Page 13 of An American in London

“I’m sorry,” Nick says. “I was out of order. I thought it might be the perfect solution ... and I wasn’t trying to imply you were ...”

“A prostitute?” I suggest.

Nick shrugs. “It’s just like Ben says. Most things can be solved with money. We need to think of someone else, though. What about that Paula you were seeing?”

Ben gives a brief shake of his head, and Nick doesn’t push it. I focus on the cod. The sauce is really salty, but I’m not that hungry, and I don’t want to upset anyone by complaining. I eyed some cashews in the minibar in my room. I’ve been wanting an excuse to open them.

“What about her friend Rosemary?”

Ben’s jaw tightens. “No.” He glances at me. I pull my mouth into a smile. He looks down at my plate. “You don’t like it?”

“I’m just not that hungry,” I say with a shrug.

“If none of your exes, then who?” Nick asks.

Ben beckons over the waitress, and I send up a silent prayer, hoping he’s not going to say anything more about my cod. I really hope I haven’t offended him.

“We’d like another main course. What would you prefer?” he asks, looking at me.

I smile at the waitress. “I’m fine. Really.”

“A selection of starters, then,” he says to the waitress. She nods once and disappears.

I start to apologize. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No apologies.” He turns back to Nick. “We need to come up with a different solution,” Ben says. “I’m not getting fake-engaged to anyone.”

“I’m telling you, there is no other solution, and not even transforming into the ultimate family man is a guarantee. The duke isn’t driven by logic when it comes to his hotel group. He’s entirely driven by emotion. If you’re not willing to be the man he wants to sell to, then you need to give up on your desire to own those hotels.”

“Never,” Ben says.

I try to focus on the embossed pattern on the tablecloth and my plans for the next day and the way my arm still buzzes, even though it’s been at least twenty minutes since Ben touched me. Nick and Ben continue to argue about the approach to take with the duke. I’m happy to not be included at all in their discussion. I’m not pretending to be an almost-stranger’s fiancée just so he can buy some hotel.

“Accept the invitation on my behalf,” Ben says. “And I’ll bring a plus-one.”

“Finally,” Nick says.

Well, it won’t be me,I don’t say, just as a selection of appetizers appears. “I’m planning a day trip to Stonehenge this weekend. It’s where Daniel De Luca filmed the most heartbreaking scene ever—when his wife dies inAntonia.” I wasn’t actually planning on that trip, but I happened to notice it listed on the convention roster, and it sounds plausible. Ben doesn’t seem to be listening.

“That was a terrible film,” Nick says.

Everyonethought it was a terrible film, but I still feel like I should defend it. “That movie showcased some of his greatest acting.” I take a forkful of rice studded with pine nuts and fat, green olives. It’s delicious.

“Would twenty thousand dollars be useful?” Ben says out of nowhere, and I do a cartoon gulp, visible to everyone in the restaurant.

“Are you asking ... me?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer but continues to hold my gaze in a way that might be terrifying if he wasn’t so completely attractive.

I look away because my lips begin to buzz like they’re impatient for a kiss, and I’m a little concerned I’m going to lunge at Ben. “When isn’t twenty thousand dollars useful?”

“That’s a very good point,” he says. “So would you be my fiancée for the weekend for twenty thousand dollars?”

I open my mouth but words don’t come out.

Of course I don’t want to disappoint Ben. I never want to disappoint anyone, which Melanie would tell me is both my best and worst quality. Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money. Money that’sparticularly useful to someone with no savings and an apartment in Manhattan to find and finance. But I can’t take money for ... lying. It seems wrong. And I can’t provide a girlfriend experience. Even for free. Ask Jed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

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