Insta-Hubby (A Billionaire Fake Relationship Romance)

by Lauren Milson

  “Damn. It’s been that long?” Kaitlyn asks, flicking at a few sugar packets and stirring them into her drink.

  “Yeah. It’s just a hard time of year for everyone. And, on top of everything, I’m thinking of Chris a little bit right now.” I put my hands over my face and peek at her through the crack between two of my fingers. “You mad at me?”

  “Mad?” She puts one of her hands over mine. It’s so comforting and soothing, but the pain is still there. “Of course I’m not mad. But I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

  “I know. It’s just that I found the tape --”

  “You found the tape?” Kaitlyn groans, shaking her head and crossing her arms in front of her. “I thought you threw out the tape. I thought we were never going to talk about the tape again.”

  “Well, I couldn’t help it. I found the tape, and I listened to it.”

  “Why would you listen to it? Have I taught you nothing?” She shakes her head sympathetically but a little bit judgmentally, even though I know she’s just trying to protect me. And she’s right. The situation with Chris was examined from every angle, and all of the evidence was weighed, and Kaitlyn, Jamie and I all decided that it would be in my best interest to throw out the tape.

  “Look,” I say. “There are some good songs on there. Weezer? There's classics on that tape. You can’t just throw it out like an old newspaper.”

  “Yes, you can. Download those songs on your phone if you really need to hear them,” she says, smirking.

  “Ah ha, but there’s the problem,” I say, getting up and walking over to the window. “My truck doesn’t have wifi, or bluetooth, or whatever it is that’ll get the music from my phone and into the speakers. So I had no choice. I had to keep the tape.” I look up at the sky, and it’s almost completely whited out with snow. I decide that it’s just about time to go home.

  “It’s really coming down out there,” Kaitlyn observes, coming over to stand next to me. She puts an arm around my shoulder, and I rest my head into the crook of her neck. “You think anyone else is going to come in to buy anything?”

  “Probably not. You should close up and go home. Everything’s closing now.” The liquor store across the street is sliding down its metal gate, and all of the straggling customers are getting into their cars. The street is lighting up with headlights, blocked out and muted with the swirl of icy snowflakes.

  “Let me lock up and I’ll walk you out. I’ll wash the mugs tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.” Kaitlyn puts our empty mugs in the sink in the back, locks up the cash register, grabs me a large shopping bag, and flips over the sign on the door so it reads Closed. Leaving the Christmas lights on in the windows, we huddle under the green awning as she locks the front door.

  “We need to see each other again,” I say, giving her a hug. “What if I came by the day after tomorrow?”

  “I’d really love that,” she says. “It’s nice to have you back.”

  I walk her to her car and wave as she drives away. She has a newer car, and she takes off easily. I guess the bakery is plenty busy, and owning your own small business must pay pretty well.

  I struggle to get the driver’s side door open on my truck, and finally get in, putting my pastries down carefully on the seat next to me. Revving up, I shift into reverse and check my surrounding to get out of my parking space. It’s a little bit hard to see, but before long I’m off and on my way.

  But I really don’t want to go home just yet. I’m not ready to go home and pretend it isn’t Christmas time, to pretend that the cookies and little sweets I just got are non-denominational winter treats. I want to stop pretending this time of year isn’t special anymore.

  On the side of the road, I spot a youth center parking lot with a few Christmas trees. It looks like the guys who work there are starting to pile the remaining trees up in the back of a van, and the wreaths they have on display on the metal fence are coming down as well.

  Pulling over to the side of the road, I think about bringing a tree home. I know that my family doesn’t really want one, but maybe if I bring one home, they’ll see it and be happy about it. I pull into the parking lot and turn the key in the ignition. It’s Christmas, damn it, and I’m getting my tree.

  Chris

  “Did you tell her to get on your lap?” I finish off the last beer from the 24-pack I’m sharing with the guys I work with and throw the bottle to the ground. It falls hard, but it doesn’t break. There must be three inches of snow on the ground by now, and none of us are going to shovel it. There aren’t going to be any more customers. Not this year. Anyone who wanted a tree already has one.

  “Fuck yes I did,” Josh says, stumbling onto his ass on a big pile of snow behind him. “I told her to lift that little red skirt and get on Santa’s lap and tell him what a good girl she’s been this year.”

  “Real nice, man,” Derek says sarcastically, picking up the bottles we’ve strewn among the trees. “Let’s pack it in. No one else is coming tonight. And I don’t think anyone’s coming tomorrow, either. Maybe one or two people, but everyone who wants a tree’s already got a tree.”

  I pick up a few bottles and throw them into the empty cardboard 24-pack. It’s been a long, boring day, with nothing to do but drink. At least it’s kept us warm.

  “Get off your ass Josh, and start hauling those trees over to the van. Shouldn’t take long,” Derek says, surveying the parking lot.

  He owns a small farm and nursery just over the state line in Connecticut, about thirty miles east. Every year for the holidays he brings his balsams and two types of fir trees here to sell. This is the first year I’ve joined his crew, and he and Josh are both good guys.

  I lift a 4-footer onto my back with ease and carry it out to the sidewalk where Derek has his van set up. The ground is coated with a few inches of fresh snow, and the asphalt beneath it is icy. It could be a dangerous combination, but we’re finished for the night.

  “Want me to throw down some rock salt, or you think it’ll just get covered up?” I ask Derek, tossing the tree into the back of the van.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll come out here early tomorrow and do it. Let’s leave a couple trees out in case someone wants to buy one last-minute tomorrow morning. You guys don’t have to come tomorrow.” Derek leans against his van and takes out his pack of cigarettes and a chrome lighter.

  Josh and I haul the last few trees out of the parking lot and into the van. The snow is really starting to come down now, and I silently curse myself for having those last few beers. I’m going to have to walk home. No way I’ll be able to get home in one piece if I drive.

  “Here, guys,” Derek says, taking out his wallet and counting out several twenty-dollar bills. “Thanks a lot for helping me out this year. I’d love to have you both on again next year.” He hands us about a hundred bucks each, which is appreciated but unnecessary.

  “You sure, man?” I say. “I mean, you were doing me the favor by giving me a way to make some cash.”

  “Absolutely. Consider it your Christmas bonus.” He stomps out his cigarette under his work boot and takes out his keys. “And keep in touch. Maybe if you’re available in the spring you can come work for me again when the weather gets warmer.”

  “Thanks so much, man,” I say, shaking his hand. Josh shakes hands with him too and Derek gets into his van. He’s got a drive ahead of him, about a half hour on a good day, but on a night like tonight it could easily take over an hour.

  He waves at us as loud music pumps out of his van. He mouths “get home safe” and inches away slowly, starting to pick up speed once he’s on the relative safety of the plowed road.

  “You doing anything tonight?” Josh asks me, counting out his cash and putting it in his pocket.

  “Probably just getting home,” I say, putting away my windfall and pulling my gloves and hat on. “You? You got anyone at home waiting for you?”

  Josh laughs and lights up a cigarette of his own. “No, not exactly.” He blows the
smoke up over his head, but the cloud he exhales is lost in the fresh bright snowflakes. “But I’m planning on bringing someone home, if you know what I mean.”

  “The girl in the little red skirt?” I ask.

  “Maybe,” he smirks. “Maybe not. Depends on how the mood strikes me. I’m going to a party across the river. Naughty or nice party. Let’s just say that most of these girls are pretty fucking naughty. You know the girl in the red skirt?”

  “Yeah,” I say, kicking the snow in front of me. “She sounds pretty naughty.”

  “I was expecting her to have on some red or black lace panties under her skirt, you know something that says she’s looking to fuck. Or maybe Santa’s face plastered right on her pussy. But you know what she had down there?”

  “What, man?” It’s been a long fucking time since I've seen a pair of wet red lace panties. “What’d this girl have on under her skirt?”

  “Nothing. She had on nothing. All I did was pull her into a bedroom, she pulled down my pants and sat down on my lap, and I could feel that wet pussy right there. It put me right into the holiday spirit.” He rolls the end of the cigarette around in his mouth.

  “Damn,” I say. “I haven’t been to a holiday party like that in a while. Not since college.”

  “You should come, man. You’d fucking love it. It would get your mind off whatever’s bothering you.” He stomps out his cigarette under a heavy, uneven foot. “Unless you got someone at home.”

  “No one at home except my old man, and we don’t do anything for Christmas.” I’ve tried not to let on that the holidays aren’t my favorite time of year, but Josh seems to have noticed. Never pegged him for the emotionally intelligent type.

  “So come with me. I have a girl in mind for you who you’d love. Long red hair, green eyes. Last year she wore this skin-tight emerald sequined dress that stopped right under her ass. You could see her thong when she bent down to pick up her Secret Santa gift from under the tree,” Josh says.

  “Not tonight, man. Maybe another time.” I take out my phone to grab his number. He’s a good guy, even though he might be a little crude.

  “Sorry miss,” Josh says to someone walking up to us, “not a lot of selection right now. You should have thought about buying a tree earlier. It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Oh, it’s okay! I’m just happy I caught you!” Her voice is frantic, but sweet and familiar, and as I look up from my phone, she stops dead in her tracks. “Chris?”

  It’s Jess. The girl I’ve been hung up on for over a year now, who I used to go on late evening drives with in her pickup, blasting music and singing our lungs out. Who I used to drive to the airport with and park at the end of the tarmac and lie in the bed of the truck beside her, watching the planes as they flew over us. That Jess.

  “Chris. That is you, right?” she asks again.

  “Yeah. Wow, Jess. I guess I just didn’t expect to see you back here.” I put my phone into my pocket as she throws her arms around my neck, nearly pouncing on me. She smells just like Christmas, and it’s something I haven’t been close to in awhile. It’s spicy and sweet, and fresh like pure snow and calm air.

  “I just got in this afternoon!” she says, pulling away from me, her hands on my arms. “It’s been a year, hasn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” I say, “a year.”

  “Where the hell are you manners?” Josh says, stepping next to me and putting out a hand to Jess. “I’m some random nobody. Would you like to purchase a Christmas tree? We have only the best trees in this part of the state, and I only hope we can find you a tree as beautiful as yourself.”

  “I’m Jess. It’s nice to meet you. You’re clearly a better salesman than Chris is.” She’s beaming with a bright smile, shining eyes and a dusting of pink across her cheeks and nose.

  “I just know a discerning customer when I see one,” Josh says. “How do you know my pal Chris here?”

  “It’s complicated,” I say without thinking. “I didn’t know you were coming home this year.”

  “Yeah,” she says, adjusting her scarf. “It was kind of a last-minute thing. You still living with your dad?”

  My breath rises and falls deep inside my chest. Now I’m glad I polished off those last few beers, and I wish I had another to dull the feeling stirring inside me. “So you’re here to buy a tree?”

  “Miss, right this way.” Josh guides her through the snow over to the two trees we have left on display. Jess looks back at me for a lifeline, but she looks away faster than I can figure out what I want to say to her next. I follow behind her and Josh, but I keep my distance.

  “You know procrastinating on something as important as a Christmas tree is a bad habit,” Josh says, slicing open the thin red plastic netting on each of the trees. “Lucky for you, we had these two sitting in the back, waiting for the ideal customer.”

  “I didn’t know tree farms held back their best merchandise.” She flashes her gorgeous, sweet smile to me and Josh. “Which one would you choose?” she asks, looking at me.

  “Well,” I say, stepping between her and Josh, reaching for the trunk of one of the trees. “This is your classic fir tree. This is what you think of when you think of an old-school tree. Dark green, wide at the base and coming up to a sharply tapered tip. Depending on the kinds of ornaments you want to hang, this is a good bet. Sturdy needles and branches.”

  “And this one is only thirty-five dollars,” Josh adds, “but for you, we can do a friends and family discount.”

  She looks the tree up and down, inspecting it from every angle. I reach for the trunk and lift it up, giving the base a good smack onto the pavement, sending the snow from its branches into the air, mixing with the snowflakes already falling.

  “It’s a good tree,” I say. “But we also have this one.” I set the fir down and lean it against the fence. “This other tree is a balsam. You’ll notice the branches are a little bit less sturdy, but the color of this tree is very pretty. Has a blue tint to it.”

  Jess takes her gaze off the tree and looks into my eyes. There’s something warm behind those eyes, and it gets into my core and makes me feel a little something deep inside. It’s a memory I can’t articulate. It’s something deep inside my bones.

  “Which one would you choose?” She reaches out to touch a branch on the balsam, running her fingers along its needles and looking over at Josh.

  “If you want my opinion, I like the fir. But it’s really just up to which one you like better. They’re both solid.” Josh brushes some snow off the front of the balsam. “Just depends on which one you like.”

  “I think I’ll go for the balsam,” she says, nodding with approval of her decision.

  “Do you need us to deliver it to your place?” Josh asks, pretending to be nonchalant, but I know he’s thinking about skipping the naughty or nice party and trying to have his own party with Jess. “You live alone? Private house? Apartment building? What floor do you live on? I can carry in to your place and set it up for you. No extra charge.”

  “I thought you had a party to go to tonight,” I say, hoisting Jess’ selected tree onto my back and carrying it over to where we pack them up in fresh netting.

  “I can skip the party.” Jess and Josh follow behind me as I go to send the tree through the netting machine.

  “You okay for me to leave you alone with this guy for a second?” I laugh, giving Josh a playful punch in the arm.

  “I’m just trying to be a good salesman.” Josh puts his hands up, one over his heart, and takes off his hat and puts it over his chest. “Scout’s honor. The deal isn’t really closed until the customer is totally satisfied.”

  I carefully hop up the stairs to the trailer where we have the cash register set up. I punch in the passcode and deposit two of the crumpled twenties from my bonus in the cash register to cover Jess’ tree. I look out the small, dirty window of the trailer down at Jess and Josh. She’s smiling the way she’s always done, and he keeps a respectful distance, even though I know
he’s trying to maneuver a way to get into bed with her. A wave of possessiveness sweeps through my chest, even though I have no claim over her anymore.

  “Let me get this to your truck,” I say, closing the door behind me and making my way down the slick metal stairs.

  Jess starts to unzip her purse, but I stop her. She and her family have done so much for me, and I want to treat her to a small part of a nice Christmas. Clearly if she’s here during dinner time on Christmas Eve, her family’s disappointed her by not getting a tree of their own.

  “No charge,” I say. “It’s on the house.”

  “I guess I have some competition,” Josh says, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re really spreading the Christmas cheer, man.”

  “It’s not a competition,” Jess says, pulling a five dollar bill out of her purse. “Thank you Josh, for showing the trees to me. You did a lovely job helping me come to a decision.”

  “You don’t have to be so official about it,” Josh laughs, taking the bill. “What do you say I take you out for a beer now that I’m flush with cash?”

  “Oh, I wish I could, but I have to get going. My family is at home waiting on me to bring some pastries.” She points to her truck, which is now dusted with a fresh layer of snow. “Some other time? Chris has your number, right?”

  “Yeah, Chris has my number,” Josh says, slightly dejected. But I’m happy on the inside that my ex isn’t getting some other guy’s number right in front of me. This might just be a good Christmas after all.

  After we say our goodbyes to Josh, Jess and I make our way over to her truck. By now the snow is starting to beat down more heavily, and road conditions are bound to be bad. I wish I could drive her truck home for her, and even though seeing her has started to sober me up, I just can’t do it.

  “You get the good stuff from Kaitlyn’s?” I ask, popping the tree into the bed of Jess’ pickup. It lands with a bounce on the snow starting to pile up back there, and I use my switchblade to cut a length of twine to make sure it’s tied down good and secure and ensure that she’ll be able to see out her back window.