The sun was shining brightly into my office, on what would otherwise look like a good day. But something was weighing heavily on my mind. Something was wrong. I couldn’t put a finger on it, and I went through countless amounts of paper work to find it. Nothing. Hmm.

I ran a hand through my thick hair, and then down my trim stomach. At least I was fortunate enough to still have these physical attributes, I thought, trying to cheer myself up.

Maybe this success just had me feeling cautious. It wasn’t all that long ago that I’d been in a car accident and then a fucking coma, after all— and at one point the doctors didn’t think I was going to make it. I ended up proving them wrong, but when I came out I was barely able to walk again for a long time.

Now I was a wealthy business man with my own company that specialized in business consultation with a touch of tech qualities. We were owning the market, and it was a growing one, too.

It only made sense that I would be questioning my success, after my near death. I had to remind myself that everything was going just fine. More than fine, in fact. Things were going fucking great.

Benson, my business partner and friend, was great at the consultation part of the business, and I was good at the finance part. After I had received the money from my injury years ago, I put it to good use.

Of course, that was all done with some help from Willow’s new husband.

“Sam!” Benson sang, swinging into the door, his jacket swaying around much like his tie. I leaned back in my chair, amused at his happiness. “Sam, I got the best news ever, we just struck it big, we struck it big!” he sung again.

He did a small dance over to my small liquor cabinet and pulled out the best whiskey I had, followed by two shot glasses.

“It has to be good if you’re cracking open the whiskey at noon,” I said, leaning onto my desk. I studied him closely. He was more than happy, he was elated, on cloud nine. This meant one thing with Benson: the promise of money. A shit load of it.

“What is it? Anticipation is fatal these days,” I said, grinning.

Benson slid the two shot glasses onto my desk and sloshed the brown sour liquid into them. The smell quickly wafted up and a flash went through my head.

“Why do I drink such evil liquid? The man who hit me was drunk…?”

“Drink up, old pal. We’re rich as hell now!” Benson exclaimed, downing his shot.

I pushed mine aside, swallowing at the haunted thoughts that still followed me ever since the car crash. Benson raised a brow and reached for it.

“More for me.” He downed the shot and sat back with a wider smile than any I’d ever seen on him. Anymore and he was going to break his own damn face.

“Now out with it. What’s with the good mood?” I asked, glancing at the clock and my computer for new emails. I had things to get done today but Benson appeared to be trying everything in his power to hinder those plans.

Benson leaned over in his seat. His face got serious as if he was about to tell me the world’s biggest secret. “Remember John Gallock?”

“Yes, one of the oldest billionaires in town… what about him?”

“He’s coming with us!” Benson shot out of his seat, slamming his hands on my desk. “Merging his business with ours, in the form of a bunch of contracts he’s letting us take over.”

“Coming with us? Via contracts?” I repeated. “Wait, back up. Give me the full details.” I felt myself rising out of my seat too.

Benson whipped around and pumped his fist. “A two hundred billion dollar contract is gonna be ours!” he cheered.

“Two hundred billion dollars? But you said ‘gonna’… Is he coming with us or not?”

Benson turned to me. “Yes! He’s coming in two weeks to sign it.”

I rubbed my forehead. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of me. It wasn’t like our company struggled with gaining contracts. But this was a windfall. This was going to boost our reputation and popularity wildly. This time we were going to turn down contracts because of high demand.

Wait until Willow heard about this. Both her and her husband would be ecstatic.

Only thing was… I wished that I had someone of my own to run home and tell. Benson had his girlfriend, Willow had her husband, and me? Who did I have? I was single, an eligible bachelor.

But who would want to marry a man who walked with a fucking cane? Gold diggers maybe. But I wasn’t going to be one of those lonely types who was outwardly willing to pay for company. I was starving for the real thing. However, this disability of mine was in the way. Not even good looks on my part was helping me out.

I felt my body posture slump. Benson did a double take and frowned. He already knew about my wants, too. He hardly even talked about his own relationship around me, afraid that he might insult or hurt me. Even right now, he seemed to be reading my mind.

“Sam, I know you wish you had a family to share your financial success with. But it’s gonna be okay. You’ll have a family one day. Any girl in their right mind would be happy to marry into all this money, not to mention those dashing good looks all the ladies always go on about. Your dark hair and dark eyes and toned body and blah blah blah. So, love will come. Just wait and see. In the meantime, you can always dry your tears with a big fat hundred dollar bill,” he told me, slapping me on the back.

“Yeah, but I want more than that.” I reached for my cane at the speed of a slug. Days like this that were bright and joyful weren’t all too joyful for me.

The sun shifted in the sky, casting a more saturated hue over the room than the bright white that had been here before. I had such a good view in this office. If only I had someone to share it with. I forced a smile on my face, so that Benson didn’t get too worried.

“So, two hundred billion dollars. That’s a lot. Two weeks should be enough time to—” a thought hit me… “Wait. You said John Gallock, right?” I scratched my chin. That name was familiar. I dug through my memory to see if anything would turn up.

Benson was tense, not even moving. “Yeah. Gallock. Look, don’t worry about it. He’s good for it—”

“No, I think I do remember him.” I raised my eyes to Benson. Shit. “John Gallock is that man who so-called funds one of the biggest churches in this town…”

Benson lifted up his hands and motioned for me to stop. “Come on, he isn’t—”

“And, the last I heard,” I walked over to Benson, balancing on my cane, “he only funds things where the CEOs are married. Hitched. A bright happy couple. He’s all about family values. And forcing other people to have his same values, if they want any of his money.”

Benson shot me an awkward smile. “About that…” he stammered, looking for a way out of this. Oh no. Hell no.

“Benson! What the hell did you say to that man to get him to come to us?!”

“Well, come on. There are many fine women you can grab for a quick—”

“A one-marriage-stand? Those don’t exist. That won’t work!” I yelled.

Damn it, why did he have to be so slimy sometimes? Benson was a good friend, but he was too sneaky for my liking.

“How the hell am I going to find a temporary wife?” I hissed.

Benson straightened his shoulder and exhaled. “Oh, come on. You know me well enough to know I’ve got it all figured out…”

Great. Leave it to Benson to create a problem for me, and then try to solve it. I had a feeling that whatever he had in mind for me was going to be fucking insane.