Man in Love

by Laurelin Paige

  “It’s not—” He started to move toward me, then stopped himself. “It’s not real. I am not marrying her.”

  “Then why would you tell a room full of reporters that you are? How stupid do you think I am, Scott? Do I really come off that naïve?”

  “No. Never. Of course not. How can... You are…” He stopped to gather himself, pinning me in place with his gaze when he did. “You know that I think you’re the smartest, most talented, passionate woman I’ve ever met. And if you don’t know, then I’m sorry because I should have told you more often. I’m endlessly fascinated with the way you think. Your brain is half the reason I’m so fucking in love with you.”

  My chest pinched at the declaration, but I refused to let the L-word make me weak. “Then once again, why would you announce, to all the world, that you’re marrying another woman?”

  “Because if the world believes it, then my father will believe it, and I need my father to believe that I am.”

  “Why does it…?” I wasn’t dumb, though, and once I gave myself a second, it wasn’t hard to figure it out. “He threatened you.”

  Scott sighed, his expression confirming my suspicions. “Let’s go sit down and talk. Okay?”

  I was not in the mood to be coddled. “What did he threaten you with?”

  “Please, Tess.” His blue eyes bore into me. “I’ll tell you everything, but can we at least discuss this somewhere other than my front hall?”

  I held his stare for several tense seconds. Then, without a word, I strode past him, careful not to let any part of my body graze his as I did, knowing that even the barest of touches would cause me to disintegrate.

  I could feel him following though, his heat radiating on my back the way a fireplace only warmed what was in front of it, leaving the rest of my body cold. Part of me wished he’d pull me back into his arms and heat me up entirely.

  The rest of me feared that if he did, I’d be under his spell forever, that I’d accept his excuses, that I’d make up excuses of my own.

  I was already rationalizing his behavior. If Henry had threatened him, then maybe this wasn’t Scott’s fault. His father was menacing. I had proof of it from the things he’d said to me. “Did you really think he’d choose you?”

  I had thought that. After today, I was sure I’d been wrong.

  Now I was back to wondering if Henry had been trying to get into my head. What had he said to get into Scott’s head?

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked when we’d reached his living room.

  I barely heard the offer, too preoccupied with working out what his father could be holding over his head. He’d been following me, and I turned now to face him but found myself with a view of his back since he’d crossed to the bar. “Did he threaten to fire you?”

  “He’d never fire one of his sons. It would look bad on him. Wine? Water? I have tequila.”

  From what Scott had told me about his relationship with his father, there wasn’t anything else he wanted besides a better position and a spot on the board. But he’d already accepted that he would lose those. Had he changed his mind?

  Then it hit me, the lightbulb clear and bright. The thing Scott had assured me would happen, even when his father had resisted. “It was the DRF. He said he won’t sponsor the DRF.”

  “See? Not naïve at all.” Scott pulled a bottle of sparkling water from his fridge and held it out toward me.

  “Because...why? I mean, why would he even think that mattered that much to you?”

  “Because it does matter to me. Because it matters to you.”

  I didn’t want to admit how swoony that statement made me. But it had knocked me speechless, whether I wanted it to or not.

  And after I recovered from the swoon, I felt sick. Henry Sebastian hated me that much. Not me, exactly, since he barely knew me, but the idea of me. The idea of his son consorting with a half-ethnic girl from a single-mother household that pulled in an income barely above the poverty line.

  I wasn’t good enough for Scott, straight and plain. Not in his father’s eyes. Probably not in most of the world’s eyes.

  Expect it to get it, but better not expect more than you’re worth. That was the real Sebastian way.

  “So nothing to drink?”

  I shook my head, and Scott put the bottle back in the fridge before turning back to me. He leaned against the bar, his hands wrapped around the counter as though it was the only thing keeping himself from me, and from the look on his face, his grip was slipping.

  He doesn’t feel the way his father does. He couldn’t. Right?

  I forced myself out of my stupor and tried to focus on the particulars of what he’d admitted, needing a clear picture so I could delineate bad guy from maybe-not-bad guy. “So explain this to me. You come into the office today after being gone for a long weekend, and your father says…?”

  “Tess, will you please sit down?”

  “Will you please explain?”

  He was tempted to give me the I’ll-explain-if-you-sit-down retort; I could see it in his eyes. But he must have realized my agitation level was too high for manhandling because he let it go and sat himself, perching on the edge of his armchair, his forearms resting on his thighs. “I came in this morning around eight, and my father was already waiting for me. He was worked up about a headline in the WashPo over the weekend attacking his commitment to energy reduction, and he insisted I come up with something to distract the media. I suggested announcing the DRF sponsorship.”

  “Even though the paperwork has yet to be signed?”

  “It was a risk, announcing early.”

  “But it makes him publicly committed.”

  “Right. He wanted a distraction. I wanted his commitment. Two birds, one stone.”

  I paced along the length of his couch, trying to imagine the scene, which wasn’t really important but was easier than attacking the real question which was does Scott think I’m good enough for him? And the nearly as important follow-up: am I going to be stupid enough to still love him if he doesn’t think I am?

  I was afraid the answers weren’t ones I’d like, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that.

  Instead, Henry and his son, discussing a PR fiasco. “Okay, but it doesn’t make sense. If he needed a distraction, why would he be threatening not to go through with the sponsorship?”

  “Well.” His eyes darted back toward the bar, as though he were wishing he’d gotten himself a drink while he’d been there.

  It wasn’t a strong enough impulse for him to follow through.

  His eyes came back to me. “He didn’t want to use that as the PR distraction. He wanted me to come up with something else. I had to convince him, which was why I didn’t try to call you about the press conference until almost ten. You were supposed to be up there on that stage with us. Kendra said it was weird not having you there.” He paused, letting that sink in.

  In other circumstances, I might have been thrilled to know I hadn’t been excluded from my own project. In this particular moment, it barely fazed me.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to get the reaction he’d expected, he went on. “Anyway, when I couldn’t get a hold of you, I told Eden to send you away if you showed up because I didn’t want you walking in without getting a heads-up first, which was why I didn’t expect for you to hear like that.”

  “Hear what, exactly? I’m still confused. What would you have said if you’d gotten hold of me? That your father had threatened to take away the sponsorship and so you’d offered to get married so that he wouldn’t?”

  “No, I didn’t offer. It was an ultimatum.” He let out a frustrated breath of air. “Look, it went like this: He had a PR problem. I said announce the sponsorship. He said, ‘I will if you marry Kendra, but if you’re not going to then I’m not signing the deal, and you need to find another way to bury the problem.’ Clear now?”

  It felt like there was still a piece I was missing, but maybe that wasn’t important. “So then you just
have to pretend you’re engaged until the paperwork goes through?” That wasn’t quite so bad. It had been a slow process so far, but that would be, what? Another few weeks? A month at the most? Was I legit overreacting about this?

  “Actually, the paperwork isn’t binding like that.” He sounded both grave and apologetic. “It’s more about obligations required by the DRF in exchange for the funds—requirements for how they’ll use the money and such. Assurances that Conscience Connect will get paid. It’s basically a charitable donation, though. SIC is allowed to cancel at any time.”

  The DRF would make a budget based on the expectation of those funds, and Henry Sebastian could pull it at any time? “That’s terrible.”

  “SIC is in the position of power. They have the upper hand.”

  Of course, that was how it worked. Always protecting the big guy. Always leaving the little guy out in the cold.

  Well, it wasn’t like this was my first encounter with corporate America. “So then you have to stay engaged until the funding goes through. Got it. How long will that take?”

  “The way the contract is currently written?” His eyes shifted guiltily. “Uh. At least a year.”

  “No. Hell, no. Are you fucking kidding me?” He’d have to pretend to be engaged to Kendra for a year, and I’d be...what? His mistress? His secret sidepiece? “No fucking way.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “I know, Tess. I know!”

  I forced myself to pause and evaluate once again whether or not I was overreacting.

  It only took a couple of seconds thinking it through before I realized I most definitely was not. “Have you even thought about what that will be like? You couldn’t have. You are way too calm to have really considered this.”

  “I have thought about it, Tess. Believe me. I’ve thought about it from every angle, and yes, it sucks. It fucking sucks. But there isn’t another option.”

  “You haven’t had enough time to be able to say that. The conference was at eleven. When did your dad deliver the ultimatum? You said he was waiting at eight? That’s not enough time to go through all your options.”

  “I…” Again the guilty eyes. “He didn’t give the ultimatum today.”

  And there was the piece I’d been missing. “Oh my God, you knew since last week. When you told your parents you weren’t going through with it. Which is why you rushed starting the documentary. And Teyana. And why you were so quick to use the sponsorship to cover his PR nightmare.” The puzzle filled in completely. “You just decided on your own, and didn’t even think to tell me?”

  He shot to his feet. “I tried. You didn’t answer your phone, which now I know was because—”

  I cut him off. “We spent four days together. You had plenty of opportunity before today.”

  “Yes, I did. And I meant to. Truly, I did. I took you away thinking that all I needed was some time, and I’d figure out a way to explain that you were losing your sponsorship because my father was a controlling asshole who couldn’t stand for any one of his children to be happy. But then you talked about how much the DRF meant to you—”

  “Don’t even blame this on me—”

  “I’m not blaming. I’m saying that I knew before, but after what you said to my grandfather, I understood better—”

  “And you thought I’d want you to endure a fake engagement for who knows how long just so the DRF would be funded?”

  “I thought—” He took a beat, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower than the near shouting from a moment before. “I thought it would be an impossible decision for you. So I made it so you didn’t have to choose.”

  I’d wanted him to boss me at certain times, but outside the bedroom it was patronizing and demeaning. “Oh, how noble of you. Making the sacrifice so I wouldn’t have to.”

  “Well, yeah. I did.”

  “Well, you chose wrong!”

  In two strides he was right in front of me. “Did I? Really, Tess, really think about it. Really think about the repercussions of any other decision. Really think about it, and then tell me what you would choose.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “You!”

  “Really? Without a second thought, that’s your choice? I would help Teyana out no matter what, which we’d fight about before you let me, but all those strangers suffering from similar disorders? All that exposure that the DRF would get through this sponsorship?” I took a step back, but he stepped with me until my legs hit the couch, not allowing me any space. “You’d feel good about giving all of that up? Because you fell in love?”

  I shook my head.

  I kept shaking my head.

  Because I didn’t know. Because this was bigger than me and him. Because this was like the trolley car dilemma given in psychology—do you choose to sacrifice one person in order to save a large number of people? And maybe that was being dramatic because no one’s life was on the line, but it also wasn’t dramatic because dysautonomia wrecked lives, and I wanted to believe that I would choose the greater good, but my heart belonged to Scott, and I wanted to choose him, selfish and wrong as that might be.

  I covered my face with my hands. “You’re right. You’re right! I wouldn’t be able to choose.” Still shaking my head, I sank down to the floor. “I wouldn’t be able to choose.”

  “I know.”

  When I lowered my hands, my fingers were wet with tears, and there was Scott in front of me, stooped on one knee. “It’s not fair,” I said.

  “I know.” And when he shifted to sit next to me, I let him pull me into his arms.

  He rocked me, kissing my head, while I breathed in the scent of him and drew his warmth into my body and pretended that this was all it would take to make everything right between us again.

  But pretending only lasts so long.

  “You shouldn’t have told me at all,” I said, and I meant it. “You should have said your father wasn’t going to sign the deal and not let me know it had anything to do with us, and then you wouldn’t have to be engaged, and I wouldn’t have to know.”

  He leaned back so he could look at me. “I couldn’t choose that either, Tess.”

  “Because you’re not a bad guy.” My voice cracked.

  He brushed a damp strand of hair off my face. “I’m feeling pretty bad right now.”

  Then I was buried back in his shoulder, tears falling but somehow managing to not actually break down. More rocking. More soft kisses.

  Wrapped up like this in him, it all seemed so overblown. Henry Sebastian was a powerful man, but he couldn’t be that powerful. He didn’t have to be that intimidating. If we refused to let him, he wouldn’t be. We could find another option.

  “There are other companies that could sponsor the DRF,” I said after a while. “We don’t have to accept that SIC is the only opportunity.”

  “How likely would you be able to get something better?”

  SIC was the biggest corporation Conscience Connect had ever worked with by far. “Not likely. But expect it to get it, right?”

  “That’s a good mantra when applying it to your own fate. It seems irresponsible when the fates of hundreds of others are in your hand.”

  I sighed, nuzzling into his neck. “I wish you weren’t so decent.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He was the first decent guy I’d ever been with. The first guy who made me feel decent too. It was the magic part about him, and he was right; I wouldn’t really wish he was different for anything.

  I pulled back to study him. Being in his arms, his lips so close, needing comfort as much as I did, it wasn’t surprising that soon his mouth was on mine. Soft kisses turned frantic. Our bodies rearranged until I was on his lap, and we were molded together, and my brain grew too fuzzy to think clearly.

  But it was still thinking.

  A series of thoughts repeating on a loop. This is enough. These stolen moments are enough. Knowing that he loves me is enough.

  The same sorts of thoughts I’d repeated to myself time and
time again with other men. With a father who barely acknowledged my existence. With a boss who kept me out of the spotlight. This is enough. This is enough. This is enough.

  Say it enough times, you’ll believe it.

  Not anymore.

  Abruptly, I pushed out of his arms. “Scott, I can’t. We can’t.”

  “Nothing changes. I love you.”

  “I know, but.” He reached for me again, so I stood up, away from his inviting embrace. “But this is different. This isn’t a couple of weeks of keeping our relationship on the down-low. You’re talking about a year. Maybe longer.”

  He subtly adjusted the bulge I’d left in his lap. “It will be difficult, yes, but we can make it work.”

  “How? How will it work? What does our relationship look like? I still work with Kendra. I’m supposed to listen to her plan her never-going-to-happen wedding and not say anything?”

  “She knows. I told her.”

  “She knows what? That you aren’t really going to marry her?”

  “And…that…” He stood and tilted my chin up toward his. “I’m in love with you. She understands. She’s willing to go along with it.”

  Wow. That was surprising. Nice surprising, considering that Kendra rarely did anything that didn’t serve herself.

  But her knowing didn’t fix much. “She’s just one person. It doesn’t matter if she’s in on it, you have to convince everyone else who isn’t in on it. You’d have to go to events with her. Be photographed with her. Be interviewed about her. Be interviewed with her. She’d be the one at your side at family gatherings. You certainly can’t bring me to your great-aunt Ida’s birthday party.”

  A flash of disappointment crossed his face. Then it was gone, hidden behind a stoic expression. “I wouldn’t bring her either.”

  Yeah, he hadn’t really thought this through. I knew he hadn’t.

  I pulled his hand down from my chin. “And when would we see each other? Would you have to pay off your doorman? We couldn’t go out to dinner together. Couldn’t go to the opera. Couldn’t be seen in public. Sneaking around is hot for a minute, but it gets old real fast. Always worrying if someone’s going to see us. Always carrying the weight of the consequence if your parents find out. I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about you. For all intents and purposes, we’d be having an affair.