Chapter 1.
I looked away from the bed and busied myself unpacking my clothes. I would've been happy to live out of a suitcase, but I didn't want Ethan to think I was messy. Plus, maybe unpacking would help calm my racing thoughts about this whole situation.
"You can use the bathroom first," he offered, a hint of awkwardness slipping into his voice. "I'll just… shower in the morning if that's all right."
"Sure," I agreed, a little too quickly, practically diving into the bathroom. After changing into my pajamas—a loose tank top and soft shorts, something comfortable and completely non-romantic—I emerged, trying to be as casual as possible.
Ethan had found a spare blanket and pillow and had arranged his makeshift bed on the couch like some sort of domestic camping trip. He'd changed into a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, looking more approachable than I'd ever seen him.
Who would've thought Ethan King could look so... normal? And maybe even more attractive without all the CEO polish, but I wasn't going to let myself think about that.
"Nice couch," I said, trying to lighten the mood.
He glanced over at his new ‘bed,’ chuckling. "Yeah, I think it's got potential."
I climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, and he settled into his couch arrangement, adjusting the pillow behind his head.
After a few more moments, he spoke up again. "So… you ever been married?"
The question threw me off, but I answered anyway. "No. Had one serious relationship, but it didn't exactly end with a white dress and a cake."
"What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I hesitated, the memories of that relationship feeling like old scars I usually tried to ignore. "He lied. About everything, it seemed—his job, his family, even stupid stuff. At first, I thought it was nerves, or maybe he just wanted to impress me, but it became… chronic. I finally realized I couldn't build anything with someone I couldn't trust."
Ethan was quiet, absorbing my words. "I'm sorry you went through that."
"It's okay. I got something out of it—a solid policy that honesty comes first. I'd rather face an ugly truth than live with a pretty lie." The irony of saying this while literally pretending to be married wasn't lost on me.
He let out a low whistle. "I respect that. Honestly, I do. I guess I can relate to that.”
"Really?" I rolled onto my side, surprised. "Someone who keeps Forbes in circulation and probably has a yacht somewhere has trouble finding love?"
He laughed, but there was an edge to it. "Well, you'd be amazed how often money attracts the wrong kind of attention. There's this… 'screen,' almost. It's hard to know if someone sees me or just what I represent."
"Sounds exhausting.”
"It is," he admitted, sounding almost relieved to say it. "That's why work makes sense to me. It's straightforward. I know what's expected, what the goals are. People… I haven’t really figured them out yet.”
“I haven’t even bothered trying. I just know the people I like to be around and pretty much ignore the rest.” In the dimness, I could just make out his form shifting on the couch, turning toward me.
“What about this so far? Has it been as hard as you thought?"
“Of course it’s hard. I don’t really lie to people on a daily basis.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“I’m sorry, but not all of it feels fake. I feel we have a certain… dynamic. I enjoy your company a lot more than I expected."
There was a beat of silence, one that felt charged in a way that had nothing to do with pretending. My heart was doing that stupid flutter thing again, and I needed a distraction fast. That's when I spotted a small box tucked away on a shelf nearby and, without thinking, blurted, "Hey! Is that a deck of cards?"
Ethan followed my gaze, then smirked. "Are you suggesting we play poker on a Friday night in the middle of nowhere?"
"I'm suggesting we do something other than dwell on our awkward... situation," I replied, throwing the covers off and grabbing the cards. I plopped down on the floor, cross-legged, and gestured for him to join me. "Come on, Mr. King. Let's see if you're as lucky with cards as you are with business deals."
He rolled his eyes, but with an amused smile, he slid off the couch and settled across from me. "Alright, but fair warning: I'm highly competitive."
We started with a simple game of Go Fish, which quickly turned into us trying to psyche each other out, calling random cards and half-bluffing. The banter flowed easily, with Ethan throwing out dramatic ‘poker faces’ that only made me laugh harder.
"You look like you're planning a corporate takeover," I teased.
"Old habits die hard," he replied, mock-seriously. "It's about strategy, Maya. You have to analyze your opponent's weaknesses."
"Oh yeah?" I gave him a challenging look. "Well, my strategy involves distracting you until you lose track of the game."
He chuckled, and for a second, I felt like we were just two people, goofing around with a deck of cards. No pretense, no pretending—just a surprisingly fun night with someone who didn't feel like a stranger anymore. Someone who, if I was being honest with myself, I was starting to like way more than I should.
After a few rounds, we decided to call it quits, still laughing as we put the cards away. "Thanks for that,” I said, feeling lighter than I had in ages.
He nodded, his expression softening. "Anytime. I didn't think I'd enjoy a game of Go Fish quite so much."
I shrugged. "See, that's the beauty of not overthinking things. Sometimes, a simple game is all you need."
As we returned to our respective ‘beds,’ the lightness lingered, and as I settled in, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this whole pretend marriage thing was something I was going to miss. Which was exactly the kind of dangerous thought I needed to avoid.
