What good perspective would do, Natalie didn’t know.
But she said, “I’ll think about it.” She even considered asking her mother about good places to go. Laura had taken some trips by herself and with friends after Clayton had walked out.
She’d picked up the pieces of her life and made a new one.
She was a perfect role model. Natalie knew she could do worse than emulate her mother.
She would emulate her mother.
She just needed a little more time.
She was glad she’d invited her mother to dinner, though she hedged a bit when Laura suggested they do it again next week at her apartment.
“You come over here,” Natalie said, not wanting to risk any chance of seeing Christo. “You almost never come here.”
“I’m here now,” Laura pointed out. “And if you come to me we can walk on The Strand afterwards. I’m trying to walk at least two miles a day. Part of my keeping-fit regimen.”
“Maybe,” Natalie said. “I’ll see.”
But when her mother mentioned it again as she was leaving, Natalie didn’t commit herself. “We’ll talk about it next week,” she said as she walked her mother out to her car.
It was a cool night for early August. It never got especially cool as far inland as Natalie lived. But at the beach it might even be sweater weather. Her mother pulled one on before she got into her car, then turned to give Natalie a kiss.
“Thank you so much for dinner. And for taking care of Herbie—and Christo—while I was gone.”
Natalie smiled. “Glad to do it.”
“Hope they weren’t too much trouble.”
Natalie shook her head. “No trouble at all.”
Not the cat, anyway. Memories of the man were destroying her peace of mind. But Laura would never ever know that. She would simply believe that Christo had needed help and Natalie had stepped into the breach.
When her mother left, Natalie went back inside and wished she had the table to clear and the dishes to do.
But Laura had insisted on helping her with them. So the kitchen was now spic and span, and Natalie had yet another empty evening stretching in front of her.
If she sat down to read, her mind wandered in directions she didn’t want. And if she watched television, it was even worse. She caught up on all her paperwork from Rent-a-Wife, but it took her no time at all to fill out the online schedule for the rest of the week. She made all the phone calls to confirm tomorrow’s assignments, and even rang Sophy to make sure she’d covered everything.
“You need counseling,” Sophy told her severely. “Or a ticket to the far ends of the earth.”
Natalie didn’t reply to that, though there were times the far ends of the earth seemed damned appealing. She just said good-night and hung up, then glanced at her watch, wishing it were later, wishing she were more tired, wishing she would stop having every other thought be about Christo Savas.
The quick sharp rap on her front door came as a welcome surprise.
She didn’t know many of her neighbors, but occasionally one appeared needing to borrow sugar or an apple or a blender.
Now she opened the door, eager for the distraction—and stared.
It was Christo.
THE mere sight of him caused her heart to leap, proving that for all that she might have been telling herself that things were getting better and that she was getting over him, the truth was, she wasn’t over him in the least.
“Christo?” She gripped the door so hard her fingers hurt.
“I need to talk to you.” He didn’t smile. He looked, in fact, positively grim.
She didn’t want to let him in. It would only be harder when he left again. But she was supposed not to care, she reminded herself. So she stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in. Sit down.”
He came in. He didn’t sit down. He cracked his knuckles, paced a bit.
Natalie didn’t say anything. He’d sit down if he wanted. He jammed his hands in his pockets and faced her.
“I have a favor to ask. A business proposition, I guess you’d say.”
Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Business?”
“Rent-a-Wife,” he said. “That’s what you do, right? Only I don’t need a wife. I need…a fiancée.” He met her gaze squarely. “You.”
Natalie gaped at him. “I don’t think so,” she managed before he cut her off.
“Hear me out. My father’s getting married.” He started to pace a bit again. “To make my grandmother happy.”
“What?”
“My grandmother is ill. Dying.” He seemed to force the word past his lips, and Natalie could see how shaken he looked as he said it. “She didn’t tell me. He did.” He sounded angry now. “Called me yesterday and dropped the whole thing on me. Her…illness. His wedding.” He raked fingers through his hair. “It’s to make her happy.”
“His wedding? I’m not sure weddings are supposed to make other people happy,” she ventured. “Except coincidentally, perhaps.”
“Well, it’ll make my grandmother happy. She thinks he needs to settle down. So he is.” Christo shook his head. “And I have to be there. I’m the ‘best man,’” he added, his tone twisting the words derisively.
She could see how much the prospect thrilled him. It was a mockery of everything he professed to believe. But then so was his “business proposal.”
“What’s the fiancée thing got to do with it?” Natalie asked.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Because she wants the same thing for me. Settling down. Marriage.” He looked positively hunted. “And if I don’t show up with someone in line for exactly that, she’ll feel like she has to throw every damn eligible woman in Brazil at me!”
“Let her,” Natalie suggested.
“No. She’ll want it too much…” His words trailed off, but Natalie thought she understood the implications.
“And you’re afraid you’ll marry someone to make her happy.”
He didn’t answer, but she had an inkling of how devoted he was to his grandmother. And if his father was marrying to please her, it wasn’t impossible to imagine Christo doing the same.
“If you come with me, I won’t have to,” he said now. As if it were up to her to prevent the disaster of matrimony.
“No,” Natalie said. “It would be wrong.”
“It isn’t wrong, damn it!” he countered, eyes blazing. “It’s not wrong to want her to have peace of mind.”
“It would be a lie.”
“We don’t have to lie.”
“You said you wanted to hire me to be your fiancée! That’s a lie.”
“Fine. I’ll propose. You say yes. And we can call it off when we get back!”
She stared at him, dumbstruck.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Just an…arrangement.” He