by Claire Adams
He glanced at me. “So I’ve heard.”
He opened the passenger car door for me and left without closing it. I stretched and grabbed the handle and closed it myself.
“Well, you can’t propose to me at a hibachi dinner,” I said. Nerves were rubbing in my stomach, despite knowing that it was all fake. Still, a part of me was excited and almost happy.
“The entire floor is rented out,” he said. “We can try and make it look fancy in the pictures at least.”
“Did you tell your mom about this?” I asked. “Where the dinner’s at, at least?”
“She said to make it a surprise,” he said. I nodded; that explained the weird location. I smiled as I watched him drive. Despite having billions of dollars, it would have been impossible to tell that Gavin was anything more than a middle-class momma’s boy. He wore the same suits often, never matched any of his clothes, didn’t utilize his giant mansion to its full potential, and drove cars that the average person didn’t exactly lust over.
I glanced at his golden watch, a brand that was probably only a thousand dollars at most. There were men far less rich than he who wore million-dollar watches. And I had flirted with plenty of them.
We arrived at the restaurant shortly afterward, with him opening my door and closing it behind me this time. I slipped an arm through his elbow, laughing to myself as he tensed.
“Remember to look surprised, after the dinner,” he said. “I have a professional photographer coming to shoot us.”
“Should I ask in what way?” I asked. Gavin frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Never mind the bad joke. Sorry.” A host led us to the only hibachi grill that was on, and I was thankful that our table was a classic two-seater marble table with a hibachi attached to the left side. The host pulled out my seat as Gavin took his, and we faced one another as the chef started cooking beside us.
“I’ll be honest,” I said as our waiter poured each of us a glass of wine. “This is a lot fancier than I expected.”
The restaurant itself was a dim room with at least six giant hibachi grills, and a giant aquarium lining the black and gold themed walls.
“Two cups of sake, please,” Gavin asked the waiter and turned to me. “What, did you expect me to propose to you at some random one-star Japanese restaurant where the meat source is suspicious? I do have some standards.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I did sort of misjudge you a little.” I took a sip of wine as the chef started a little show on the grill. He grilled vegetables and chopped up several chunks of chicken while adding in a scrambled egg and white rice.
“My father loved hibachi grills,” Gavin said as we watched the show. “He never spent much money on himself, only on us, but the only thing he ever wanted on his birthday was dinner at a hibachi restaurant. So, Mom would make it happen for him every year. He’d get the fried rice, chicken tempura, sushi, grilled beef, anything on the menu.”
Our waiter returned with two small ceramic cups of sake. “And always washed it down with sake.”
I sniffed it. “I’ve had it a few times at parties,” I said. “But never at a proper restaurant.”
“Sake with a side of chicken tempura was Dad’s favorite,” Gavin said and held his cup to mine. “A toast, maybe?”
I clinked mine with his.
“To your father,” I said. “It sounds like he was a wonderful man.”
“He really was.” Gavin smiled and took a long sip. The flavor was light and mild on my tongue, a stark contrast to the strong and bitter taste of my wine. “Mom worshiped the man. Even when he was off for months at a time on business trips, she didn’t look at another person. They were in love.”
“Sounds like my parents,” I said. Our chef placed two plates full of fried rice in front of us. We both broke our chopsticks open and dug in. “They could be homeless, living on the streets, but would still be happy as long as they had each other.”
“I guess both of our parents gave us impossible standards to live up to, huh?” he asked.
“I always thought it was naive,” I admitted. “Hoping for a love like theirs. Or even having one. They’ve given up so many better opportunities for our lives because they didn’t want to be apart.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“My father was offered a position at one of his old jobs that paid a six-figure salary,” I said. “But it was in another state, one where my mom wouldn’t be able to transfer her work for another two years. At the time, I was 15 and working at a grocery store. I think it was illegal how many hours I worked, and because I was always there, my grades were awful. I had to quit soccer because of it, and couldn’t even buy school lunch because all of my money was going toward their bills. But,” I took another long gulp of wine. “He didn’t take it because they weren’t okay with being two states apart for two years.”
“Did you pay for your college?” he asked. I shook my head.
“I have enough student loans that even with your money, I’ll probably barely make a dent,” I said.
He leaned against his chair. “Two different types of love,” he said. “I guess we’re trying to find a good balance in between.”
“You can try,” I said, feeling the effects of both the wine and sake. “I’m pretty sure I’m done looking. If anything, love is waiting for me in Hollywood in the form of a movie script.”
Gavin laughed. “And my love is waiting for me in the form of a book deal,” he said.
“You’re writing again?” I asked and leaned forward. “You have to let me read it.”
“If you can promise to be honest with your feedback, sure,” he said. We finished our fried rice, and the chef began grilling shrimp and seasoned beef. He gave me one to try, and I offered a thumbs up.
“Let’s both go to Hollywood,” I said, a little surprised at my outburst. It seemed liquid courage was backing me up. “I’ll get a movie deal, and you get a book deal, and we’ll be happy in our own little world with our own type of love.”
For a split second, it seemed that Gavin was going to agree. His eyes lit up, lips curved into a smile, and he drank his sake. But then he realized something and pulled out a box in his pocket.
He was thinking about his mother, I realized.
“Before I can be happy with anything,” he said, “I have to make sure someone else is happy.”
“Do you want to wait for the photographer?” I asked, glancing around the restaurant.
“He’ll get pictures during dessert,” Gavin said and pulled out a diamond ring from the box. I held back a gasp. It was huge, at least several karats, and bounced off rays of light as the light fixtures on the ceiling caught the sharp edges. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, certainly not Gavin to go down on one knee, but I definitely didn’t expect him to toss the ring on the table in between us.
“Put it on,” he said. “For the pictures, and for the wedding, but you don’t have to wear it any other time.”
It was the least romantic moment of my life, but there was a spark inside me that I couldn’t ignore. Even as I grabbed the diamond ring from the table and slipped it onto my own finger, I still felt the tiniest bit happy.
The rest of our dinner was served, and finally a matcha bean cake for dessert. A photographer arrived and began snapping pictures of us at the table. It wasn’t very difficult to force a smile on my face, and even Gavin’s looked more natural than I would have expected.
I took a picture of both of us with the ring in between and posted it on my social media accounts.
“There,” Gavin said as we finished up. “Proposal night went off without a hitch.”
“Now for a weekend wedding,” I said as we walked back to his car. I couldn’t stop staring at the ring on my finger.
“You don’t have to keep wearing it,” he said. I nodded and slipped it into my purse. I didn’t want to make things any weirder than they already were.
“We’ll have dinner with my mother tomorrow to celebrate,” he said as we arriv
ed at my apartment. It didn’t seem as if he was going to walk me to my door. “And then start planning the wedding.”
“It’ll be a fake license, right?” I asked. “How are you getting a clergy to sign off on a fake wedding?”
“You’d be surprised at what people will do for money,” he said and glanced at me. “Then again, maybe you wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Low blow,” I said and left the car. “Good night, Gavin; thanks for the fake proposal.”
His head ducked until I could see him through the passenger side window.
“Thanks for the fake acceptance,” he said and drove off.
I walked back to my apartment and closed the door behind me. I glanced at the alarm system and reminded myself to call in the morning and activate it, although I wouldn’t send Gavin any proof. I didn’t need anything more from him.
I sat at the small breakfast table and dug through my purse until my fingers found the rounded metal of a ring. The diamond ring fell in front of me, and I slipped it onto my finger and stared at it.
Gavin was insane if he thought I wasn’t going to wear it every chance I got.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gavin
I spent double the amount of time at the gym than I normally did. I pushed myself harder than before, risking a torn muscle, and ran cardio for nearly an hour by the time I hopped off of the treadmill and into the shower. My phone continued to ring throughout it all, but I ignored it.
I already knew it was Ron freaking out over the big news. I hadn’t even given him a head’s up, not to mention he was well aware that Maddie and I had only been going out for a short amount of time. I didn’t want to answer his questions or tell him about the dinner, so I continued to ignore his calls and focused on cleaning myself in the shower.
There was something that was keeping my nerves on edge. I felt like throwing up, a sort of nausea that was in the pit of my stomach and would flare up into my throat if I dwelled on it too long. What was wrong with me? Why was I the one freaking out? Maddie seemed excited at the thought of a fake wedding so soon, but then again, I supposed I had learned not to be surprised by anything she did.
But even though everything about this was fake, I still wanted to shove my fist in my mouth, bite down, and scream. And what was more concerning was the fact that my feelings were leaning more toward excitement and giddiness than sorrow and worry.
Maddie would be coming over to the house before the dinner, and a part of me was looking forward to seeing her. There was something about sharing a secret with someone else that bring you closer to them. I told myself that that’s all it was: a mutual secret. Not the blooming of a romance.
I shook my head. There would never be romance between us; she made sure of that the minute she said she had an offer. And I set that fact in stone the minute I accepted her offer.
I glanced at my phone after getting out of the shower. Ron had messaged me several times, urging to call him back. He wanted details, but not too detailed, about our dinner. I was worried that I was going to have to convince him that the proposal was real and not too sudden, but it didn’t seem as if I’d have to worry about it.
Ron was the kind of sucker that believed in true love, and all I’d have to say was that Maddie and I were in love. I almost felt bad for him.
My office was cold as I took a seat at the desk and opened my laptop. The first three chapters were written, and I set an alarm on my phone for two hours. I wanted to finish at least another two chapters before dinner, which shouldn’t take very long. The words flowed onto the laptop at record time, and it helped ease my nerves and the minutes passed.
I looked at the time, almost 5:30. Maddie would be arriving within the next half hour, and I realized that I was still in my pajama pants with a naked torso. I stood to get changed just as the doorbell rang, followed by Maddie inviting herself inside and calling my name from the living room.
“I’ll be right there!” I yelled as I hurried to my room. Maddie was standing at the top of the stairs, her eyes locked on my chest. A blush crept up her neck and over her cheeks, but she didn’t tear her eyes away. “I’m running a little late.”
“I can see that,” she said with a smile and followed me to my room.
“That wasn’t an invitation,” I said. “We have to get to my mother’s house for dinner.”
I walked into my closet and began putting on a suit. She waited just outside the door, her voice floating through the wall as she teased me.
“I don’t know what’s on your mind,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”
“And are you?” I asked. “Are you wearing the ring?”
She hesitated a moment before answering.
“I’m wearing it.”
“Good,” I said and wrapped Mom’s favorite gray tie around my neck. Maddie met me outside the closet in a white dress covered with flowers.
“You look good,” I said. She did a small twirl that revealed her defined legs and tanned upper thighs, and I focused my attention elsewhere. We had to get through this dinner, I reminded myself. I had to have a dinner celebrating my engagement with this woman. The woman who had used my mom’s diagnosis for her own payday. I kept reminding myself of it, but I wasn’t sure why.
“Let’s keep this dinner only about the upcoming wedding, okay?” I said as she followed me down the stairs. “Nothing about the future.”
“Well, what about the three kids we’re going to have?” she asked innocently. I groaned. “And their names? Little Tiffany, Sweet Sierra, and,” she pressed the tip of her finger to her chin and tilted her head. “Spoiled Catelyn.”
“Three girls?” I asked and turned toward her. “Wait, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you dare bring anything up about children.”
“And if she asks?” She poured herself a half serving of wine. It seemed even Maddie was nervous about the dinner. “Shouldn’t we be on the same page about these things?”
“Fine,” I took a seat beside her and poured myself a shot of whiskey. I was going to need it. “One kid. We want a boy, and we want to name him Ralph.”
“Ralph?” She sipped on her wine. “Why Ralph? That’s an awful name.”
“He was my uncle,” I said. “I was close to him.”
“I would have suggested Charlie,” she said in a soft tone. I glanced at her. She had known my father, and we both knew that the name was for him.
“Maybe two boys then,” I said.
“Two boys,” she agreed as we both finished our drinks. “I think we’re ready for this dinner.”
I pushed myself off the chair and left my house, with Maddie’s clammy hand held in mine as we met my mother for our celebratory dinner.
As expected, the moment we arrived at Mom’s and she saw the giant, diamond ring on Maddie’s finger, it was nonstop wedding talk. Mom pressed a kiss on both of Maddie’s cheeks before even acknowledging me, and grabbed her hand and ushered her to take a seat at the dining table.
The food set on the table was a feast for an entire family, plus more, with two plates of grilled salmon on top of roasted vegetables, a bowl full of baked potatoes, and a long loaf of bread that had been pulled out of the oven as we sat. It was flaky and crispy outside and moist inside, and I dipped a piece into a small dish of balsamic vinegar and oil. I hadn’t touched the glass of whiskey set beside my plate until Mom turned toward me and asked about the wedding.
“Have you thought about your cake?” she asked. I took a sip.
“Isn’t that usually for the bride to decide?” I asked. Mom smiled and raised an eyebrow toward Maddie. Every other word out of Maddie’s mouth brought an even wider smile to my mom’s, and I tried remembering the last time I’d seen her smile as much. It had been a while, I realized.
“I’m partial to anything peanut butter,” Maddie said. “Nancie didn’t allow it at the apartment, too high in calories, but I could eat only peanut butter for the rest of my life and be in bliss.”
“Gav
in gave me a peanut butter protein powder once,” Mom said. “I didn’t like it.”
“I’m sure a peanut butter cake would taste much better than a powder,” I said and turned to Maddie. “But really? A peanut butter wedding cake?”
She shrugged. “You knew this wasn’t going to be the most conventional wedding,” she said.
I nodded. “I’ll call local bakeries then, and see if any of them can make a peanut butter cake for this weekend.” It still hadn’t dawned on me that our wedding was just a few days away. I supposed with enough money it was useless to worry about anything.
“That would make me the happiest blushing bride,” Maddie said. She leaned her head toward Mom and whispered a few words that resulted in a soft laugh from them both. I tried imagining Maddie in a wedding dress, a blush over her cheeks, a glass of champagne in her hand. I imagined her with the smile of a woman who was marrying the love of her life, a man who would promise to love her the rest of his, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine her looking at me with such a smile. Was what we were about to do wrong? Was I ruining something for her? Would she still get to experience to joy of marrying the man of her dreams even after a fake wedding?
Maddie was beautiful beyond words, even as she made conversation with a woman much older than her. They didn’t have much in common, but Maddie still held her own. There was a glow to her skin that I hadn’t noticed before, like the natural shine of someone after a day out in the sun. She drank her wine and twirled a strand of hair in her finger and gestured in my direction after making a joke, most likely at my own expense, and they both broke out in laughter.
I was being silly. Of course, Maddie would still get the day of her life, and it’ll be even richer and grander than ours because it’d be real. There was no reason to worry about her happiness. She’d be fine.
But I wasn’t sure if I could say the same thing about me. This wedding, as fake as it would be, would most likely be the only wedding I’d have. And it wasn’t for lack of trying or motivation; the right woman, one who wasn’t interested in publicity or money or fame, was difficult to find.
