Marriage For One

“I’d like us to get married for a number of reasons, but the one that would interest you most is the fact that you’d get to open your coffee shop on Madison Avenue.”

When she didn’t make any comments, we remained silent.

“Is that it?” she finally asked, her tone impatient. “You want to marry me—sorry, make a business deal with me by marrying me so I can open my coffee shop?”

“Sounds like you understood me well enough.”

After another baffled look, she leaned back in her seat then got up, dumped her handbag on the chair, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to gaze at the skyline. A whole minute passed in silence, and my patience started to wear thin.

“You’re insane then,” she said. “Are you insane, Mr. Hawthorne?”

“I’m not going to answer that question,” I replied tersely.

“That’s nothing new. You’re not answering my questions, you’re not explaining things.”

“I want to help you. It’s that simple.”

She glanced at me with her big brown eyes, staring as if I had lost my mind, and when I didn’t go on, she raised her arms and dropped them. “That simple? Could you be helpful right now and explain further, please? You want to help me, for some insane reason—me, someone who incidentally doesn’t even know your first name.”

“My first name is Jack.”

She studied me for a long moment, our gazes holding.

“You’re serious, aren’t you? Is this a service you offer to all your clients, Jack Hawthorne? Offering to help them by marrying them?”

“You’re the first, Miss Coleson.”

“So, I’m the special snowflake.”

“In a way, yes.”

Turning back to the view, she dropped her head and rubbed her temples. “Why?”

“Are you asking me why you’re a special snowflake?”

Snorting, she glanced at me over her shoulder. “No, I’m not asking you… Can you give me more information, please? Like actual sentences that explain things and actually makes sense? I’m pretty sure you’re not asking me to marry you just to help me out. What’s in it for you? What are all those reasons you mentioned?” She looked around my office, taking everything in, me included—all the expensive furniture, my clothes, the view, the clients and lawyers walking by. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it isn’t about money, because I don’t think I have anything to offer you on that front.”

“You’re right, I don’t need money. Like I said before, this is strictly a business deal. It means nothing else to me. When we go ahead with the marriage—”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself while I’m still trying to figure out if you’re the one who is mocking me.”

I ignored her assessment and continued. “It’ll be nothing more than a business transaction between two people.” I got up and walked toward her. “I made partner this year, Miss Coleson. I’m thirty-one years old, the youngest partner in the firm, and to properly deal with some of my current and future clients, I need to make a good impression. There are formal and informal dinners, events I need to attend. Although it’s not a requirement to be in a serious relationship or to be a ‘family man’, as they put it, I believe I can use the illusion a marriage will provide to my advantage. I don’t want to lose any of my clients or any potential clients to other partners.”

Crossing her arms against her chest, she faced me, and we looked at each other. I couldn’t even begin to guess what was going through her mind. My own damn mind, however, was at war with my conscience.

“Why not marry someone you love? Someone you’re dating? Someone you actually know? Why would you even consider asking me? You know nothing about me. We’re nothing but two strangers.” Seemingly trying to hold back her emotions, she took a deep breath. “Call me old-fashioned, Mr. Hawthorne, but I’m a romantic. I believe in marrying someone for love and only for love. Marriage is… Marriage means something completely different to me than what I think it means to you. I don’t want to be insulting, I don’t know you, but you don’t strike me as someone who necessarily puts much meaning…”

“You can finish your sentence, Miss Coleson.” I jammed my hands back into the pockets of my pants.

“I think you get where I’m coming from.”

I nodded because I did get it. “I don’t have time for personal relationships at the moment, and I’m not going to marry someone who’ll end up expecting more than what I’m offering. I’m not offering you something I’m not ready to give, and you can’t be that naïve, can you? You can’t think I only want to marry you to have someone hang on my arm on appropriate occasions and pay me a small amount of rent.”

Her spine straightened, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “Naïve? Trust me, Mr. Hawthorne, I’m not that naïve. If I was married my husband would own the property, that’s what the will says. So if you’re my husband…” She paused and then shrugged. “I get that you’re after the property as well, but I’m still waiting to hear about the part where you’d help me. So far all I’ve heard is you getting everything you want out of this. I’m failing to see how marrying you will help me save the—to you, very meager, I’m sure—life savings I’ve already spent to buy everything for the coffee shop. Where does me opening the coffee shop fit? In this scenario, you get the fake wife and the property, a property I’m assuming you can buy from my cousins if they’re considering selling it, if that’s what you want.”