Page 27 of Personal Escort

“This is your chance to tell me this is just too crazy.”

He gives me a long, studied look, then shakes his head. “I like your brand of crazy.”

“You’re the only one.”

“Ben and Elana love you.”

“I know. And Nana does, too. But there’s a difference between love and like. And none of themgetme, so how can theylikeme?”

“Well, I get you. And I think you’re doing what you’ve gotta do. Don’t overthink it. You’ll have a quickie fake wedding, a quickie fake annulment, and buy yourself a few more months of… okay this plan is crazy.” He set his elbows on the table and leans in toward the camera. “Jesus, Cara, just tell your grandmother the truth.”

“No.”

“The risk analysis is terrible.”

“Don’t bring your business acumen to this conversation, Toby Hunt. That’s not what I like about you.” I’m lying. I like everything about him. “Come on. We’ve been over this. There’s zero chance I’m actually going to get married any time soon. That would require dating, which isn’t on my agenda in any way, shape, or form.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long, agonizing set of beats. It feels like a minute, at least, and a minute of silence is a long freaking time. “So if this isn’t a business plan, then what is it?” he finally asks.

“I just want… to be normal, in my Nana’s eyes. For a while. And yeah, the fake marriage isn’t going to work out, but that will be my fake husband’s fault. I’ll have given it a go.”

“A fake go.”

“Yeah.” God, it sounds pathetic, and a weird ache swells inside me. I blink hard, desperate not to ruin our cyber-brunch with tears.

I have never wanted my sister’s insane life. A husband with a crazy job, four boys under the age of ten. A career of her own. A constantly revolving set of household staff to support their crazy home life.

My parents had a weird marriage, too. And now they’re divorced and re-married, my father three times over. Nana had hated that so much, she’d cut him out of the company.

I sigh heavily. Well, my fake divorce is likely to cure her of wanting me on the board.

“Cara?”

I snap my attention back to the iPad on the table. “I drifted there.”

“Are you okay?”

“Totally fine. Now that you’re done with the shareholder meeting, what’s next for Starfish Instrumentation?”

The question is forced, and far too bright, but Toby accepts yet another change of subject from me. “Bah. You don’t want to hear about that.”

I pick up my fork and stab at my breakfast. “No, I really do.” I take a deep breath and give him a smile as I lift my gaze back up. “There’s nothing I’d rather talk about right now.”

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

TOBY

I’M in our production lab the following weekend when Cara texts me. She’s gone to New York to have tea with her grandmother, their monthly ritual.

Cara: Nana asked me if I could see Alex being the one.

Toby: What did you say?

Cara: I asked her if she meant the first of many, and she laughed.

Toby: That’s not an answer.

Cara: I know.

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