by Frankie Love
I don’t want to pause too long on his words, give him any reason to doubt me. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If I tell him that I have a daughter—among other things—he won’t give me this job. Besides, no one is seriously going to look into my past—or even my present. That stuff only happens in the movies.
I want this money. I need it. What I don’t need is to dredge up an ugly past that would cost me this job. So I’ll just have to win his brother over so he doesn’t start looking into my past.
I smile, realizing that I’m finally catching a break. And even though this job is straight up deceitful … it’s his relationship with his parents, not mine. All I need to do is smile and keep my mouth shut for one single week.
And then I can give Sophia the life I always dreamed of for her.
“So,” I say. “Looks like I’ll need an engagement ring.”
“Morning, sweet pea,” I say, sitting on the edge of our bed, waking Sophia up from her slumber.
“Morning, Mama,” she says, snuggling deeper into the blankets.
I always hear these horror stories of children waking up at the crack of dawn, but that’s never been my Sophia. She sleeps hard and long.
“You gotta get up and get ready for school.” I kiss her soft cheek. “I brought you a special breakfast. It’s in the kitchen and you can have it once you’re dressed and your teeth are brushed.”
That gets her upright. “Is it my favorite?” she asks.
“You’ll have to wait and see.” I raise my eyebrows, teasing her. “Hustle, okay, so I can braid your hair.”
Sophia is a mini-me. She doesn’t take after her father, not a lick. She has my narrow frame, cornsilk-blonde hair, and bright green eyes. But she also has a hopefulness, a curiosity and wonder about her that I lost a long time ago.
“Okay, Mama.” She kisses me and I wrap my arms around her, squeezing tight.
I told Landon yes to the job when I left his suite, and I came up with a solid lie for my mom on my way back to the condo. The money isn’t something I can walk away from, but I don’t know if every one else will understand.
Lying to Landon’s family isn’t the hard part for me ... lying to Mom and Sophia is a little trickier.
Also, I’ll have to be apart from my little girl. The job will be over a week, when I factor in travel times, and we’ve never been apart for longer than one day.
But this isn’t about the lie right now, this is about our forever.
When Sophia heads to the bathroom, I make my way into the kitchen where Mom is pouring us coffee.
“No, thanks,” I tell her, sitting on a barstool at the island. “I had enough this morning.”
“You’ve been up for awhile?” she asks, adding cream to her mug.
“You know me. I’m an early riser.” I reach into my purse and pull out a to-go bag. “I brought donuts from the hotel.”
“So you stayed at Emmy’s last night?” Mom asks.
I immediately feel heat on my cheeks. One thing about being blonde and fair-skinned is that my face constantly betrayed me.
“What aren’t you saying, Claire?” Mom asks, leaning on the island counter.
“Mom, don’t be awkward. Of course I was with Emmy and Tess.”
Mom raises her hands in defeat. “Okay, honey, I’ll mind my own business. I take it the night was ho-hum, then—no man asked you out and swept you off your feet?”
“I don’t believe in getting swept off my feet for one, and two, Sophia is down the hall. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”
“I don’t think you falling in love is the worst idea, Claire.”
“Love? Nobody is talking about love.” I scoff, remembering my exchange earlier with Landon, when he admitted he is a jaded pessimist. Knowing that I am too.
“Okay, so you didn’t fall in love. What did you girls do?”
Knowing Sophia would walk in the room any moment, but also wanting to tell Mom about the job, I talk a hyper-speed.
“Okay,” I tell her. “Dinner was fine. But what happened next is a little crazy. While we were at the hotel, I was offered a one-week trip to England.”
“What?” Mom asks, confused.
I fill her in on who Landon is—not the we-had-sex part, the friend of Ace’s part. “He needs to go home for work, his father owns The King’s Diamond—very fancy stuff—and he needs a plus one at the events. He asked if I wanted to go. Not like as his date,” I clarify, “but as his friend.” I wave my hand in the air, hoping it sounds plausible.
She tilts her head to the side, trying to absorb the information.
“It’s just for one week,” I explain. “But he leaves tomorrow.”
“And is your boss okay with you going?
“Ace is fine with it,” I say, embellishing. “What do you think?”
“I think it seems a little too good to be true. But you’ve wanted to go there your whole life, Claire.” Mom pats my hand, knowing that so much of my life didn’t turn out how I hoped. “Sophia will be fine with me. You deserve to have fun. To smile. I miss that.”
Just then Sophia walks in, dressed for the day, with a hairbrush and hair tie in hand. “Was I right?” she asks, a bright smile crossing her dimpled cheek. “Donuts?”
“You betcha.” I kiss the top of her head as I help her onto the stool beside me. She reaches in and finds her favorite pink frosting and sprinkled cake confection.
She starts eating, licking her fingers with each bite.
“So you’d be leaving tomorrow?” Mom asks discreetly, turning to get Sophia a glass of orange juice.
After she hands it to her, I pivot Sophia on the stool and start dividing her hair for a side-part fishtail braid. I’ve perfected the look, which is both adorable and functional. Sophia detests hair in her face when she plays at recess.
“Yeah, I’m not sure what time yet. Does leaving,” I point to Sophia’s head, “make me an awful person?”
“You’re not an awful person, Mama,” Sophia says with her mouth full of donut.
“No, your Mama is a perfect person. And she deserves to be happy. To smile. And she gets to go on a vacation with her friend.”
I breathe a huge sigh of relief at her words. My mom is able to make me leaving as un-dramatic as possible, and I appreciate it. I was about to make it this huge ordeal that neither of us would recover from.
“Mama doesn’t have friends,” Sophia says, laughing. “She just has us.”
I finish the braid and pat the top of her head, trying to not let her words hit me too hard in the chest. Mom watches me sadly, probably able to use X-ray vision to see the lump that seems to have formed in my throat, the tears insisting on springing to my eyes. She’s mentioned plenty of times that I’m too protective, too private. That I need to bring my friends around and let them into my life.
The thing is, if I let people in, they might hurt me. And I don’t want that, I don’t think I can even handle that. Not after everything with Sophia’s dad.
So I keep people at arm’s length. That way no one can hurt Sophia or me.
But it seems that if I’m going to do this job, Landon and I might end up getting a lot more personal than I’m used to.
The paycheck would make it worth it. And still, I can get personal without telling him about my daughter.
“Well,” I tell Sophia. “I think I do have a new friend. And Gram is right, I’m going on a trip with him.”
“Good,” Sophia says, patting my arm. “Mrs. Nightingale says having friends help us share and practice being nice, and makes our lives better.”
“Sounds like your teacher is pretty smart,” my mom says. “And it looks like your mom’s trip will help her learn all sorts of things.”
Looking at the clock on the microwave, I realize it’s time to go. My mom hands me the already assembled school snack. I get the backpack. Sophia finds her windbreaker. All three of us head for the door.
We are a unit, a family that works together, seamlessly. My li
fe wouldn’t work without the two of them, and I think that us being here has kept my mom happy since my dad died.
Sophia runs out the door, and I pause before following.
“You’ll be okay for a week with Sophia?” I ask.
“Honey, I think you need to remember what it means to have a friend.”
“Landon isn’t a friend-friend. He just needs my help.”
“Call it what you like, but he’s offered you a trip to the place you’ve wanted to go your entire life. Remember those waltz lessons and those embroidered pillows you used to make? Our whole house was filled with them. Go play, be happy.”
I help Sophia buckle up in her booster seat, and then I get in the car and leave the condo parking lot. Looking in the rearview mirror, I watch Sophia.
Leaving her will be hard, but maybe Mom is right. Maybe it’s time I learn how to live.
Landon
After Claire leaves the suite I feel like the fucking King I know I can be. The King I want to be. No one in my family expects shit from me, but just this once I’m going to show up and prove them all wrong.
I may be a cocky prick, but I’m not going down without a fight. Geoffrey thinks he can take this company because he’s plays the part of a fucking puppet to our father? Well, just wait until I show up, and start fighting for something I never knew I wanted.
The hardest part about this trip will be the distraction that Claire is. But thankfully she doesn’t seem as timid as she was last night. This morning, before the job opportunity flashed through my mind, we had amazing sex again.
And I intend to have more of it. Hell, she is my fiancée, after all.
Of course there will be no requirements on sex this week. She can do what she wants with her body—but now that she’s tasted me, felt me, been filled by me, no way in hell will she deny me.
After falling back asleep for several hours—because that woman woke me at an ungodly hour—I shower. Then I pull out my laptop, ready to book the tickets. Before I click purchase, I realize I should confirm with Claire that she is 100% in on this.
“Hello,” she says on the third ring. Her voice seems distracted, but I don’t ask questions. I may be taking her home as my bride-to-be, but we aren’t exactly old chums. Asking about her emotional well-being seems a bit … I don’t know, intimate.
“It’s Landon. I wanted to be sure you were one hundred percent committed before I bought the tickets. I don’t want to ... presume.”
“You don’t want to presume that I’m the sort of girl who likes to cheat and lie to people’s parents in an effort to make lots of money?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, don’t worry about my moral code. I’m all in.” I hear music playing that reminds me of an old Disney movie, and I swear a child is crying.
“Fantastic,” I tell her. “Is everything all right? It seems loud?”
“No, it’s fine. Just busy. Running errands. So when do we leave?” she asks. “I need to get my ducks in a row.”
I smile, knowing phrases like ducks in a row is the exact reason I am taking her home, and not some flighty girl.
“Tomorrow,” I say, checking my computer screen for the flight times. “Ten in the morning. I’ll send a car around; just text me your address.”
“Okay. So I’ll just pack and ... I don’t actually know what I should pack. Is it like a jeans and sweater weekend or like ... actually, that’s basically all I have.”
“You know what,” I tell her, grimacing at the thought of her at the Hertfordshire estate in those worn boots. “Why don’t you swing back round to the hotel and get a credit card from me to purchase some new items for your wardrobe. Less shabby chic and more ... I don’t know ... Princess Kate.”
“This is starting to feel like Pretty Woman or something.” She half-laughs, then whispers into the phone as if she doesn’t want someone to overhear. “Just to be clear, there was no sex involved in the job offer.”
“Of course not—but, you know, it isn’t off the table.”
“Just not included in the handling fees.”
“Exactly,” I tell her. “Any sex had will not be a part of the job. It will be only for pleasure.”
“I think you should maybe hold off on the sexpectations a bit. For me, this really is a job. Sex is not the priority. Getting your family to believe we are a couple is.”
“What, you don’t want to sleep with me again?” I ask her, a bit surprised. Claire’s hard to read. Sometimes she seems all in, and other times ... it’s like her mind is somewhere else entirely. In all honesty, I’m not used to this reaction from a woman. Most women are dying to have my full attention.
“Fuck. Shit. Sorry, I have to go. I’ll call you back,” she says. The call ends and I stare at my phone confused. What the hell is going on with her?
What the hell is going on with her?
Then I shrug it off—not my business—and go back to my computer screen to book the tickets.
Chapter Ten
Claire
After kindergarten drop-off I come home, do laundry, clean the condo, and sit online paying bills. The three hours zoom by and the next thing I know I’m picking Sophia up from her half day.
Standing outside the classroom with the other kinder-moms, I can’t help but notice how different we are. They hold to-go cups of coffee, and with their hair pulled back they show off giant diamond earrings. I always notice details like this—but today I realize that if all goes perfectly with Landon’s family, in a week I could be like them.
I could be wearing cute yoga pants, having just returned from a workout and coffee date. I could be stress-free and smiling. Not looking frazzled, still unshowered, and hungry, like I am most days. Like I am right now.
“Hi—it’s Claire, right?” asks a woman I’ve run into a few times at pick-up.
“Yeah, that’s right. And you’re JoJo, Hardy’s aunt, right?”
JoJo is super in shape and super gorgeous, with flaming red hair.
“Yep,” she says. “I help my sister with him as much as I can. She’s a solo parent, and I’m glad I can help.”
“That’s awesome. I’m a single mom, too.” I blink, wondering why the hell I can tell this stranger the state of my family affairs, but not my best friends.
“Well, I don’t know how often you can get out, but a group of my friends and I are going to a show at Spades Royalle in a few nights. Would you like to come? I mean, it’s the all-male revue but should be fun? I’m actually kinda into one of the guys in the show and want to check him out. Which, I know, over-share much?”
Knowing firsthand how hot McQueen is, I have no doubt she’s into one of the guys in the show with him. They’re all gorgeous and ripped. Heck, the guy she has the hots for very well could be McQueen.
Instead of asking about McQueen, I stick to the facts.
“I wish I could, but I’m going to be out of town next week.”
“Oh, really? Work or pleasure?”
I bite my lip, knowing it’s both, and knowing that the moment I agreed to Landon’s job offer my life became an episode of some Bravo! TV show.
“Pleasure, mostly. Going to England, actually.”
“Oh, wow, that’s awesome,” she says. “Well, have a blast.”
Just then the kindergarten class files out into the hallway.
“Nice seeing you, JoJo,” I say, reaching for Sophia’s hand the moment she steps out the door. I sweep her up, knowing I need to get home and start packing.
Landon calls as I’m in the drive-thru at Panera getting Sophia a kid’s mac and cheese, while listening to the Frozen soundtrack for the eighteen billionth time.
“Tomorrow at ten,” he says, letting me know when the car will be there to pick me up.
He also says I need to get his credit card to get a new wardrobe.
Great, I’ll squeeze that in after I get Sophia down for a nap. My to-do list is unquestionably out of control. Besides quality time I need to squeeze in with my daughter,
I apparently need to have a shopping spree. No way can I do it all.
That’s when Landon begins talking about the sex-potential of the trip. I whisper-yell my sex-boundaries, with the volume cranked up so Sophia doesn’t hear. Landon and I are on such completely different wavelengths at the moment. But obviously I can’t explain that. Not now. I just need to get to England.
Just as I’m about to hang up with Landon, a car starts backing into me in the drive-thru.
“Fuck!” I drop the phone, hang up, and start screaming for the person in front of me to stop their car. Thankfully, just before their bumper collides with my hood, the car stops rolling.
That was way too close for comfort. And I hate it when I’m human and swear in front of my daughter. Mom-fail #35867.
“Mama, is my mac and cheese ready?” Sophia asks.
“Soon, sweet pea, soon.”
I get our food and we eat as we drive, the chorus of Let It Go non-ironically blaring as I swing by the bank, pick up my uniform from the dry cleaners, then pull into Jiffy Lube for a quick oil change.
The last thing I want to do is leave my mom with the car when I’m out of the country, only to have it blow up on her. Which I know is dramatic but everything feels dramatic at the moment.
But honestly, the thing I’m most worried about at the moment is this whole thing blowing up in my own face.
Landon
Later, Claire calls me, calmly stating that, while she wishes she could swing by for a credit card and do some shopping, her responsibilities lie elsewhere. She asks if I would be so kind as to have a personal shopper pick up a wardrobe for her, considering I have “gobs of cash.”
“Uh, of course. That’s no problem,” I tell her. “I just thought women like to shop, you know, try on shoes while sipping white wine?” I have vague memories of my ex-girlfriend doing something similar. Perhaps, though, it isn’t every woman’s desire.
“Right, well … I’m not most women.”
“I never said you were. God, woman, is everything okay?” I can’t have her getting cold feet before we’ve even left the bloody country.
