“Thank you.” I take Lottie’s hand in mine and allow her to guide me down the hallway to the last room on the left. She opens the door, drags me in, and then shuts the door behind me.
I take in the small but fully decorated room. Posters of rock bands span across every wall. From the Beatles, to ELO, to Boston, everyone is represented, even on the ceiling. Her bed is unmade, there are clothes on the ground, and her dresser is covered in makeup and face products. I feel as though I’ve been transported back two decades to one of my girlfriend’s rooms. Clutter, everything you like plastered on the walls, and even though there isn’t a black light in her room, there is rope lighting outlining her door. This girl is not that much younger than me, but man does it feel like it.
“How old are you, again?” I ask, turning to face her. I’m greeted by a very angry-looking woman: arms crossed, jaw clenched, foot tapping.
Damn, the girl truly can commit murder with her eyes.
“What the actual hell are you doing here?”
“We’ll get to that in a second. I just need to know how old you are first.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, babe, I’m twenty-eight. No need to call your lawyers.” She passes me, her shoulder bumping against mine as she makes her way to her unmade bed and takes a seat. Her sheets are covered in tiny hearts, whereas her comforter is pitch black and velvety. I’m trying to gain an understanding of this girl, but I can’t seem to put my finger on her. She’s all over the place.
Rock posters. Heart sheets.
Surly attitude. Cares about her parents.
Snarls from across the table. Will gobble down whatever is placed in front of her.
“Now tell me what the hell you think you’re doing,” she says.
“Doing you a favor.” I stick my hands in my pants pockets.
“How is lying to my mom doing me a favor? She legit thinks we’re a couple.”
“Which was accomplished by my impeccable acting. You could use some adjustments.”
Her brows narrow. Cool it with the teasing, man, she’s not open to it right now.
“I thought I told you at Chipotle I wasn’t interested.”
“You were interested,” I say. “But you were spooked. Not sure what spooked you, but I saw a shift in you. I knew you weren’t through with this; you just needed some encouragement. That’s what the flowers were, encouragement.”
“Uh-huh. And what would you say today is?”
“Today is a kick in the ass.”
“I don’t need a kick in the ass. You’re the one who needs this more than I do.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, feeling cocky now with knowledge. “Because from what it seems like, your mom is counting down the seconds until you leave this house. She also seems to believe you will be receiving a promotion soon, when, in fact, you’re out of a job. Care to tell me why she thinks that?”
Lottie moves her jaw back and forth but doesn’t answer me.
I thumb toward the door. “Or should I go ask her myself?” I move to leave and she quickly springs from the bed and grabs my hand, pulling me back.
“Don’t say a GD thing to my mom.” She sits on the bed and then flops backwards. “God, why is this such a nightmare?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say. “It could be really simple. We can help each other out, but for some reason, you’re not allowing that to happen.”
“Because you’re a complete stranger,” she hisses at me. “You want me to be your fiancée, live with you apparently, and be at your beck and call? I have a life I have to live, I don’t have time to play your rich-dick game.”
“This isn’t a game for me,” I say. “This is a huge fuckup on my part, and I’m trying to make it better, for everyone. And you won’t have to be at my beck and call, just a few dinners here and there, maybe a weekend thing, just until I can secure this deal, and then you can tell me to fuck off.”
“And what do I get in return?” she asks, lifting up so she’s leaning on her elbows.
“Whatever you want,” I say, because I’m at that point. I want her to know the sky is the limit, because I’ve yet to mention the pregnancy thing. “Need a place to stay? I have a seven-bedroom home. Need a date for your reunion? I’m your man. Need me to make a phone call to this ex-boss of yours, let her know she made a huge mistake by letting you go? I’m there for you. Want a job? I can find you one.”
“I don’t want a job from you,” she says. “I really want . . .” Her voice trails off as she shakes her head and looks toward her window.
Oh, she does want something. I can see it in her far-off gaze. It’s wishful, hopeful, something behind those sultry eyes that she truly, truly wants.
I take that opportunity to sit next to her on the bed. This might be a breakthrough moment for me, where I can move past that tough exterior of hers. “What do you want, Lottie? Trust me, I can make pretty much anything happen.”
Her lips twist to the side as she avoids eye contact with me. Just from the way her brow draws together, I know she’s thinking about it, considering telling me. Instead of pushing, I wait.
And wait.
Until . . .
“I want to be able to help my sister,” she says quietly. “I want to feel fulfilled with my career, appreciated, and I know I can do that with Kelsey. She’s my person, my best friend, and working with her would be a dream.” She glances at me. “But she can’t afford to hire me, and I need to make money.”
“What does she do?” I appreciate the vulnerability in her voice. When she’s not hiding behind the snark and sarcasm, she’s the most unselfish person I’ve ever known. Here I am with the proverbial Aladdin’s lamp, and she wants to help her sister. True altruism. Wow.
“She has her own organizing company. Think The Home Edit, but doing it sustainably.”
“What’s The Home Edit?” I ask, confused. Is that something I should know?
“Ugh, men,” she mutters before saying, “The Home Edit is all about organizing your house, paring things down, and making sure you live an organized life rather than a chaotic one. They turn pantries into havens, fridges into masterpieces. It’s spectacular. Kelsey is on the cusp of being able to push forward and be more than a one-person show, but she’s having a hard time keeping up with the business side. That’s where I would come in.”
“I see.” I stare down at her. “You know, I have a lot of connections. My brothers alone could use someone to come into their house and organize. Our offices could use an overhaul. I can make sure your sister’s business is not only seen by the type of people who would spend a lot of money for her services, but I can make it thrive as well.”
“We don’t want your charity.”
“It’s not charity. I’m not telling people to use her, but if you want to go anywhere in business, Lottie, you have to know connections mean everything. Sometimes, just one person is all you need. One person to ignite the flame, because that one person might know five people, and those five people might know five more people, and that’s how a business grows at first, word of mouth. I’m that first person and I know way more than five people.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want to help you.” How do I make her believe me? “How about this—you pretend to be my fiancée and go to these business events with me, and in return, you can stay at my house—”
“I’m not living with you. I can move in with Kelsey. There’s no way I’m living with a stranger I don’t know.”
“Fine. You take the job with Kelsey and move in with her, and I help you two with some connections.”
She mulls it over, her lips twisted to the side.
“And you know,” I add, clearing my throat, “if you could be pregnant as well, that would be ideal.”
“What?” she says, sitting up completely. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not letting you get me pregnant.”
“Fuck, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Pretend to be pregnant. Pretend. I’m not going to be fucking you or anything like that.”
Her brow knits together. “Why on earth would I pretend to be pregnant?”
“Because I told the guy I’m trying to do business with that you’re pregnant.”
“Why? Why would you say that?”