Britta uses a key to open an office door, flips on a light, and stands aside to let me pass.
“Let’s fucking go, Sumner” comes a guttural shout from the dining room.
“Lock her down, bro. Do it for the team. Do it for America.”
Out of sight, I flip them my middle finger and follow Britta into the office, ducking just in time to keep my forehead from smacking off the doorjamb. “Sorry about that,” I mutter.
“No worries. It’s standard Bandit behavior,” she quips easily, because she’s so effortlessly cool. Although she does seem a little more restless than usual, twisting a silver ring around and around her thumb. “Do you . . .
want to sit down?”
“Sure.”
I look at the two regular, human-size chairs, know I’ll never fit, and opt for the small loveseat in the corner of the office instead. Britta turns one of the smaller chairs to face me and sits down, tipping her head forward in a moment of thought, all that moon-colored hair falling around her bare shoulders. It’s almost like being on a date, except she’s breaking up with me before we even order appetizers.
“I hear your work visa is expiring tomorrow.” She wets her lips. “And they’re sending you back to Canada—”
“The guys think they’re trying to help, but they shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I would never expect you to agree to something so crazy.”
Her half smile produces a dimple, and I almost pass out, it’s so pretty.
“Marrying a nice, thoughtful guy isn’t so crazy, Sumner. It’s just the last-minute timing of it all. Not to mention, the fact that we’d be electing to lie to the federal government, and that’s never a good idea.” She pauses, squinting one eye. “Also, I would rather die than get married. To anyone.
Real or fake.”
My throat drops into my stomach.
Bryce mentioned to me once that his half sister didn’t “do relationships.”
I wasn’t sure why. He wouldn’t tell me either.
That conversation has been sitting in the back of my head until now, but I had no idea her aversion to commitment was so extreme. “Why?”
She shrugs. Wrinkles her nose. “Reasons.”
“But marriage is so . . . great,” I say, kind of dazed.
A blonde eyebrow shoots up. “Has that been your experience?”
“Yeah. My parents have been married for thirty-eight years. They have five kids, and they act like they just got back from their honeymoon.”
Just for a moment, there is a dreamy light in her eyes, but it winks right out. “That’s lovely, Sumner. But not all marriages are like that.” She studies me, as if in a different light than usual. “Yours will be, though.
Someday.”
I nod. She’s right. I won’t let it be anything but solid.
Traditionally, women are expected to dream of their weddings. But I’ve been thinking of mine since my oldest sister got married a decade ago.
I want that moment, surrounded by family and friends, where I commit to love and protect someone my entire life. I want the person I’m marrying to know I mean it. Then I want to spend my life proving myself to them. I just haven’t met a woman that I could picture walking toward me in a white dress. Yet.
Liar.
My ears burn when I remember how many nights I’ve spent lying in bed, beating off while imagining Britta holding a giant bouquet of flowers, a long white train trailing after her. Or holding out her hand so I can slide a ring onto her finger.
An embarrassing number of times.
What self-respecting man jerks off to a wedding?
“I guess . . . I think marriage is an honor. Someone putting that much faith in you and believing you can rise to the occasion is a rare thing. You know?”
“Of course, that is . . . a beautiful idea.” She can’t quite hide her skepticism, but I can’t tell if she’s skeptical of me or the overall concept.
“It’s just not for me.”
It occurs to me that I sound like I’m trying to talk her into the idea, which wasn’t my intention, as much as I would like her to consider it.
Consider me. “I’m well aware you’re saying no, Britta. You don’t have to let me down easy.”
“Great. Okay.” She lets out a halting breath, twisting that ring again.
“Will you . . . pay someone else? Or was I your only last-ditch possibility?”
Pay someone else?
What is she talking about?
I never had any plans to pay a woman to marry me, even if doing so could mean staying in Connecticut long enough to get called up to the professional development league. Did Bryce tell her that? Before I can question her meaning, Britta keeps going. “I’m not saying yes, obviously.