The Billionaire's Unexpected Wife: Part 2

15

When I woke the next morning, it took me a moment to remember who was in bed next to me. Not that I thought she was someone else. No, just that her presence felt so natural and so obvious that I couldn’t bring to mind a time when things hadn’t been this way.

I slid my arms around her and planted a kiss on the top of her head, and she snuggled into me and let out a little moan. I couldn’t help but smile, still half-asleep. She felt so good next to me, so obvious and sweet and good. I loved having her here. I loved—

I stopped myself dead in my tracks before I went a single word further. Nope. I didn’t love anything. Certainly not this and certainly not the woman lying next to me in bed. This was just a little fun, that was all, an agreement the two of us had made to work off her debt and get my family off my back. Remember?

But as I watched her sleep, the slow, peaceful rise and fall of her breath soothed me, and I knew there was something more going on here. I was just getting so used to having her around, and it had only been a couple of months. I had a whole year to get through, and I was supposed to be able to keep this woman at arm’s length, to convince myself and everyone else there was nothing there in a mere year’s time? My family loved her, and I was already enjoying getting to know her sister, not to mention the way she had switched up my day-to-day life, how much I loved having someone around I could actually talk to in the evening. I glanced at the painting she had hung opposite the bed a few weeks before, a bright splash of primary colors that danced in the morning light. That was what she had done. She had brought color into my life, switching me on and bringing my life out from under the sepia tone I’d been trapped in all this time.

I climbed out of bed swiftly before my mind could go any further down that path. Nope. Love wasn’t real, not the kind of love that sustained this type of relationship, anyway. Love was just something they had constructed to sell wedding dresses and hire venues and give caterers work, to make sure they could keep selling rings.

I stopped myself dead right there all over again as I remembered with a creeping sense of dread that I had purchased her a ring after that night in New York together. When I had looked down and seen the band glinting on her finger and determined she needed something more. I could have convinced myself this was all part of the act, but I knew it wasn’t. I had gone out of my way to choose something I thought she’d like, a sapphire in a slim silver band, delicate and beautiful like her. And I was going to give it to her after the fundraiser when I was all dressed up with somewhere to go.

What the fuck was happening to me? I strode to the shower and hoped the hot water could scrub me of all this stupid delusion. I wasn’t in love. I had never been in love, not really, not properly, and I wasn’t going to start now. I just had to remember what had happened to my father, all those wives, each and every one believing she was the one who would make the difference and stick things out and each and every one of them kicked to the curb when he fell for someone he deemed more perfect. I wasn’t going to be like that. I was never going to be like that.

When I headed out of the shower and got dressed, I could hear her in the kitchen. I was glad she wasn’t asleep in the bed any longer because the sight of her all splayed out over the sheets was tempting in ways that were way too dangerous to consider. I pulled on some clothes and headed through to the kitchen where I found her attempting to work the briki to make us some coffee. I couldn’t help chuckling when I saw the intent of her concentration, and I came over to help, our hands touching briefly as I guided her in the right direction.

“You’d think I had a better idea how to work this thing by now,” she groaned, grinning at me playfully. “I just wanted to make you some coffee before we left this morning.”

“You’re good,” I replied, as neutral as I could manage, and I swiftly poured us both a cup. “When do you want to leave?”

“Well, we’ve got to pick up Jolene and then go to your family’s place.” She consulted the clock on her phone. “Call it twenty minutes?”

“Sure.” I nodded, and I began to work on my coffee as I gathered myself for the rest of the day. Nonna had insisted that we bring Jolene up to the house to visit once more, and Amaya had been thrilled to oblige. I had to admit, I was glad when she suggested it, pleased that we were no longer going to have to make the choice between her family and mine over the weekend.

Amaya got ready, humming under her breath, and I did my best not to stare at her as she did so. There was just something so easy and so sweet about the way she moved around the apartment like she had always been there, like she had always belonged here, at least.

We got in the car, headed down to pick up Jolene, and swapped our car out for the van we would need to transport her. Jolene beamed when she saw me, and I noticed she was wearing a little makeup and had done her hair.

“You look nice,” I remarked as we helped her into the van.

“Amaya told me all about this house,” she replied. “I want to look good if it’s that fancy.”

“It’s really not that much.” I shook my head, and Amaya cocked her head at me and raised her eyebrows.

“There are literal marble pillars,” she reminded me, and I grinned and held my hands up.

“All right, point taken,” I conceded. “It’s a lot.”

I made the rest of the drive down there so Amaya could catch up with her sister, and I glanced in the mirror and watched them talk. I loved the way their faces lit up when they were around each other, as though this was what they had been waiting for all day long. It was sweet, heartening to see, and I found my mind straying back to that point I had been trying to ignore since this morning. I wanted Amaya to always be this happy. I wanted that look on her face as much as humanly possible, and that meant inviting Jolene to live with us.

I had considered it before, of course, just because it would have been easier for me having her at the apartment than it was driving all the way out here every single time I wanted to see her. I could have hired a home caregiver so everything was taken care of and cleared out the guest bedroom to make room for anything she needed to keep around. I was going to get that car anyway, the one that was built for her wheelchair, so that was taken care of. It would have been just so damn easy to make her a part of our lives, to make Amaya as happy as this every chance I got.

But then, this was only for a year. What happened when that year was up? Jolene didn’t seem to know this was all part of a contract, and how devastating would it be to move into this new place, to start this new life somewhere, only to have it whipped out from under her with no notice and no indication there was anything wrong? I might have been an asshole in the past, but I wasn’t enough of an asshole to involve a teenage girl in my machinations that way. Even though the thought of having her in that apartment, the thought of sharing that with Amaya, was so good, it made my heart ache a little.

I shoved it to the back of my mind and made the rest of the drive over to my grandmother’s place. She had been on the phone with me the day before, practically insisting I bring Jolene and Amaya to her. It was odd to think that only a couple of months ago, I had been worried she might not even like Amaya, and now here she was, probably willing to turn me away on the spot if I got there without them.

We came to a halt outside the house, and Amaya helped Jolene out with her wheelchair, the two of them still chatting away. It seemed as though they would never run out of things to talk about, that they could have sustained a conversation forever. Sometimes, that’s how I felt about Amaya, as though when we were together, time just seemed to open up and splay out with possibilities. I ignored that thought and was about to get out of the car to give them a hand when I saw it.

The ramp. My nonna had installed a wheelchair ramp over the marble steps to her house, just as she’d said she would when she’d first met Jolene. I stared at it for a long moment, the reality of the situation taking a hot minute to settle in for me, and then my heart sank.

I knew I should have been happy she was being so welcoming to Amaya and Jolene, that she had gone to such lengths to make sure they knew they were as much a part of the family as any of the rest of us, but I had to fight the urge to throw the van into reverse and get out of there without looking back. It hit me like a ton of marble bricks that this little scheme we were pulling was going to hurt people. I had assumed it was just the two of us who were putting ourselves on the line for it, but looking at that ramp, at the way Jolene’s face lit up when she saw it, I knew we had just been lying to ourselves. This whole thing was complicated and messy and with every day that passed, we became further and further embroiled in each other’s lives. After a whole year, I wasn’t sure we would ever be able to pull ourselves apart.

I sat there frozen for a moment longer, but then Nonna came to the door and threw it open, hurrying down the steps to greet Amaya and Jolene. She glanced at me in the van, furrowed her brow, and jerked her head toward the house, indicating I should hurry up and get out already.

“What are you waiting for?” she called to me. “We’re waiting for you.”

I hesitated for another moment, but I knew I had to face the music. There was nothing I could do to get out of this, and I had to accept that this plan had gone well. Too well. Now, other people around us might end up hurt as a result. I went over and gave my Nonna a big hug, and silently asked her to forgive me.