I stared at her, attempting to take everything in, because I couldn’t believe she was here. In my house. Even more disbelieving was that she’d come to ask me for a divorce…so she could marry someone else.

The thought made me sick. My stomach did flip-flops while I regarded her, taking note of her honey-colored hair, so much longer than it used to be. I could still remember how it smelled when she’d leaned against my shoulder while watching a movie together. The more I observed her, the more lost I became in her presence. Even though the sight of her made my stomach ache less, it made my chest ache even more.

She wore her hair styled in loose curls, pinned away from her face. I always loved her hair pulled back because her eyes seemed so much bigger when they weren’t hidden. The dark kohl lining the edges brought attention to the subtle explosions of caramel in the vibrant blue. The golden webs stretching toward the dark rims of the irises nearly hypnotized me. It was hard to take my attention off the eyes I’d spent so many years looking into, but the splatter of freckles along the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks brought my focus to her fiery complexion, which reminded me that the woman in front of me was fuming.

“You can’t deny me a divorce.” Her cheeks flamed with the same anger lighting her wide eyes and causing her pink bottom lip to tremble. Janelle had always been so transparent—well, most of the time. Turned out that wasn’t the case when she had too much to drink. “You can’t force me to stay married to you—especially when I didn’t even know we were married in the first place.”

I struggled against the grin threatening to split my lips. I had no idea where this need to fight came from, but it was a powerful one. It wasn’t like I had some sort of vendetta against her for anything, or a desire to piss her off, but for some reason, I couldn’t seem to stop. Probably because she came here and demanded I give her what she wanted. And had it been anything other than a divorce…I probably would’ve done it.

“I may not be able to force you to stay with me, but I can certainly drag this process out for years and exhaust a good portion of your twenties, as well as your bank account.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” she argued, though her voice sounded more like begging.

And that’s when I knew I had her. I confidently reclaimed my seat across from her and stated smugly, “Watch me.”

With a renewed sense of defiance, she crossed her arms over her chest, bringing my attention to her perfect breasts, the same ones I found myself still dreaming of years later. “Oh, yeah? And how do you plan on explaining this to Matthew? Huh? I’m sure he and the rest of my family won’t be too pleased to find out you married me five years ago, after getting me drunk, and now you’re refusing to grant me a divorce despite the strained relationship we’ve had since the night in question.”

Giving in, I laughed. I tilted my head back and released a hearty chuckle, deep, from the pit of my stomach. Janelle had always been the baby. She always seemed to get whatever she wanted from anyone, which was why when Matt and I wanted something from his parents, we’d always send in Janelle to ask. And as much as it pained me to admit it, she always got what she wanted from me, as well. This may have been the first time she didn’t bat her long, dark eyelashes and walk away the victor.

I refused to give in on this one.

“I see you’re already practicing your legal jargon, Jelly?” That was meant to be condescending. Her entire family called her “Jelly,” which she’d always hated, and I knew that. Anytime I had ever used it, it had been meant as more of an insult than an endearment. And I could tell by the way she squinted her eyes at me that she knew it, too. “Listen, if you can’t afford a lawyer, then maybe you shouldn’t push this. I don’t suggest representing yourself. There’s a reason officers of the court go through so much schooling. Not to mention…are you really prepared to tell your family all about the drunken night you don’t remember? I can’t imagine you’d be eager to let them know specific details, but hey…if you want them to know, I’d be more than happy to fill them in on the parts you don’t remember—oh, wait…that’s everything.”

“I don’t get it, Holden. Why? Why would you fight this? It’s not like we’ve been together this whole time or have some fairytale romance. We’ve never dated. We had sex once—”

“Four times,” I corrected, making sure she had the right information.

“Four times?” She rolled her eyes and waved me off before plopping down onto the couch across from me. “Regardless, it was one night. But if saying it was four times makes you feel better, then okay, you win. We had sex four times, and I can’t remember a single one of them. What does that say about your performance?” Her claws were out. And it’d be a lie if I said those grazes didn’t hurt. “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to signing these papers so we can put an end to this.”

“I’m not signing them because I refuse to allow you to marry a guy you met two months ago.”

“So you’re saying if he were someone I’ve been dating for the last however many years, you’d have no problem granting me a divorce? You just want to be stubborn and act like some overprotective big brother? Well, guess what? I already have one of those, and you’re not him.”

I swallowed harshly and licked my lips, needing the extra time to rein in my thoughts and feelings regarding this whole situation. When I first opened the door and saw her standing there, I couldn’t deny the way my heart had slammed against my ribcage at the mere sight of her. For a second—a millisecond—I thought she had come back. To me. Then I’d noticed the rigidness of her posture, the way she’d clenched her hands into fists, and the tightness of her lips. That’s when it dawned on me that there was no way she had remembered anything, and even less of a chance that she had returned to me.

Then I’d reminded myself I didn’t want her.

“This is pathetic, Holden.” She dropped the envelope onto the coffee table. “You don’t know him. You know nothing about my relationship with him, so you don’t get to have an opinion. You don’t get to have a say-so regarding my life—the one you’ve been estranged from for the last five years. You’ve shown no interest in me over the entirety of our marriage, so you’ve lost every right you’ve ever had to have input in what I do.”

I absolutely hated how she had placed all the blame in my lap for what had happened all those years ago. As if she had nothing to do with any of it. Aside from briefly seeing her a few times while she was in town after she left for college, no, I hadn’t seen or spoken to her. But that wasn’t all my fault. She was the one who took off. She tucked her tail and ran. Granted, I didn’t chase after her, but then again, that had been the deal. Standing on the strip in Las Vegas, that’s what we had agreed upon. So really, I stuck to the plan. It wasn’t my fault she couldn’t remember it—or the existence of one.

“What’s his name?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Connor.”

“Last name.”

She blinked a few times, and I knew immediately that she had no idea what the douchebag’s last name was. Once again, she couldn’t hide anything from me, and I began to doubt the reality of this guy. For all I knew, this was nothing but a ploy to make me sign the papers.

“Don’t lie to me, Janelle.” No matter how righteous I felt right now, knowing I had the upper hand, I couldn’t seem to hide the doubt and festering anger from taking over. They riddled everything from my stern words and raspy voice to the sudden rigidness in my spine, giving away how I truly felt. “Is there even a guy, and if so, who is he really? And are you seriously marrying him?”

“I told you…his name is Connor, and yes, we’re trying to get married, but there’s this tiny little problem preventing us from doing so.” Using two fingers, she slid the envelope across the table, closer to me. “If you’ll just sign these, I’ll get out of your way, and you won’t ever have to deal with me again. This little mishap will be behind us, and we can both move on with our lives as if that night in Vegas never happened.”

I tried to swallow, but it was as if my esophagus refused to work. My breathing hiccupped in my lungs, and I had to force myself to not rub the center of my chest, where it felt as though I had been hit with a professional curve ball. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if my heart skipped a few beats—or a hundred.

Rather than speak right away, I stared at the envelope in hopes of hiding my reaction from her. I abhorred the notion of Janelle marrying this guy—or any other guy—yet I couldn’t figure out why. She hadn’t been in my life, and it wasn’t like I’d lived the last five years in limbo, waiting for her, so I couldn’t decipher why this bothered me so much.

Once I felt confident that I had my reaction under control, I lifted my gaze and held her stare. “I’m not about to give you what you want just so you can run off and marry some loser you don’t even know. Why are you marrying him, anyway? Are you pregnant? Did the fucker knock you up? Is that what’s going on?” The second the idea of her being pregnant with that asshole’s bastard child came up, I about lost it. My face flamed with unimaginable heat, and my forehead felt so tight it ached.

“Again…you know nothing about it.”

“So tell me about it. Make me understand.”

“I don’t have to.” She tilted her head defiantly to the side, and after a moment of us both doing nothing but staring at the other, she started to laugh. “We aren’t five, Holden. This is ridiculous. We somehow managed to get married while both under the influence, and for reasons I still don’t comprehend, you’ve kept that a secret from me. We haven’t once, since our drunken vows, lived as husband and wife. We haven’t shared a single thing…not even a conversation. So what’s there to fight for? Tax breaks for technically being married? Find someone else. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“Do you love him?” Raw pain hung in my voice, but I couldn’t waste the energy to care. If it worked in my favor, I’d take it. “Just tell me the truth. That’s all I ask.”

“No.” She dropped her chin and took a deep breath. “I’ve spent the last two months on a beach in Jamaica.”

“He’s Jamaican?” I flew out of my chair, shock heightening my voice.

Without hesitation, she laughed. It was real and honest and flowed so effortlessly from her. The kind of laughter I used to crave when she was around. The kind that embedded itself inside until your lips curled and humor bubbled out, even when you had no idea what was so funny.

And that’s exactly what happened now.

When she glanced up at me, realizing I now laughed with her, she shook her head. Humor lightened her tone when she said, “No, he’s not, so you can stop worrying about it being some ploy for him to get his green card. The truth is, we were both there for a reality dating show.”

The shock of her confession forced me back a step. I didn’t want to believe it, because the Janelle I knew wasn’t desperate enough to stoop that low. Not to mention, she was too smart to be one of those contestants who quickly tied the knot, thinking what they had could survive in the real world. “You met him on a dating show, and now you’re ready to rush down the aisle? You are aware of the success rate for those kinds of couples, aren’t you?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” She bit her lip and shrugged. “It’s more of a game show than anything. Basically, we each won five thousand dollars, but before they gave us the money, we were given the chance to exchange what we won for ten times the amount.”

“This sounds like a fucked-up version of Let’s Make a Deal.” I groaned and rolled my neck, desperate for some of this tension in my shoulders to be relieved. “Fifty thousand dollars, huh? What’s the catch?”

“Well, to get that, we have to get married. They needed our answer immediately, and once we gave it, we couldn’t take it back. So of course, we traded the small check for the set of rings, all so we could walk away with more money. Only problem is…as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, I can’t get married to him because I’m legally married to you.”

“And that’s why you want a divorce.” It wasn’t voiced as a question, but I still sought an answer anyhow. More like a confirmation. Something to go on.

“Yes. We have one year to follow through—otherwise, we both lose it all. And, Holden, I really need this money. I just graduated college, and I’m getting ready to start my life, make something of myself. This money will go so far in helping me reach my goal.”

With a deep breath, I fell into the recliner again and waited for it to stop rocking before locking my gaze on hers. I knew what she was doing, playing up the sympathy card. Normally, this would’ve worked, but now that I knew the real reason she wanted this, I couldn’t find it in me to give it to her. “So you get fifty grand, and I lose my tax status. Doesn’t seem like a very fair tradeoff, Jelly.”

Her instant show of irritation proved me right. “Fine…I’ll give you five grand of it. But I can’t go more than that. I need every penny of this money. I want to start my own business, and this would allow me a solid head start without so much debt.”

“Five thousand dollars?” I pinned her with my stare, letting her know without so many words how ridiculous that offer was—I’d never accept it. Then again, she probably could’ve offered me the entire amount, and I still would’ve turned it down. This wasn’t about the money. Never was, never would be. “You’re gonna have to sweeten the pot a lot more than that if you want me to sign those papers. You said you have a year? How about this…you give me six months.”

“For what?” She balked. “You just want me to wait six months? Why? Oh…” Her mouth opened into the shape of a perfect, pink O, and she raised her brows, as if suddenly realizing something. “You need to wait until next year so you can keep the tax status for this year. Okay, fine. Deal.”

She accepted entirely way too fast, which only made me hungry to sweeten the pot. I never would’ve let her go for simply waiting a few months. But her naiveté made me laugh. “No. I want a wife. Legally, you already are. All I’m asking is for it to be real for the next six months. You do that, and I’ll sign. I won’t contest a thing. It’ll be a clean break—you go your way and I go mine. No fight, no court, just two adults dissolving a marriage.”

Her perfectly arched top lip quirked in disgust. “You want me to be your whore for six months? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She hurriedly grabbed her purse and attempted to make a swift exit, but I was faster. I slid off the recliner for what felt like the millionth time since she’d arrived, and stood in front of her, preventing her from reaching the front door. She shoved at my chest and argued, “I’m not agreeing to that. And you’re an asshole for even suggesting it.”

“Stop.” I wrapped my fingers around her wrists and held her still, forcing her to crane her neck and meet my gaze. “I never said that. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“You said you wanted a real wife for six months.”

“Yes. I want you here. Under my roof. Living together.”

“Why?” Her question was barely a whisper, floating across my face and doing things to my insides I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with.

“Because, Janelle,” I whispered back, lowering my face close to hers. “I’m in love with you. And if I have to give you up, then I at least want something I can hold onto after you’re gone.” With my nose grazing hers, I felt her long, slow exhale billow across my face. That was the breaking point, the point I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

My lips parted and I laughed. Hard.

Janelle stepped away, ripping her arms from my grasp, and stared at me with a scorching gaze and quivering lip. Guilt immediately assuaged me, but rather than apologize for the cruel joke, I decided to offer a bit of honesty.

“Truth?” I waited for her to nod, and then continued. “You’ve missed a lot here. I get that you’ve been at school and doing your thing, but while you’ve partied it up, your family has been here battling real life.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed with a wave of the hand. “Like what? They haven’t said anything.”

“And you think I’m going to tell you? They kept certain things from you for a reason. Whether I agree with it or not doesn’t matter. None of it is truly my business, anyhow. But I can put my hand on a stack of Bibles and swear I’m not making this up. They have been dealing with one thing after another, and we’ve all been here as one unit to offer support…to anyone who’s needed it. You’re the only one who hasn’t been here, and you’ve made it very obvious you have no desire to be.”

“I’m pretty sure I would know if anything worth mentioning was going on in my family while I was away.”

I shrugged, growing rather irritated over her stubbornness. “What reason would I have to lie, Janelle?”

“Oh, gee…I don’t know, Holden. Maybe to get me to agree to your stupid deal?”

I set my hands on my hips and cocked my head, fighting back the argument I so desperately wanted to have with her. “You seriously think I would make up shit about your family to get you to live with me? You think I’m that hard up, Janelle? If I were that lonely, I could choose from a long line of women, most of whom would gladly move in.”

“And here I thought you’ve spent the last five years pining for me.” Her mock puppy-dog eyes grated on my last nerve, but she didn’t stop there. “I figured you’d be waiting for me to graduate from college and come back to you. I mean, that’s what you said earlier, right?”

“Yes, that’s what I said because that’s what the deal was. I knew it didn’t matter, though. You were drunk when we planned it and you don’t remember anything, so clearly, I wasn’t sitting around pining for you, Janelle. That was never part of the deal. I guess it was more of an unspoken understanding that our lives would go on while you went to school, but that night, we decided to go ahead and get married anyway.”

“That makes no sense. Why the hell would we get married and both be okay with each other fucking other people for five years? Not to mention, what would’ve happened if I got pregnant or you knocked someone up? Or one of us actually fell in love with someone else? Did either of us think of the possibility of any of that happening?” She practically screamed her questions, each one getting louder than the last.

I hung my head and dug my thumbs into my temples, hoping to ease the ache started by her voice, and immediately doubted my decision to have her stay here. “First of all, let’s take into account that we were both drinking that night. I think it’s a safe bet to assume neither of our logic was sound. We decided to get married for fuck’s sake. Which is pretty much the most illogical thing I’ve ever done. So, let’s go ahead and give up on wondering why we would say ‘I do’ and then turn a blind eye to either of us having sex with other people while you were gone. Maybe we thought we’d be able to carry on a long-distance relationship. Who the hell knows. But taking all that into account, I think you can see why the other questions were never brought up.”

“I’m so confused.” She threaded her fingers into her hair and then fisted her hands, gripping the strands by the roots in pure frustration. “We planned on being together? That’s what we discussed? Both of us?”

I took a moment before answering, knowing my response would give so much away, but I no longer cared. All these feelings were buried so long ago, and after her prolonged absence, I knew they’d never be uncovered. Nothing could dig them up.

“Yes. I told you that night, but since you don’t remember, I might as well explain it now. After that asshat broke up with you before prom, and we started spending more time together, I began to fall for you in ways I never expected. Ways I’m infinitely sure would have had your brother kicking my ass. But you needed me, and I very much enjoyed the feeling of being needed. We kinda grew a bond over those months, and as we stood along the strip, watching the fountain dance in front of the Bellagio, we realized it was a mutual attraction. One we thought would last forever. So, we decided to make it official, and at that time, the only obstacle in our way was college. Which is why we made the deal to begin with.”

Her posture softened, and I wondered what part had gotten to her. “Did we like…say the L word?”

“No.” I smiled and shook my head, hoping to ease her fears.

Only problem was, that had been a lie. We did use that word—several times in fact. She’d even screamed it one of the four times in bed. But that wasn’t something I wanted to throw in her face, no matter how much I wanted to get back at her. Truth be told, I didn’t even know why I was so angry with her in the first place other than her refusal to visit her family.

“If you choose to take me up on my offer and stay, you’ll have your own room, your own space. My agreement doesn’t include sex—I have no problems getting that when I need it. I just ask that you participate in things. That you spend time with your parents and siblings. Hang out with your nieces and nephew. Don’t worry about this.” I waved my hand between us. “I work all the time, so it’s not like you’ll even see me often. The six months will go by, and before you know it, you’ll be a single woman, free to marry whoever you want for any reason you’d like. And hopefully, you’ll have a stronger relationship with your family.”

“And I have your word on that?”

“Absolutely. A thousand percent.”

“And no sex?”

“None.” I cleared my throat and amended my answer. “With each other.”

She nodded and licked her lips, her gaze falling from mine. I knew I had her, but I needed to hear her say it. She had to tell me she would live with me, as my pseudo-wife, for the full amount of time I requested. “Okay, but we’ll need rules before I agree to anything.”

“Of course.” I held my hand out in a gesture for her to take a seat on the couch while I once again reclaimed my spot in the recliner. After pulling out my laptop from beneath the coffee table, I opened the lid and began to type. “All right… Over the course of the next six months, you—Janelle Brewer—will live in my house as my wife. During this time, there will be no expectations for sexual favors between either of us. What else?”

“Maybe you should add in there that you won’t bring your ‘dates’ home with you. You have to see how awkward it would be to sit in my room while you have a woman in your bed. Or how odd it’d be to introduce your piece of ass to your wife after you get done screwing.” She held my gaze the entire time she taunted me, all while a grin remained on her face.

“Well, I obviously wouldn’t want to make anything uncomfortable for you. I’ll include that I won’t bring anyone here, and the same goes for you.” I nodded at her before adding her request to the Word document I’d opened, aptly titled The Marriage Agreement. I glanced back up at her and winked. “You’ll also be pleased to know I’ve put in here that I will not flaunt or brag about my escapades, such as shooting you a text telling you I’m about to get my dick sucked.”

“Oh, how nice of you.” She may have said it with a smile, but I hadn’t seen anything faker since my last date’s set of tits. She crossed her arms and gave me a pointed stare. “Okay then. Next rule. Bills. I don’t currently have a job, and you’re stifling my ability to make money. So unfortunately, I won’t be able to contribute financially.”

My fingers tapped away at the keys, the sound filling the silence in the room. When I finished adding her requested rule, I repeated it back to her. “Okay, no paying bills. I’ve also included that items, such as food or things for the house, are also not your responsibility. You’re more than welcome to pick up anything you want from the grocery store—for you or the house in general, like milk or bread—and I’ll cover the cost.”

“And by ‘things for the house,’ you mean…”

“If you need a pillow or blanket for your bed. Or towels for the bathroom. Laundry detergent. Light bulbs. I don’t know, Janelle…anything you’d need while living here.” I was almost sure I’d regret this idea, but she’d come too far to turn back now. One thing was for sure though, the more she pushed, the harder I’d shove.

This was a war she didn’t want to get into with me.

I’d fucking win.

“Sounds good to me. Moving along now. You’re a grown man. I will not clean up after you. That means you wash your own clothes, you clean your own toilet, and make your own bed.”

“I had no intention of you being my maid, but sure, I’ll include it anyway.” Keeping my thoughts to myself, I added that to the list. Word for word. “Now, I have some rules. You are here temporarily. That means no permanent alterations to my house. I don’t care to repaint walls or patch holes left behind by some ugly-as-sin decoration you felt the need to put up. At the end of the day, this is my house. You are more than welcome to make yourself at home while you’re here. You can add pillows to the couch, move the furniture around in your room, add a DVD player to the TV, or decorate the patio with potted plants. I don’t care. Go crazy. But please, all I ask is that you don’t use my property to get back at me.”

She may have nodded, but I could tell by her meek voice that I had hurt her feelings when she asked, “Anything else?”

“That’s it. That’s all I ask of you, Janelle. I don’t want this to be like I’m holding you hostage or making you my prisoner.”

“Well, you kinda are.”

“If that’s the way you’re going to look at it, then it’s going to be a long six months. But if you treat it like a free place to stay, an extended vacation—free vacation, might I add—with a clean divorce at the end, then the time will fly by. It’s all in how you perceive it.”

“I just don’t understand your motive for this, but whatever.”

“Listen, I have my reasons for wanting you here, for not wanting to sign those papers, just like you have yours for marrying some stranger for money. There’s no point in us debating the issue further because neither of us will get it. I only hope that in six months, you’ll see for yourself why I asked for this—because if you don’t, then that means I’ve failed you and your family.”

“And when does this start?”

I closed the lid to the laptop and set it aside. “The day you move in,” I answered, sitting forward with my elbows propped on my knees, my hands hanging between my legs.

“I have a question…how are we going to explain this to my family? What’s our story?”

“Let’s come up with one. I’m sure you don’t want them knowing about Vegas, and I assume you don’t want them to find out about this dating show…right?”

“That’s correct.” She couldn’t even look me in the eye, which told me so much about the shame she felt over the fact she’d be twice divorced before she turned twenty-five. “We can just tell them you offered me a spare room for a few months while I get on my feet after college. I can just tell my mom I didn’t want to inconvenience her by moving back in.”

“Your ability to form lies is worrisome,” I mumbled with my sights locked on her.

She glanced up and caught me staring, more than likely heard my grumble, but at least she ignored it with a swift flitter of her exotic eyes. “And when’s this going to happen? When am I moving in?”

“Whenever you want. Just keep in mind I’m not signing those papers until you’ve lived here for six months. The timer doesn’t start until your things are here and you’re sleeping under this roof. But the when is completely up to you.”

“Okay. I have to sort some things out. I might have to find somewhere to store the rest of my belongings until I need them again.” She glanced around my small starter home. “I’m not sure everything will fit in here.”

I ran my hand over my face, hoping to hide the anxiety rushing through my body. Ever since Matt got married and moved out, I had lived alone, hadn’t shared my space with a single soul. Not even a dog. Especially not a girl. More importantly, a girl who would more than likely try to one up me. I needed to figure out a way to make her back down long enough to see the bigger picture.

So…I decided to kill her with kindness.

“That’s your call. If I have room here for it, you’re more than welcome to bring everything with you. I have a guestroom with a bed and dresser that has been used maybe twice when my mom came to visit. But if you’d rather have your own furniture, I can move my desk and computer out of my office. Just let me know ahead of time so I can get things rearranged, if need be.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. After we swapped phone numbers, she shoved the envelope containing the divorce papers back into her purse and left. I stood by the front door and watched her drive away, unsure of what had transpired.

I figured this idea would blow up in my face, but for the small chance things would go right, I knew I had to see it through. Her family needed her, and they meant enough to me to sacrifice my own feelings to make sure they got what they deserved.

I only hoped I would survive.