“I think the event opportunities are here. The people just don’t know they need me, or more importantly, afford me…yet. You don’t have to throw a big-budgeted occasion to hire an event planner.”
“So what are you waiting for? It seems to me like you have everything planned out.”
She licked her lips and turned her attention back to the container of pasta in front of her. “I don’t have the money, remember? I won’t get it until I marry Connor, and I can’t do that because I’m playing house with you.”
“Then let me help.”
Her bright-blue gaze snapped to mine. “No. I won’t take your money.”
“Consider it a loan. You’d have to get a loan from a bank anyway, right?”
“Yeah, but I’d much rather get it from an actual institution than you.”
I had no idea why, but hearing her say that wounded me. I didn’t want her to know the pain she caused, so I played it off. “Well, let me know if you change your mind or want to start looking at office spaces. I’d be happy to help you get things prepared so when you do get the money, you don’t have to wait.”
She offered me a genuine smile. “Thank you.”
We finished eating in silence, but once all the trash was thrown away, desperation ate at my core. I knew she’d be leaving soon and I didn’t want her to go. “We should do this more often. Not lunch—that’s not what I mean. But eating together. You know, at home, after I get off work. Why do we have to eat separately every night?”
Ever since our truce last weekend, she’d started to make me other things than just sandwiches. Monday night, she’d fixed hot dogs—although we didn’t have buns so I had to eat mine on sandwich bread. Tuesday, I got buttered noodles. Still, I didn’t complain. I was happy with what I got, and actually enjoyed every bite.
“You want us to eat dinner together?” The way she asked made it sound like I’d suggested we intimately eat off each other’s naked bodies.
“Yeah. You know, like two ordinary people. Friends. Roomies. Kinda like we just did, but in the evening, at home, at a table not a desk.” Finally, that got her to smile and relax. “We can try it tonight, and if it’s just too uncomfortable for you, then we can go back to eating at two completely different times, and not even sit with each other.”
To my utter surprise, when I walked inside after work, beat and exhausted from a rough day, I found Janelle in the kitchen with a fucking apron on. I bit my tongue to halt all the smartass remarks that were begging to surface. Instead, I stepped up behind her and watched as she proudly scooped macaroni and cheese onto two plates. I helped grab drinks and spoons and then met her at the table.
Conversation was stilted for a few minutes while we both adjusted to the company, but after a couple bites of the noodles coated in orange sauce that had originated from powder and meant to pass as cheese, I hummed and said, “This is amazing. Thank you.”
She smiled, and it may have just been me, but she seemed to relax and eat easier.
I felt good about this—but I refused to analyze why.
11
Janelle
Over the next few weeks, Holden and I had grown closer, and it definitely repaired the core of our friendship. However, we still hadn’t brought up anything major. Other than our initial conversation about why we’d gotten married to begin with, that night hadn’t come up again. There had been many times I’d wanted to question him, ask about what else occurred and the following day when he left. My mind refused to let go of the past, specifically what had taken place the rest of that summer, and basically, the last five years. But I never asked. Things seemed to be going well between us, and the last thing I wanted to do was drudge up the past, so rather than poke and prod, I went with the flow and tried to enjoy our time together as much as possible.
“Have you given any additional thought about the space we looked at yesterday?” he asked on the way to my parents’ house for our weekly family dinner. “It’s a really good location, so I worry it won’t be available for long. The realtor said something about it just being listed in the last week—I think that’s what he said.”
For the last three Saturdays, Holden had taken me to look at storefront options. To entertain him, I went along and pretended to show interest. After all, it wasn’t like I’d even be able to afford these places. But I kept my mouth closed and humored him with it because he’d told me it was nothing more than looking at options so I could have a plan for when I received my money. Needless to say, this was the first time he made any mention of doing more than “window shopping.”
“We’ve discussed this already, Holden. I can’t sign a lease yet.”
“Yeah, but if we find something perfect, we should go ahead and grab it, because it more than likely won’t be available later. These shops go quickly…trust me.”
I ignored how he spoke of this as if it were a joint venture. “It doesn’t matter how perfect it is, because I can’t afford it right now. You keep finding these places smack dab in the heart of town. In order to find something within my budget, I’ll have to get something on the outskirts, probably shoved back in the wooded area off Herron Street.” I shuttered and added, “Who knows how many bodies are out there in those woods. Everyone knows they’re haunted, and that won’t be much of a selling point to welcome people in the front door.”
“Exactly, which is why you should pick one of the ones we’ve looked at. Stop worrying about the money. I can help, and before you freak out, let me explain. You already know you’re getting that money from the show, right? So you should let me help you get what you want and deserve now, and then you can just pay me back when you get the cash.”
Moments like these, when he made comments about the money I’d get for marrying Connor, left me extremely confused. There were days where we got along so well, even I could’ve been convinced we were a real couple and had a strong chance of ending up together. I could’ve allowed myself to believe he was in love with me, always had been, and his motive from the very beginning was to make me feel the same. Yet it never failed, as soon as I began to believe we were both on the same page, he’d go and mention Connor—without actually using his name—or nonchalantly bring up how much time we had left before he signed the papers. I couldn’t understand why those words would leave me so dejected.