“Are you offering to pay me for companionship?” I ignored the pulse flicking in my eyelid. “Because there’s a word for that. Prostitution.”
“I’m not paying you to sleep with me.”
“You don’t have to. I foolishly did that for free.”
“Didn’t hear any complaints at the time. Look, Mad—”
“Chase.” I mimicked his warning tone, hating that he used his nickname for me—not Maddie, not Mads, just Mad—and that it still made the pit of my belly swarm with butterflies.
“We both know you’ll do it,” he explained, with the thinly veiled exasperation of an adult explaining to a toddler why they should take their medicine. “Spare us this little tango. It’s late, I have a board meeting tomorrow, and I’m sure you’re dying to tell your friends all about your little date with Scooby-Dull.”
“We do?” I parroted, my eyes dangerously close to setting him on fire purely through the power of revulsion. I didn’t even touch his last dig. That was just Chase being Chase, beating his own Guinness World Record at being an asshole.
“Yes. Because you’re Martyr Maddie, and it’s the right thing to do. You’re selfless, considerate, and compassionate.” He listed those traits matter-of-factly, like they didn’t chart positively in his book. His eyes drifted from my face to the wall behind me, on which I’d pinned dozens of squares of delicate fabrics. Chiffon and silk and organza. Materials in white and crème from all over the world, along with penciled sketches of wedding gowns. I shook my head, knowing what he was thinking.
“Reel it in, Cowboy Crabs-anova. I’d never marry you.”
“That’s good news all around.”
“Is it? Because I think you just asked me to be your fiancée.”
“Fake fiancée. It is not your hand in marriage I am asking for.”
“What are you asking for?”
“The courtesy of not breaking my father’s heart.”
“Chase . . .”
“Because not coming? Mad, it will shatter him.” He dragged a shaky hand through his tresses.
“This’ll snowball.” I shook my head. My fingers were dancing, they quivered so badly.
“Not under my watch.” He held my gaze, not a muscle twitching on his face. “I don’t want you back, Madison,” he said, and for some reason, the words cut me open and bled me dry. I’d always suspected Chase had never truly wanted me, even when we were together. I was like a stress ball. Something he played with absentmindedly while his thoughts drifted elsewhere. I remembered feeling acutely unseen whenever he looked at me. The way he huffed when he took in my quirky dresses. The side-eyes he awarded me with, which made me feel just a tad less attractive than a circus monkey. “I don’t want my father leaving this world when it’s in chaos. Mom. Katie. Me. It’s too much. You can relate, can you not?”
Mom.
Hospital bed.
Scattered letters.
My hollow, aching heart that never quite recovered from losing her.
I felt my resolve chipping, one crack at a time, until finally, the layer of ice I’d coated myself with when I’d let Chase into my apartment fell with a soundless clank, like a warrior ridding themselves of their armor. He remembered our conversation all those months ago, when I’d told him my mother had died in the same month my father had filed for bankruptcy for their business, Iris’s Golden Blooms, and I’d failed a semester. She’d left the world worried and anxious for her loved ones.
The fact she hadn’t gone peacefully still gnawed at me every single night.
It didn’t matter that I’d ended up graduating from high school with honors and even gotten a partial scholarship for college, or that Dad had gotten back on his feet and our flower shop had thrived afterward. It always felt like Iris Goldbloom was stuck in the limbo of that hellish period in our lives, forever waiting to see if we’d pull through.
As much as I loathed Chase Black for what he’d done to me, I wasn’t going to force another calamity on his family in the form of a canceled engagement party. But I wasn’t going to play by his rules either.
“Where did your family think I was for the past six months? Wasn’t it weird to them that I haven’t been around?”
Chase shrugged, unfazed. “I’m running a company that’s richer than some countries. I told them we were seeing each other on evenings.”
“And they bought it?”
He flashed me a sinister grin. Of course they had. Chase had the uncanny ability to sell anxiety to a new bride.
I grumbled. “Fine. What happens when we finally break up?”
“Leave it to me.”
“Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” It sounded like a horrible plan. Straight-to-cable rom-com material. But I knew Chase to be a serious guy. He nodded.
“My mother and sister would be disappointed but not crushed. Dad wants me happy. Moreover—I want him to be happy. At any cost.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic, and frankly, it was the one thing Chase had over me. My sympathy to his situation.