Trillion - A Fake Relationship Romance

A sparkling diamond pendant rests on a white silk pillow. In the movies, women gasp when presented with jewelry, but all the air seems to have been sucked from my lungs.

I don’t know what to say.

No one’s ever given me something like this before, not even close.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

What kind of question is that? Who wouldn’t like a diamond necklace?

I swallow the stunned lump in my throat and force myself to nod. Of course I like it. It’s beautiful. Almost too beautiful to wear.

“Try it on.” He takes the box and carefully removes the necklace. A moment later, it’s fastened around my neck.

I flip down the passenger visor and inspect the way it shimmers against the backdrop of my fuzzy brown sweater like a sharp juxtaposition of my humble life against his, my eighteen years against his forty-some. My nervous hope against his impeccable confidence.

“I love it,” I tell him. I’d lean across the console and kiss him, but I doubt he wants to be covered in sticky vanilla lip gloss.

“Three flawless carats,” he adds. “I’ve always loved the number three. Signifies past, present, and future.”

Is he saying he has a future with me?

I don’t ask.

“You ready?” He gives my hand a squeeze before lifting it to his lips and depositing a kiss that sends butterflies twirling in my middle.

“Where are we going?” I fasten my seatbelt as he pulls out of our apartment complex. I told my mother I was seeing him again tonight. She protested with what little energy she had, and I promptly reminded her I was eighteen.

I rarely pull the sassy teenager card on her, but tonight I had no choice.

I wanted to see Nolan.

I needed to see Nolan.

“There’s a little place just outside the city,” he says. “We should be able to see the stars from there, once we’re farther away from the lights. Thought maybe we could get to know each other a little better.”

He takes my hand in his, holding it the way you would a boyfriend or girlfriend, and a blanket of warmth envelopes every inch of me, head to toe.

“Sound good?” he asks, peering at me before checking his rearview.

The fact that he wants to get to know me is a good sign. I’m an adult. We can date. Maybe something’s going to come of this after all?

I nod, whispering a quiet “yes” as I gaze from behind the pristine glass of his lightning-fast sports car. We weave through traffic, the engine growling at times and purring at others, the ride as smooth as ice. It’s quite a change from my Honda that picks up every bump and crack in the road and overheats every time the temperature hits the nineties.

I think of the cash hidden under my mattress. The price tag on this sports car. The diamond dangling from my neck.

According to Google, his father is a steel magnate and his mother is sole heir to an oil fortune. The internet listed their family’s net worth in the hundreds of millions of dollars. A few images showed Nolan with various beautiful women on his arm, all of them clearly in their twenties. All of them worldlier than me. Their hair and makeup professionally done. Their outfits impeccably styled.

With his vast wealth and the entire world at his fingertips, I can’t help but wonder: why me?

“Did you quit your job yet?” he asks. In the blink of an eye, the scenery changes from city to suburban sprawl.

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can.” He removes his hand from mine as he changes lanes.

“I like my job.”

He shoots me a quick smirk and then he chuckles. “Nobody likes being a waitress, Soph.”

I do.

“My family needs the extra money,” I say. “My mom’s not able to work right now and my sister has muscular dystrophy. We have a lot of expenses.”

In fact, we’re drowning in them …

“I told you, I’m going to take care of you,” he says.

“I know. But I take care of my family, so …”

“Let me know what you need. I’ll help you any way I can.”

I don’t know what to say other than it sounds too good to be true. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

I just want him to love me …

“I’m going to be in the city every weekend for the next year.” He turns to me in the dark. “I’d like to spend my free time with you, but if you’re working … I’m not sure how that’s going to happen. I want to know that I can call you and you’ll be there. I don’t want to wait until the end of your shift, when you’re tired. I don’t want scraps of you, Soph.”

He takes my hand again, kissing the top of it.

Our surroundings grow darker as we reach the countryside, the roads winding with every passing mile. The stars are brighter out here and the moon is as big as I’ve ever seen it. A wooden sign says we’re in Harrington Park.