gwen let go. She watched Catherine walk away, back towards the hotel, and tried not to be too jealous of that view, either. For a few moments, she felt a pang of regret at not asking for Catherine's email or something. It seemed like they'd hit it off pretty well. It would be nice to see her again.

Emboldened, filled with a renewed sense of purpose, Gwen snatched the new contract up from the bistro table.

"I
'm sorry, you want us to what?" Barb said.

Gwen had gone straight back to the hotel, knocked on her mother's door, and dragged her over to her father's room. Barb and David sat in the pair of wingback chairs in the corner while Gwen stood in front of them, the contract laid on the coffee table.

"We're clearly just not understanding, Barb," David said. His own confusion revealed itself in the way his eyebrows kept climbing up his forehead and then dropping back down.

Gwen had felt so good, so energized, after that talk with Catherine. But now the frustration started coming back.

"Okay, let me try the quick version. Aiden's grandmother, Judith, hates me and thinks I'm a gold digger out to take Aiden for his money. One of the big reasons she hates me is you two, and the way you act around each other. It comes down to this. If you don't agree to help me with this, Aiden will be forced out of Carbide Solutions and he'll lose everything he's been working towards his whole life."

David leaned forward and tapped the contract. "And if we agree to this... deal, she won't cast him out and all that? You two will live happily ever after?"

"That's the dream," Gwen said.

Barb looked between father and daughter. Then she stood and started pacing, rubbing at her face. Gwen kept hearing the way the legs of her slacks whisked as they rubbed together.

She stopped pacing and rounded on them. "I'm pretty sure this isn't April 1st. So if it's a joke, it's in poor taste, Gwenny. Is this your idea, David? Your way of trying to make this as unpleasant for me as possible?"

"Of course not!" David said, also standing, "What could possibly possess me to delay divorcing you even longer than you've already managed to?"

"And what's that supposed to mean? My demands are reasonable. Agree to them and it's all through. You're the one holding this up!" Barb said, redness flushing up her neck and into her face.

Gwen grabbed the contract and then slapped it down onto the table. The loud crack got their attention, and they stopped their bickering.

"It's not a joke! This is real. You could go ask Judith yourselves, but I'd prefer to spare you from that ordeal. I know I can't make you do this. And I'll totally understand if you don't. But this is important, and I'm asking for your help. So will you sign? Will you do what she's asking?"

Barb and David looked at each other, checking for any sign that it was actually some sort of elaborate, multi-stage joke. They found no indication of that in each other's eyes.

Barb stepped forward. "Fine, I believe you. But are you sure Judith is serious? What kind of a person does this sort of thing? What kind of person proposes this sort of thing? I just can't believe that she would!"

Here, Gwen became a touch bashful, feeling some heat in her own cheeks and looking down at her feet. "Actually, this time it was my idea..."

"Your idea! Gwenny, what is happening with you?" Barb said.

"Hold it," David broke in, "What do you mean, 'this time'?"

"Nothing," Gwen said.

"Gwendolyn," David said, "I know you think I'm starting to get old and bumbling, but I'm probably only half as stupid as you think I am. You did say 'this time.' When was the last time?"

"It's..." Gwen said, spreading her hands, "It's not the first time I've signed a contract with Aiden's family. That's how I know she's serious."

"What was the last contract for?" Barb said, both parents abandoning their argument to form a united front.

Faced with such opposition, Gwen couldn't resist.
With what I'm asking them to do, they deserve the truth
. Though just because they deserved it didn't mean she relished having to tell them.

But she did, outlining the whole New York girlfriend contract debacle. Finishing, she sank into one of the chairs vacated by her parents.

Barb sat down at the foot of David's bed, her face blank as she tried to absorb this. David's hands tightened into fists as he sides before he forced them to relax again.

"So that whole thing was a lie, then? Even that story about finding that ring from the Titanic?"

"Yes, it was a lie..." Gwen said, all the guilt and frustration she'd pent up in the months of keeping all those secrets doing their best to crush her into the floor.

David shook his head. "I told that story to my friends at the office..."

"I'm sorry," Gwen said, "But it was a secret. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. Legally."

Barb sighed heavily, also shaking her head. It was amazing how they could team up like that when Gwen was involved. "And what about after the contract ended? Why didn't you tell us then?"

"Because I knew you'd both be disappointed in me, and I didn't want that."

The anger melted from Barb's face. She and David looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," Gwen said, beginning to tremble. That they weren't yelling at her, reaming her out for keeping that secret and lying to them, just made her feel even worse. She wished they'd just do it, just get it over with. Why were they taking so long?

"Gwen, your mother and I could never be disappointed in you. No matter what you do, we love you. That's one of the things it means to be parents. Good parents, at least," David said.

Barb went to Gwen, smoothing her daughter's bangs off her forehead so she could plant a kiss there. Gwen closed her eyes at the feeling. Barb had done that every night while Gwen was growing up.

"Your father and I need to talk about a few things, Gwen. Why don't you go wait in the hall? We'll let you know when to come back in."

"Okay..." Gwen said, choking up. It had been so much harder to tell them about all that than she thought it would be. And their reaction... Well, she just didn't know how to process that.

So she waited out in the hall, leaning next to the door. A maid came by, pushing her trolley loaded with towels and cleaning supplies and single servings of instant coffee. She gave Gwen a look, but said nothing.

It felt like she waited for a solid hour, but she knew it was probably only around ten minutes before David opened the door and poked his head out.

"Come back in, sweetie."

Inside, Barb handed the contract over. "It's all signed. We just want you and Aiden to be happy, Gwenny."

"Oh my God! Are you sure? You guys don't have to do this, you know," Gwen said, taking the contract and holding it against her chest.

"We can't say it will be easy," David said, "But if you think it's worth trying, then we do, too. I mean, what's another year?"

"Another year after Gwen and Aiden get married. How can you work in an office and not read the fine print, David?" Barb said, crossing her arms tightly.

David's eye twitched, but rather than bite back he gave them both a tight-lipped smile.

Gwen also smiled, but then the expression faltered. She realized that her life had just become even more complicated than it already was.

***

G
wen!
Aiden thought when he heard a knock at the door. Which, as he stood up from the desk located on the first floor of their suite, made no sense. Gwen wouldn't knock because she had a key.

He tried shuffling the mess of papers on the desk into something more orderly. They consisted variously of quarterly reports, projections, analyst opinions, that sort of thing. And today Aiden couldn't bring himself to care about them.

His eyes kept sliding over the figures while his mind continued wondering if he should go find Gwen. She'd been gone a while. Just over two hours now. And he'd begun to worry.

"Coming!" he said when the knocking resumed.

Before reaching the door, he stopped by the closet, which was helpfully equipped with a full length mirror. He buttoned his shirt back up and tightened his tie back into place.

He also noted the dark hairs stubbling his face and neck, and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.
I look old
, he thought. All this stuff with Judith was aging him, tiring him out.

His family had that sort of effect on people, it seemed.

The knocks came again. They were polite somehow, yet insistent. As though the person on the other side carefully measured each strike, and put thought into when next to do so.

Peering through the peephole, Aiden didn't recognize the person on the other side. It was a man. Blond. Anglo features.

"Yes?" Aiden said, pulling the door open and leaning against the frame.

"Hi," he said, holding his hand out, "I'm Ben Somersby. From the London Reuters office. I believe that you've been expecting me."

Aiden held back a startled flinch. "Yes. I have been..." he said, shaking his hand.
The interview
, he thought,
how could I have forgotten about the interview?

Either Aiden had betrayed more than he thought, or this Ben was good at reading people. "Slipped your mind, has it?"

"Less slipped and more forcibly evicted. I am sorry about that," Aiden said. His PR agent had told him several times about what a good idea this was. How it would help the company. How Carbide Solutions owned a large interest in this particular media outlet and that it was guaranteed to come out favorable. On an intellectual level, Aiden understood.

On an emotional level, he hated reporters and journalists. All that paparazzi nonsense back in New York had left him biased against that entire industry.

Though Ben Somersby here seemed nice enough, and not just some other sleaze out to make a name for himself through the tabloids. Which made Aiden instantly suspicious. It was always the person you gave that free pass to who used it to get behind your back with the proverbial knife.

Besides, there was something else he didn't like about the man. Though he couldn't really put a name to it.

"Understandable. I spoke with your lovely fiancé earlier. I take it she didn't mention me?" Ben said.

"She's been otherwise occupied," Aiden said, "It probably slipped her mind, too." Meanwhile, Aiden couldn't stop himself from asking why Gwen hadn't told him.

"Of course. No problem. It's just the sooner we get the interview done, well, the sooner it's complete, if you get me. Speaking of, I'm ready whenever the two of you are."

Aiden wondered if the man had worked on his accent at all. It was too proper. Too posh. As though he put it on for the express purpose of impressing Americans. Specifically, American women.

His first urge was to send Ben away, to put it off. However, he knew that you never got ahead at anything by continually delaying it. The things you didn't want to do were often also the things that you should do. And sooner rather than later.

"How about now?" Aiden said, finally shifting his body out of the doorway to invite Ben inside.

"Now works," Ben said. He started to enter, but hesitated. "Your fiancé, is she here? I'm to interview the both of you, you see."

"She stepped out. I'm expecting her back any time now," Aiden said, "Come inside and wait, if you like."

Ben followed Aiden in, who led them to that sunken spot in the floor with its couch and matching wingback chairs. Ben immediately sank into one of the chairs, while Aiden sat on the couch.
Please
, Aiden thought,
have a seat
.

He hoped the interview wouldn't take long. He glanced at the door, adding another hope to his wish list that Gwen would arrive sooner rather than later.

However, it appeared that Ben hadn't been hired for his good looks and charming accent. The journalist didn't waste an opportunity. He took out a small, black recorder and set it on the coffee table, then pulled out a small notepad with a stubby pen stuck in through the ring bindings.

"You're a Harvard man, is that right?" Ben said.

"It is," Aiden replied.

"Business major with a minor in ethical philosophy. Do I still have your number?"

"You do." And that irked Aiden. He kept trying to remind himself that this was Ben's job, researching people. He was just doing his job. Still, he didn't like not being on equal footing. "And what about you? Oxford? University College?"

"I read English at Cambridge, actually."

"And now you're a journalist." Normally Aiden had no problem with the humanities. Unlike most other business majors, he did see the value in that sort of education. Right at that moment, however, he couldn't keep the patronizing tone from his voice.

Ben stopped scribbling on his notepad. "Well, I tried my hand at writing the next modern classic. Drama and meaning and introspection, all that. But as it turns out, people are more interested in little wizard children and fascist futures."

Ben smiled, but Aiden saw through the expression. He'd caught the way the journalist had glanced at him when he referred to fascists, the tone of voice he'd used.

"I've always heard publishing isn't for the faint of heart," Aiden replied.