by Avery James
Everyone everywhere believed the story. A not-so-small part of her wanted to believe it, too. On the occasions when she found herself believing it, she felt like she was living in a fairy tale. Over the past few weeks, she and Jack had told the fake story of their love so many times it was hard to remember that it was all a fabrication only barely based on facts.
That she and Jack met and fell in love while helping plan their friends' wedding was the official story. Things had been fun and flirty at first, and Charlotte didn't know who Jack was. That was close enough to the truth, but then the story of their courtship over the months preceding the wedding — the phone calls back and forth, the excuses to see each other — all of it was made up, building a ramp to the point where Jack could propose in time for election season. It had been two and a half weeks since her first date with Jack, a little over a month since she had agreed to go along with the marriage contract at Callie's wedding, and yet people believed that she and Jack had been together several months.
Then there was Jack. Charlotte didn't know what to think about him. He was wonderful and terrible, and he was a mystery. It was impossible to tell whether he liked her or hated her. They had fallen into a routine. She'd make an excuse for why he couldn't come see her at her apartment, and she'd meet him at his house. They'd go out, and for a few hours, they'd pretend they really were a couple. They'd sneak kisses and flirt with each other. They had inside jokes. They developed a kind of shorthand for talking to each other without letting anyone else know what was going on. It was dizzying. It was wonderful. And it was a lie.
Charlotte had to remind herself every time she started getting caught up in the moment. None of it was real. It was an act, and she and Jack were so convincing that she was starting to fool herself. He was especially good at it. Sure, she played along, but when they were out, he seemed intent on making her believe that they had something, that he had feelings for her. They'd be working opposite sides of a cocktail party, and she'd catch him, looking at her in one of those long, wistful across-the-room stares. As soon as he saw she was looking, he'd turn away again, and Charlotte couldn't help but wonder if the look in his eyes was genuine or if he was just amusing himself by toying with her.
More and more, however, he seemed to rely on her. One night, at a fundraiser for an international relief non-profit, Jack stopped mid-sentence and grabbed Charlotte's arm.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said.
Charlotte looked around quickly and tried to figure out what was going on. Waiters in black vests and heavily starched shirts walked around the room with trays of hors d'oeuvres. The men and women Charlotte had gotten so used to fooling carried on with their conversations. Nothing, save for Jack's "comment, seemed out of place.
"What?" Charlotte asked. "Is something wrong?"
"More like someone wrong," Jack replied. He nodded across the room at a tall, broad man with red, white and blue suspenders, a graying beard and a beer gut. "That's Greg Lapierre, an old opponent of my father's. His supporters call him Big Greg, and he's a long way from home. He's one of my two primary opponents, the one who's been calling me a playboy and a trust fund baby since day one. He would do anything to keep me from winning."
"That's the big-bad opponent who has you so worried? Jack, he looks like a teddy bear. No offense, but I expected someone a little more intense. He looks like the guy my father gets into arguments with at town meetings."
"For your information he's been a Republican and a Democrat and everything in between in his quest for power. Nothing's ever stuck, but he's tried every trick in the book along the way. He's as dirty as they come, and he'll do whatever it takes to undermine my campaign, and he saw me as soon as he walked in. He'll be itching to corner me, I just know it. Let's deal with this as quickly as possible. I'm going to go over and find out why he's here. Can you come over in a minute and tell me I have somewhere to be?"
"Of course," Charlotte said. She watched Jack cross the room and started counting to sixty in her head. She could see the look of annoyance on Jack's face as she approached the two men. Though he was smiling, Charlotte could tell he wanted to wring Greg's thick neck. She couldn't help but overhear them mid-conversation.
"Same thing you're doing, I suppose," Greg said. "I'm locking up support and donors for after I win the primary. There are some real heavyweights here tonight. You didn't think you'd have this crowd all to yourself, did you? Even these Washington types know how to bet on a winner. Speaking of Washington types, at some point you'll have to introduce me to that pretty girl of yours. I've heard you two are making quite the splash in your social scene."
"You think you know me," Jack said. "Trust me when I say you have no clue."
"A billionaire who likes to pretend he's normal just because he flies business class instead of using his daddy's private jet? Yeah, I think I know exactly who you are."
"What is it you want from me?" Jack asked, the muscles in his jaw straining as he gritted his teeth.
"Nothing at all," Greg said. As Charlotte drew closer, she could see Greg's cocky half grin. "I was just wondering what all these people here would think if they knew your little secret."
Charlotte felt like she had just fallen through the floor, and she wondered how it was possible for Greg to know about her arrangement with Jack.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack said.
"You know what I'm talking about," Greg said. "I'd hate for that pretty girlfriend of yours to find out what manner of man you are. Where is she tonight anyway?"
Charlotte forced herself to step forward and tapped Jack on the arm. "You're needed in the other room," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Charlotte, this is Greg Lapierre. Greg, this is Charlotte."
Greg held out a big, meaty palm. "Pleasure to meet you. Call me Big Greg, sweetheart."
Charlotte shook his hand for as brief a moment as possible. Jack took her other hand and led her across the room.
"What was that?" Charlotte asked. She couldn't understand how Big Greg could possibly know about their arrangement.
"Nothing," Jack said. "He's just trying to get into my head, trying to force something. He plays like he's an affable guy, but he's a snake looking for some weakness so he can strike. Come on, let's blow the rest of the night off and head home."
"But does he know about us?"
"No," Jack said. "He doesn't know anything. Let's head out. I hear the company is better on the sidewalk than it is in here."
He whisked Charlotte outside and soon she was lost in Jack's world, leaning against his shoulder as they wandered together. Charlotte wished that part of the night could last forever, the part where she and Jack didn't have to pretend, where they didn't have to meet and greet and all of that. She wished she could be alone with him and he'd be content just to be with her, but whenever the night ended, and the gallery closed, or the fundraiser was over, and she and Jack got back to his house, the truth was inescapable.
On that night, as soon as they were back inside, with the door safely between them and the world, Jack's manner changed. It wasn't the first time Charlotte had seen the warm I'd-hold-you-in-my-arms gaze that had charmed her on their first meeting harden into something cooler, like he just wanted to be left alone. Charlotte knew whatever Big Greg had said to Jack had gotten under his skin. When he saw Charlotte watching his face, he smiled politely to break his cold expression. Charlotte couldn't help but feel a little hurt, wishing he would just share how he felt.
She knew she would be welcome to stay in the guest room again if she wanted, but she decided it might be best for both of them this time if she spent the night at home.
"Let me drive you. I have a surprise for you. I was going to tell you earlier but the whole thing with Big Greg threw me off," he said as he led Charlotte outside. "Tomorrow night. I think you're going to like it. At least I hope you will."
"Another fundraiser?" she asked.
"Better than that."
Jack laughed and shook his head. "I don't want to give you the wrong idea. It's something a little less… grand." Jack had a gleam in his eye, like there was something he wasn't telling her.
"What is it?" Charlotte playfully punched him on the arm.
"I can't tell you. That would ruin the surprise."
"Can you at least tell me what I need to wear or who I'll need to impress?" Jack always found a way to brief her before an event, whether it was with an informal rundown of his goals for the night or a detailed set of instructions on who to charm and who to avoid.
"Wear whatever you'd like, and you won't need to impress anyone for once."
"Really?" Charlotte asked. "Are you giving me a night off?"
"Something like that," Jack said. "I'll explain the rest over dinner. But that's all tomorrow. Tonight, I've got to get you home. I still don't even know what your place looks like."
"When you see it, just keep your comments to yourself."
"What could I possibly say?"
"You live in a mansion. I'm clinging to a lease for a tiny apartment. If you really have to ask…"
"You know I don't care about that, right? Money is money." Jack looked back at the mansion. "I did nothing to deserve this house. I was born into privilege. I'd trade it all in a minute for a chance at a normal life."
"You could do that any time you want," Charlotte said, "and then maybe you wouldn't have to bribe me to spend time with you."
"So if I were broke, you'd be interested in me?" Jack asked. He shook his head. "I wish I had known."
Charlotte laughed. Was he serious? Had she not worn how much she loved kissing him on her sleeve? She would have kissed him as soon as they left the fundraiser if it hadn't been for the sudden change in Jack's mood. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Forget it, ok?" Jack said. He fished through his pocket for his keys. "Come on, let's go."
By the time they reached her building, Charlotte didn't know what to think. Jack hadn't said a word the whole ride, and then they sat there in silence, illegally parked.
"Don't I get a kiss goodnight?" Charlotte asked, hoping to lighten the awkwardness.
"What is your deal tonight?"
"What's my deal?" Charlotte replied. "You're the one who kisses me one night and ignores me the next."
"It would help if I had any idea what you want," Jack said.
"Me?" Charlotte exclaimed. "You want to know what I want? What about you, Mr. I-Don't-Want-a-Relationship?" She had felt torn over this for weeks, and now he wanted to blame all this tension on her? She wasn't about to let him do that.
"I'd like to walk you to your door, I'd like to kiss you goodnight, and I'd like to know if this is all business with you or not. Because I—" He looked at her with a pained expression as he cut himself off.
Charlotte felt a hollow ache deep in her chest. She hadn't considered that he might be struggling as much as she was with where the line was drawn in their relationship. She had been the one to step on the brakes the first night she'd slept over, but he was the one who was always talking about how he wouldn't fall in love. Was he starting to break his own rule? Did he care about her?
"Let's talk about this stuff tomorrow, ok?" she said. "Just don't worry about it for the rest of tonight."
"And what do you expect me to do now?" Jack asked.
Charlotte reached over to gently touch Jack's cheek. He cared about her. It wasn't the realization she had expected from this car ride, but the more she thought about it, the more relieved she was.
"Walk me to my door, for starters," she said.
"And that goodnight kiss?" he asked.
Charlotte smiled. "If we walk slowly, we've got a whole bunch of time to figure it out."
Chapter 9
Jack's secretary called shortly before noon with details of the dinner reservation for that night. Jack had chosen Boulevard, the little bistro she had told him about on their first date. She hadn't even mentioned it by name, and never would have guessed that he had remembered it. Jack sent a car to pick her up just after six thirty.
When she got to the restaurant, Jack was already waiting. He met her at the door and gave her a long hug. That light was in his eyes, and for the first time she didn't feel like she had to pretend that he really did like her. After they sat down and ordered, Charlotte teased Jack about his suit.
"What a bold shade of bleu," she said. "Isn't that what the French ambassador called it last week?"
"I think he was more interested in you than he was in the suit," Jack said.
"Oh, please." Charlotte slapped his hand lightly, as if she were scolding him.
Jack caught her hand and held it, smiling back at her. "Maybe I'll wear something wild, like a charcoal gray."
"You rebel."
"It's getting a bit late in the year for seersucker, but maybe I could give that a shot."
"If you're going out on a limb, maybe you'd like to try one of the many dresses you've made me buy."
"I don't know," Jack said. "I don't like what they do to my hips."
Charlotte laughed and shook her head. Everything felt like a real date, like they were a real couple, not two people bound by a contract.
This is what you signed up for, Charlotte reminded herself.
She knew that even if she and Jack were getting along well now, they wouldn't have a real relationship. Even if he had feelings toward her, even if she was spending more and more time thinking about him, he had told her early on that he would be an awful husband. He enjoyed her company and he liked the reaction he got out of her when he kissed her in public.
That's all, she told herself.
"Thank you," Charlotte said shortly after they had finished eating. "I know you don't get much down time, and I know you have a thousand other things you need to do, but thank you for tonight."
"Thank you for what?" Jack asked.
"For doing this with me. I know this night probably doesn't fit in with your agenda as you get ready to start campaigning, but it really means a lot to me that you were willing to go to these lengths to make me happy. It was a wonderful surprise."
Jack reached across the table and held her hand again. "Of course," he said. "I'd do anything for you. I want you to know that."
"Come on, you don't have to..." she trailed off as Jack pulled a box out of his pocket and flipped it open, holding an engagement ring up before her.
"Oh my God," Charlotte whispered. She watched the light glint off the enormous diamond, and she tried to remind herself that this wasn't real but her heart raced and she felt dizzy and she struggled to think of how she should react.
"Charlotte, I know we haven't been together for very long, but I don't want to waste another day without telling you how I feel. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else but you. Will you marry me?"
Charlotte tried to hold her composure. This is all an act, she told herself.
"Yes," she said. "Jack, it's beautiful."
"It was my grandmother's," he said. "I wanted you to have it." He motioned to the waiter, who brought over a bottle of champagne.
Jack slid the ring onto Charlotte's finger.
"It's too much," she said. She locked her eyes onto his. "It's really too much, Jack."
Jack leaned in again, "Don't worry about it, ok?"
"I just, I don't know what to say."
"You already said yes," Jack said quickly. "What do you say we head home to celebrate?" He whispered, "After all, the happy couple should be celebrating, right?" He held her hand and smiled at her in the candlelight.
Charlotte bided her time until the end of the date. She just wanted to run outside into the night air and take a deep, long breath. She felt that if she could get a minute to herself, she could process everything and be fine. The check couldn't come quickly enough.
As soon as they left the restaurant and got in Jack's car, Charlotte pulled the ring off and handed it to him. "
I can't let you do this," she said. "This was your grandmother's ring. I can't wear your grandmother's ring for a fake marriage. I'm sure this wasn't what she had in mind when she left it for you. It just feels wrong."
"I told you not to worry about it. My grandmother was married three times. This is from her second marriage. It lasted eighteen months. I thought you'd appreciate the parallel. It's not like this was the only one she left me."
"What?" Charlotte asked. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Let's just say that she'd appreciate the humor in it. When my grandmother died, my sister was already married, and my brother... well, you'll find out about him soon enough. So the rings came to me. Her last piece of advice to me was 'marry well, marry often.'"
Charlotte laughed. "Sounds like she had quite the sense of humor."
"She did," Jack said. "I want you to keep that ring, no matter what happens at the end of our contract. It will be something you can remember me by."
Charlotte examined the large center stone. She didn't want to remember Jack by anything. She wanted to believe that things would work out between them. "It looks like it would be a pretty good retirement fund, too."
"Or that," Jack said with a laugh. He pulled the car up his driveway and into the garage. After he cut the engine, he turned to her. "Will you come in?"
"Of course," Charlotte said. "I wouldn't want anyone to worry that something was amiss. I'll make sure they get a good shot of us holding hands as we head inside."
She checked her phone and tried to see what time it was. Half past ten. She'd probably hang around for an hour or so while Jack ignored her. She wondered if Callie and Amy already knew that Jack had proposed, then realized they had probably arranged the plan on his behalf.
"There aren't any cameras," Jack said. "And, I didn't tell anyone that I was proposing to you tonight. I'm asking you if you'd like to come inside with me. If not, I can bring you home. We can worry about the engagement stuff tomorrow." He placed his hand over hers. "Either way, I had a great time tonight. I want you to know that before campaigning and everything else make us both crazy."
