Page 12 of Curious
He bites his lip, then grimaces. So heisstill hurting where Evan hit him, which makes me want to do things to put his ex in as much pain as I’m in. Or more. “Don’t be so stubborn. You know there are options.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But won’t they require a physical or have a waiting period? And this is now a preexisting condition, so I don’t know if it would be covered.”
“I wish I could just get you on my insurance,” Shelby says. “It covers preexisting conditions. We have a terrific plan. Noah and August made sure of it. I think it’s because they do so many extreme sports, they wanted to make sure they were covered for everything imaginable—and because they’re such good guys, they wanted all their employees to have the same benefit.”
“That does sound nice.”
“It’s going to be open enrollment in the fall …”
“But I’m not your dependent or part of your family.”
“Maybe you could sign up through Reyna or Charlie.”
“I don’t think you can include siblings. I’m not sure. I think it’s only spouses and children.”
“Spouses?” Shelby looks me straight in the eye. “Then marry me.”
CHAPTER4
Shelby
Camden gapes at me.
“What?” I say, defensively. “If you were my spouse, you’d have health insurance.”
He blinks. “You know I’m straight, right?”
“I didn’t mean we have to have sex. Or is it that you don’t like the idea—”
“I’ll cut you off right there,” he says. “Of course I’m a total ally. That’s not the issue. I just didn’t think you’d want to be married to a straight guy, on top of me being someone you barely know. What if you meet someone? How will you explain…” Cam gestures between us.
I put a hand on my hip. “It’s not like they’re lining up around the block to date me.” I scrub my face. “Look, no pressure. But if we get married, we can enroll you right away and you can get your injury treated. And then in a few months, when you’re healed and you can get your own health insurance, we can divorce. By the new year, we’ll have gone our separate ways.”
Cam sighs and pinches his nose. “I can’t believe I’m actually contemplating saying yes to this, but, to be totally candid, I’m not doing so well. When the doctor told me it was fractured, you know, it wasn’t a surprise. I figured as much. I broke an arm as a kid, and this is about the same level of pain.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He waves away my concern. “It wasn’t your fault.” Which I suppose is true, but it’s also true that if not for me, he wouldn’t have a broken ankle right now. “Anyway,” he says, “if we do this, what are we going to tell people? I mean, you’re still going to want to date, right? I guess we can say we’re in an open relationship.” He studies me.
“I … Hmm. No. After Evan, I’m taking an extended break from dating.”
“Okay, then if the marriage isn’t going to last long anyhow, we’re probably good on that count. But there’s more than that to consider. When you get married, there are rules about assets and who owns what.”
“I don’t have any assets other than a bank account that pretty much covers my monthly bills, so we don’t need a prenup. At least not for me. I won’t ask for anything of yours, but I know a lawyer or two—and so do you—if you want to have them draft something.”
Cam chuckles mirthlessly. “I’m mortgaged to the hilt.” Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this. Okay, so no prenup. But I’ll definitely pay for the increase in your insurance premium.”
“Or just count it as my rent? I mean, the cost difference has to be cheaper than rent, so maybe I’m getting a bargain. I don’t mind paying additional rent over that.”
“No,” he says. “Let me see how much you’re talking about, but I’m sure whatever it costs is fine as rent. And you can stay as long as you need to.”
My heart starts to beat a little faster. Are we doing what I think we’re doing? I mean, it was my idea, but I always thought that getting married would be a bigger deal than calmly discussing it in the living room with someone I’m not even dating.
Something inside me aches for Cam. He must really be in a lot of pain. I can’t see him agreeing to an arrangement like this unless he were desperate. I wish I could reassure him that it’ll be okay. I’m happy to help him, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. We can do this as long as we need to, and when it’s done, it’s done.
I know a thing or two about someone keeping a promise just long enough to satisfy an obligation. Talk to my mother. Or, more to the point, look at the card in the bottom of the pool house dresser drawer that reminds me not to get my hopes up.
“I’m good with it,” I say. “With or without an agreement. I’ll marry you. Let’s go.”
