Page 20 of Her Billion Dollar Groom

“You might notneedthem,” I say, “but don’t you think yours are a little…” I don’t finish the sentence. The words escape me. I can’t think of a nice enough way to describe how the square frames look awkward against his face, how they magnify his dark eyes too much.

He would look so much more handsome if he found some glasses that really suited his face.

“For me?” I pout.

He’s remarkably resistant to my girlish charm, but even a stubborn man like him can’t resist it forever. “I’m not buying anything,” he says, but the second we step into the shop, I know I’ve got him.

A specialist comes over, but I wave her away. Clothes are one thing, but this is something Jason feels sensitive about. This is something I want to help him with personally.

We head over to the designer frames, and I pick a couple out. “Try these,” I say, handing him a pair. They’re sleek and masculine, the corners rounded, the arms not too thick, not too thin.

He sighs, then takes his own glasses off, squinting as he puts my suggested pair on. They’re not quite right, but they’re better. He shakes his head, unhappy with them. I know that the perfect pair exists in this store, so I force him to try on a few more, despite his protests. Then, just as I’m giving up hope, we strike gold.

I gasp in joy when I see him squinting in displeasure at me.

“Eureka!” I grin. “Let me take a picture so you can see.” I whip out my phone and snap an image before he can protest. As the shutter closes, I take a second to really revel in the new Jason before me. I made him keep one of his new shirts on, and though he’s still holding himself awkwardly, when he gives in and smiles for my camera, these new frames do something magical to his face.

They transform him. No longer is he a weird nerd. Now he’s an entrepreneur, a businessman, hip and cool, smart and handsome. Before, I thought he was kind of cute, but seeing him like this… he takes my breath away.

Like this, I notice the strong lines in his face, the warmth of his eyes. He’s irresistible, and for this moment, he’s my perfect husband. I smile, lingering even after I take the photo to make him keep standing there.

I can’t freeze this moment in time forever, but I can keep this picture. I can keep this small part of him.

CHAPTER 13

JASON

“Babe, can I speak with you?” Eliza asks, tapping me on the shoulder. I turn to face her and nod slowly.

Now’s not really the time for her nonsense, but I don’t want to go in front of the cameras any more than I think she does. Unfortunately for both of us, part of this deal we made was publicity, so that means photo shoots and interviews, journalists and TV cameras and fake smiles.

We agreed together that we would spend the first week of our marriage getting comfortable with the situation, then hit the ground running in week two, full of stories to tell and lies to weave. The idea had sounded so good last week, but now faced with the idea of daytime TV, I don’t think any amount of makeup can hide my nervous sweat.

Eliza is wearing a hot pink jumpsuit, the legs of the pants flaring around her ankles, the neckline plunging down her chest to show off her not-so-subtle cleavage. Her eye makeup matches it perfectly, the eyeshadow striking. But despite how bold the look is, she’s pulling it off.

She leads me off to a secluded corner, then under her breath, says, “We’ve got our story straight, don’t we?”

“What do you mean? What story?”

“About how we met? We can’t look stupid on TV. I’ll never live it down.”

“No,” I say softly, realizing that she’s right. “We can’t.”

I’ve told various publishers about our story, but we’ve never done an interview together. We’ve never had to coordinate the lie.

“We met for the first time a few months ago,” I say. “But I didn’t think much of it because you were going out with what’s his name, football guy.”

“Mike.” She sighs. “Exactly.”

“Whatever. But then at the awards show we bumped into each other and hit it off. We realized that it was love at first sight and decided, what the hell, let’s take the plunge. Let’s commit.”

“Are you sure that doesn’t sound ridiculous?” She bites her lip, nervously shifting her weight from stilettoed foot to stilettoed foot.

I frown. “What do you mean? It’s what we’ve been saying all along.”

“I know, but saying it for some online blog is one thing. People will be watching this live.”

“Isn’t this what celebrities are supposed to do?” I ask, making a weak joke. “Get married too fast and have a showy divorce later?”

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