The Convenient Wife

Stretching my legs, I lay back and put on my sunglasses. Pulling a book out of my bag, I start to open it up when I see Yale wandering through the outside deck area.

He looks confused, maybe even a little lost, so I drop my book into the bag and stand up. “Yale!” I call out, waving my arm wildly.

Placing a hand over the top of his eyes, he squints through the bright sun. I see the recognition on his face as he gives me a light wave and heads in my direction.

Slipping my feet into my sandals, I walk around the pool to meet him. “Hey, Yale, you look lost.” Setting my hands on my hips, I turn my back to the sun so I can see his face.

“Not lost, I’m looking for Vincent. I have the seating arrangement for tonight, and I can’t find him or Claudette anywhere.”

“Oh, Bolt’s meeting with him right now. He’s supposed to come here when he’s done, so they’re probably still together, maybe in the banquet hall?”

“Great, thanks,” he says quickly, then turns to leave.

“Actually—” Reaching out, I grab his arm at the elbow, causing him to sway slightly. “Can I talk to you for a minute first?”

“Yeah, but make it quick, we’re down to the wire for tonight.”

“It won’t take long.” Taking in a slow breath, I exhale and ask, “I’m just wondering why you said that about me to Bolt’s parents?”

“Said what?”

“That I was the intern, and that I grew up in Crest Village.”

“They asked.” His lips turn up as his eyes settle on mine. “And it is the truth, I don’t see what the issue is.” His voice is nothing but fact, like he filled in the blanks to some questionnaire.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. It wasn’t your place to tell them any of that. The way his father looked at me after, it hurt. That wasn’t how I pictured it going at all.”

“Yeah, so?” Yale cocks his head, his face flat and emotionless.

“Yeah so? How can you say that? It was the first time I ever met his parents. I wanted to make a good impression, I wanted them to like me. But after you told them—I don’t know, they just looked at me like I was beneath them. Both of them stared at me like I crawled out of a garbage can.”

“Starla,” he says, my name rolling off his tongue like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “This marriage is fake. You do remember that, right?” Arching a brow, he lets his head tip from one shoulder to the other. “None of this is real. You’re not Bolt’s wife. You never were Bolt’s wife, you’ll never be Bolt’s wife, it’s as simple as that.”

Hearing the words sends a sharp pain through my heart. I know he’s right, I guess I lost sight of what I was doing, and I was playing the part maybe a little too well. But that doesn’t mean I want to be embarrassed in front of Bolt’s parents or feel like a piece of shit.

Couldn’t I pretend to be some wealthy princess from a royal family? Couldn’t I create a version of myself that would hold up to their standards?

Why couldn’t they just get to know me, the real person and nothing else. It shouldn’t matter where I come from, how much or how little I have. All his parents should care about is how I treat their son.

“Yes, I know, I just. . .” Pausing, I let my arms fall loosely by my side. “I just wanted them to like me. I don’t know, it might sound dumb, but I wanted them to accept me.”

I don’t know why them liking me feels important, but it does. Bolt has become a major part of my life, whether I want him to or not. This fake marriage has led to real feelings, real emotions, real need. And I’m not sure how to shut them off.

They’re there, twirling in my belly like a hoard of locusts, making me smile from the inside out. I feel warm and fuzzy when Bolt walks into a room or touches me. His kisses burn my skin, leaving a mark I can still feel hours later.

If this is all pretend, then I should win an award, because it feels real to me.

Reaching out, he grips my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, this is all part of the plan, Starla.”

What the hell is he talking about?

Plan? No one told me about a plan.

Jerking my arm away, I take a step back. “What plan? What the hell are you talking about, a plan for what?”

I know this is all fake, but there’s a plan?

Yale says it like I should know, like I’m inside the same circle and know what the hell he’s talking about. I don’t.