Pretend You’re Mine

by Black, Natasha L.

  Even their initial divorce lawyers had walked out on them. I was doing this as a favor for a friend, but it was fast becoming a professional pain in the ass.

  Finally, I stood up.

  “Let’s reconvene next week.”

  “Next week?” Mr. Birmingham sputtered. “But I thought….”

  “Nothing can be accomplished here today, if neither of you will give an inch, Ryan.”

  So, I walked over to the door and opened it for them. After they left, I waited a few minutes to ensure that they were out of the building’s lobby, and then went home myself.

  Sprawled on my couch, I checked my phone again. Naomi had finally responded with a terse what do you want?

  Clearly, she had no recollection of our night together. Even mine was blurred around the edges, I had flashes of a leggy blonde woman with an intoxicating smile, an about-city romp in a taxi, and one wild idea on our way to the all night wedding chapel that catered to folks in our exact state of inebriation.

  In any case, the best thing to do now was to get to the heart of the matter.

  I called her. After a few rings, likely to indicate just how uneager she was to talk to me, she picked up. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hang up.”

  “Because the marriage certificate I showed you is legit. And because I can explain last night if you’ll see me.”

  “Why can’t you just tell me over the phone?”

  “Explaining in person would be easier.”

  “And if I say no?”

  I said nothing.

  “Who are you anyway?” she was asking.

  “Xander Peterson. A lawyer in downtown LA.”

  “Oh good, you’re a lawyer. So you probably know how to fix this disaster, right?”

  At that point I was willing to tell her anything to get her to talk to me. “Yes.”

  She exhaled audibly on the other end of the line. “Fine. Where?”

  “Ocean 55,” I said. “Tonight, at seven. I’ll pick you up.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. “But I’ll meet you there.”

  She hung up, and I was left with my phone in my hand. My sweet dog Walter had crouched at my feet and was tipping his head my way curiously.

  “This is important,” I explained to him. “If this dinner goes well, it could save me a lot of trouble over the next month.”

  3

  Naomi

  What exactly did he want to explain to me? He said he was a lawyer and he said he could fix it. There really wasn’t anything else to discuss. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the muscles in my neck and shoulder blades pop and stretch.

  I’d been stressed from the moment I pulled on the stupid sexy-ish black dress I sensed would make no difference. Before that, even. An atomic bomb of what the actual fuck had exploded in my head the moment Teren and I saw that text. Teren had actually dropped his Oh Henry, while I had reread the text message - and the certificate - at least a dozen times. As much as I had wanted to, there was no denying the situation. I had, despite any sane and natural order in the world, married this guy.

  The itchy twines of memories didn’t help either, appearing and disappearing like gull-shapes in a fog.

  A flash of Xander’s laughing face. A clasp of his hand. The twist of his lips on mine.

  In any case, now at least we were dealing with it. That was what he’d said on the phone. Now, I was walking into the marble doors of Ocean 55; the type of ritzy restaurant Teren and I usually only drooled over in the LA pamphlets I got at my hair place, Eighteen.

  Getting in was a bit of a head rush. The place was filled with marble statues of marine life, as well as people who seemed to ooze money. The high-ponytailed hostess at a raised marble platform was already looking at me pitying like she knew.

  Why the hell hadn’t I asked him if he was getting a reservation?

  Because I was so eager to get off the phone with his crazy ass.

  “Hello.”

  A hand on my arm made me jump. Xander’s voice was deeper than I’d recalled, he was taller than I’d realized, his face still handsome but somehow harsher than I’d remembered.

  His smile had a sneaky quality about it that I didn’t like one bit. When he held out his arm for me, I could only glance at it, surprised, before he let it fall.

  “This way,” Xander said, taking my elbow and leading me into the dining area.

  I tried not to be impressed with my surroundings or with the fact that Xander was obviously known to these people.

  Although I couldn’t help a note of admiration from sounding in my chest at the way waiters, waitresses, even patrons moved aside for him. He made his way through the restaurant with an unconscious authority.

  Upstairs was a smaller replica of the dining area below with stone tables and chairs and intricate marble décor. Unlike their room downstairs however, this one was empty.

  “I don’t think they’re sitting people here,” I said.

  “They’re not,” he said, sitting down without looking at me. “Just us. I booked it.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that so I just launched right into my reason for coming. “How long do you think the annulment process will take?”

  His eyes swiped over me. “You don’t remember last night at all?”

  “Not much,” I confessed.

  Why did it matter anyway? He clearly wasn’t falling all over me. Although there was something about the way that he looked at me that indicated the odd sex flashes I’d been repressing all day had been spot-on. What I could remember of the sex had been insanely good.

  “Not even the great sex?” he raised a brow, confirming my thoughts.

  “Nope,” I said, shrugging. If he thought I was going to stroke his ego when he was being shady about this whole accidental marriage thing, then he had another thing coming.

  “So, how do you want to do this?” Time to get back on topic. “Can you just do it yourself since you’re a lawyer?”

  “Do what?”

  “Annul the marriage,” I said, not bothering to hide the aggravation in my voice.

  He tilted his head at me, a polite ‘what-do-you-mean’, and I gaped at him. “Over the phone, you said….”

  With two adept fingers he took his fabric napkin out of his holder and put it on his lap. Then, he returned his gaze to me. “I said that we would come here to discuss it. ”

  I stared for a moment, unblinking, as he deliberately prepared himself for a meal. Did he think we were actually just going to sit here like a normal couple and have dinner? Who was this guy? “But why?” I finally came out with.

  Another one of those sweeping gazes, and the tenseness of his features softened. “You really don’t remember?”

  I glared at him again in annoyance. Another sip of his water, and then he began.

  “Since you don’t remember what I told you last night, I’ll tell you again. It’s my family. Ever since my fiancé left me a few years back, they keep trying to set me up with any half-eligible woman on the planet. Apparently, nothing will appease them except me getting married. It’s gotten to the point where I’ll have women show up at my door, claiming that my family sent them to me. Anyway, they’re coming from Germany for Christmas and I need you to play the part of my wife until they go home and leave me alone,” he stated as plainly as if what he was saying was not completely insane. “Now is the worst time for this kind of distraction. I’m trying to expand my law firm, take on more clients.”

  He paused there, perhaps expecting some sign of recognition, which I didn’t give.

  “If I can just convince them to move their attentions elsewhere than my love life, everyone will be happy and we can all just move on.”

  As he said all this, I could see how much it meant to him. It was written in the flex of the muscle in his jaw, the widening of his eyes on certain words. I understood it too. But that didn’t mean I agreed with it.

  “So you’re saying that you’d want me to pretend to be your wife
,” I repeated.

  “Just for over the Christmas holidays,” he said smoothly. “Then you’d be free to go your way, and me mine. We’d get the annulment as though nothing had happened. And of course, I’d be prepared to reimburse you for your time.”

  I jumped in quickly, not wanting to know whatever he had in mind. How dare he suggest that I could be bought?

  “I get that you want to focus on your business,” I said. “Thing is, I’ve got my own too. And it’s pretty new, and I can’t afford a distraction either – not like this.” I took a meager sip of my water, in the hopes it would help clear my mind. “Not to mention that you don’t know my parents. They’d flip out if they got any word of this.”

  “I’m not asking for you to make a big production about it,” Xander said. “In fact, I’d prefer no one knew about this other than me, you, and my family.”

  “My brother already knows,” I admitted. “Thanks to your text.”

  “I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Xander said. “There was nothing else to do.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “But I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

  And just like that, like a light had been switched off. All understanding evaporated from Xander’s face. “You can’t do this,” he said, in a decidedly different tone.

  “I’ve always hated lying,” I said. It was true, for good reason – I was terrible at it. So terrible that when Teren had minor secrets he knew our parents would outright ask me about, he just wouldn’t tell me.

  “It just wouldn’t feel right to intentionally deceive people like that,” I continued.

  Xander was busy rifling through his jacket and looked as though he’d only half heard me.

  When his attention returned to me, it was to shove a stack of bills on the table in front of me. There had to be at least ten thousand dollars sitting right under my nose.

  “Feel alright about it now?” he asked.

  I glared at him. How dare he!

  One look at his expression and I knew, though. The asshole was actually serious.

  I stood up. “So, you won’t annul the marriage then, is what you’re saying?”

  Xander stood up. “I told you, just for the Christmas holidays - the next few weeks, I just need you to pretend-”

  “And I told you,” I said. “I’ve got my own business and life to worry about. My own family. And no amount of money that you plop down in front of me is going to make me change my mind. I’m not sure what kind of woman you are used to dealing with, but I can’t be bought...”

  With that, I shoved the stack of bills away, spilling them all over the table. And then I turned on my heel and left.

  4

  Xander

  Time for Plan B.

  Slumped on the couch, I glared at our conversation history. Maybe it had been a dick move, trying to pay Naomi off. But I was out of other options.

  Besides, it wasn’t that big a deal for her to pretend for a couple of hours for a few weeks. Sometimes, that was how long it took the annulment paperwork to even get through.

  If Naomi had been so averse to reaching any sort of mutually beneficial solution, then why had she worn that black dress? The one that looked like a tightly wrapped black bandage around her, that made me want to follow its lines with my hands and slowly unravel.

  I checked my phone for what must’ve been at least the fifteenth time that hour. But there was nothing. After four calls and three texts, still not even one bitchy response.

  My glare found its way to a silver gilt-framed portrait on the mantel. The oversized one that Mom had foisted upon me last Christmas and demanded I put up in my house (and, had even demanded proof of its being put up). It was the photo crammed with all fifty-something members of my family, extended family, and some family friends that had become as close as family. They were all smiling forcefully, their gazes on me now. As if mocking me.

  Like I needed anything to piss me off more. Reaching over without looking, my fingers connected with the cool glass of sherry on the side table. Sipping it, the blades of tension in my forehead lessened with its roll down my throat. Although it didn’t solve the big question mark of the whole thing.

  Nestled up on the floor, looking cozy and judgy all at the same time, Walter let out a low growl. His head jerk sent several long fur strands shaking.

  “I know it was crazy,” I said. “But I was drunk, okay?”

  Talking to my dog was probably crazy too. Though it wasn’t like I made a habit of it or anything. Just when shit got really bad and I needed to voice my thoughts for fear of them taking over my brain.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “Now that it’s happened, might as well make the best of it.”

  Which was what exactly? Tell my family that I got married but my wife had… social anxiety? A horrible fever? A job that suddenly called her out of the country?

  On the off chance they did buy it, they’d then probably just foist some other eligible female at me. If my family didn’t get to meet my new wife, she’d be as good as dead to them, morality be damned.

  On the seventy-inch flat-screen screen ahead of me, Sean Connery as James Bond was shooting away, the personification of debonair sophistication and skill. At some point, fifteen minutes back, I’d lost the thread of the movie and hadn’t picked it up since.

  My gaze wandered back to the family photo. I would’ve chucked it, if it wasn’t out of reach. This was their fault really.

  Why couldn’t they get it? Coming from the family I had, having the job I did, what person in their right mind would still believe in the merits of love and marriage?

  I took another sip of sherry. There was no point in staying plopped here, feeling sorry for myself. The only thing to do was think of a Plan B – and fast.

  As I picked up the phone, there was another incoming call. Answering it, I frowned at the familiar voice: Jen.

  “Hey, long time no see.” There was a forced casualness to her tone.

  “Indeed,” I said.

  I heard her intake of breath as she was about to say something else, so I cut her off. “Look Jen, I’m married now. You need to move on.” I hung up before I could hear any sort of reaction, angry or sad or otherwise. Although things between Jen and I had been casual over the past few months, and I’d seen other people too, I’d been getting the feeling that she’d wanted something more. Wasn’t like all my hookups were staying late to make me peanut butter toast in the morning, bringing me cinnamon cookies at night. No amount of times of me telling her that I didn’t want anything serious had seemed to get through to her. Maybe the only way to finally get her to see was to be an asshole.

  My phone was still in my hand, and I had to do what I’d set out to – call Naomi.

  “What?” she said, sounding guarded.

  “I’m sorry about before,” I said, trying to hide the surprise in my voice that she’d actually answered the call.

  I was on my feet now, pacing. After a few more seconds, she still hadn’t responded.

  “I shouldn’t have tried to pay you off,” I continued, “It was a total dick move. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  “How about just agreeing to annul the marriage like a reasonable person?” she asked.

  “If you really knew me, you’d realize I’m not all that reasonable,” I admitted.

  “Hmph,” was the only noise she made, although I could’ve sworn I heard a smile in it.

  It was true, too. I’d sat for the LSAT three times even though I’d passed it the first, because I knew I could score higher. Even now as a working lawyer I hadn’t let up. With cases I didn’t just go the extra mile – I ran the whole fucking thing – staying up more nights than not investigating cases and claims, looking for the tiniest snare of a loophole. In the office, where I shared a hallway with two other lawyer friends from school, James and Greg, they called all the crazy things I did in the name of the Xander Files.

  I needed to change tactics. Right now, what was needed was some empathy
to get Naomi on my side. And I was, admittedly, a bit curious about this stubborn gorgeous woman I had married.

  “You said you had your own business,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Naomi replied. “I own a hair salon, Eighteen. It’s in the Clair Creek area.”

  “That sounds nice,” I said, for lack of anything better. I didn’t know the first thing about a woman’s hair salon. I’d gone to the same barber for years in a simple, no frills shop within walking distance from my office.

  “It can be. It can also be stressful,” she said.

  “Listen Naomi. If you did this, it would really help me out. Would it really be that bad?” I asked. “Just a few weeks, over the holidays. You just have to show up to a couple of family functions, nothing major, smile and chat with some people and pretend you don’t hate me. And I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “But still,” she argued. “What if someone saw us and found out?”

  “Couldn’t you just claim that I was some guy you were dating?”

  “I don’t really know anything about you. How would I fool your family if I don’t know anything about you?”

  “Trust me,” I said, “It doesn’t matter. My family loves to talk about themselves. The most that any of them know about me is that I’m a lawyer who still hasn’t gotten married. That’s all you need to know.”

  She remained silent, so I continued. “Ok, what do you want to know? That when I first broke out on my own as a lawyer that I was so scared shitless that I couldn’t do anything for the first month but organize and reorganize my office? That I color coded the folders for the clients I didn’t yet have?”

  “It’s more than I knew five minutes ago,” she said in a clipped voice.

  “Fine.” I forced my voice into neutrality. “What else do you think it would be beneficial to know?”

  “What do you like to do now?”

  “Be a lawyer. Walk my bearded collie. Win my client’s cases. You?”

  “I like to cut hair and occasionally hang out with my brother.”