Chapter 2 An Offer I Just Couldn't Refuse
Harper's POV,
Maya's apartment sniffed a stench of cheap wine.
I'd been living on her couch for six weeks, existing in that strange limbo between just getting dumped and should probably figure out what comes next.
I hadn't returned to the apartment Joel and I had shared. So Maya had sent her brother to collect my essentials. Clothes, toiletries, my laptop, the box of my mother's things. Everything else could rot.
On the wooden table centered in Maya's living room, my phone buzzed constantly with messages I didn't answer.
Old friends wanting details. Joel texting from other people's phones since I'd blocked his number. Even his mother had called once, which was rich considering she'd spent ten years making it clear I wasn't good enough for her precious son.
I'd stopped showering regularly. Stopped putting on real clothes. Started binge watching entire seasons of shows just to fill the silence. Maya worked long hours at the Titans' office, leaving me alone with Netflix's autoplay function. My life was slowly becoming pathetic.
Joel's wedding invitation arrived on a Thursday.
Maya brought in the mail and dumped it on the kitchen counter while reheating leftover Thai food. I was horizontal on the couch in her oversized Titans hoodie and leggings that had been worn for three consecutive days.
"Mail's here," Maya called. "Mostly bills and credit card offers."
I grunted.
Maya appeared in the doorway with a plate of pad thai and a weird expression on her face. Something calculating that made my stomach drop.
"What?" I said.
"Interesting piece of mail." She held up a thick cream envelope. Expensive cardstock with an elegant calligraphy.
My name was spelled wrong. H-A-R-P-O-R.
"Is that..." I sat up slowly.
"Your ex-boyfriend's wedding invitation? Yes." Maya walked closer. "Addressed to you. Plus one encouraged. Black tie. Destination wedding at some resort on the Olympic Peninsula. Three months from now."
I stared at the envelope. My name, misspelled in pretty script.
"He invited me to his wedding," I said slowly. "Joel actually invited me to watch him marry someone else."
Maya pulled out the invitation and unfolded it. "Listen to this. Joel Hartley and Brianna Cross joyfully invite you to celebrate their union as they begin forever together. Forever, Harper. The man who dumped you because his agent said commitment was bad for his brand is now using the word ‘forever’."
Something cracked in my chest. Not heartbreak. I'd wrung that out weeks ago. This was rage wrapped in humiliation.
"She spelled my name wrong," I said quietly.
"I know."
"I organized his entire life for ten years. I knew his Social Security number. His mother's birthday. His coffee order at four different coffee shops. And she doesn't even know how to spell my name."
I stood up and grabbed the invitation from Maya's hand. Read it myself. The date, August 14th. The location, Serenity Resort and Spa. Accommodations provided. Reception to follow.
"He wants me to watch him marry her," I said. "Some kind of twisted closure where he proves he's moved on."
Maya was quiet for a minute. Then she said, "Or you could go."
I looked at her. "Absolutely not."
"Hear me out…"
"No. I'm not showing up to Joel's wedding like some pathetic ex-girlfriend who can't let go."
"That's exactly why you should go," Maya said. Her voice had changed to a more professional tone. This was PR-Maya. "But not alone. And not sad."
"What are you talking about?"
Maya pulled out her phone and turned the screen toward me.
It was a news article. The headline read TITANS' LAWSON SUSPENDED AFTER BAR ALTERCATION—Video Shows Player Attacking Civilian.
Below it, a photo of a man being led away by the police. Big, obviously an athlete, dark hair and an angular jaw. His expression was somewhere between furious and resigned.
"Who is that?" I asked.
"Crew Lawson. Right wing for the Seattle Titans. One of the best players in the league when he's not making my life a living hell." Maya's expression was complicated. "Also currently my biggest professional problem."
I looked at the photo again. Even in what was essentially a mugshot, there was intensity in his eyes.
"What does this have to do with Joel's wedding?"
Maya smirked. "Everything. Sit down."
I sat.
Maya pulled up another article with video embedded. "Two weeks ago, Crew was at a bar downtown. Some drunk guy was groping a woman who was trying to leave. Crew stepped in and removed him. The guy swung at Crew… he defended himself though. But the only video that went viral shows Crew's fist connecting with the guy's face. No context. Now the media is calling him a violent thug. His endorsements are dropping. The team is furious. One more incident and his career is over."
"That's terrible," I said. "But what does this have to do with me?"
Maya leaned forward. "Crew needs to look reformed. Like he's found someone who makes him want to be better. Someone educated, sympathetic, real. And you need to show up to Joel's wedding looking happy and moved on with someone who makes Joel lose his mind."
My breath caught. "You want me to fake date him."
“You seriously want me to fake date a hockey player.”
"Not just any hockey player." Maya pulled up another photo of Crew in uniform.
"Joel's biggest rival. They played junior hockey together in Minnesota. Crew fed Joel assists all season. Joel took credit in interviews and got drafted fifteenth overall. Crew went undrafted and had to claw his way up. They've hated each other for twelve years."
I stared at her. "You want me to date Joel's enemy and show up to his wedding."
"I want you to show up looking happy with someone objectively better than him. Crew is taller, richer, more successful. Plus the psychological warfare of dating his old rival? Bonus point."
"This is insane."
"Is it?" Maya's voice softened. "Harper, you've been on my couch for six weeks eating ice cream and watching TV. You quit your job. You won't go back to your apartment. Joel ripped your entire identity away. You spent ten years being his support system and now you don't know who you are without him.”
She moved closer, “So here's what I'm offering. Three months to be someone different. Someone confident. Someone who's moved on so completely that Joel's wedding doesn't even matter."
"Fake moved on," I said.
"Does it matter? Fake it long enough and maybe it becomes real… Who knows? And besides, you’re getting paid for it. $50,000."
I sat up straight. "What?"
"Crew makes $8million a year. Fifty thousand is nothing to him. But for you? That's enough to start that clinic you've been talking about since college."
The clinic. My dream. The one I'd walked away from when Joel got called up to Seattle.
"You're serious about this."
"Completely. It’s just for three months. Public appearances and social media posts. You make people believe you and Crew are real. Then you show up to Joel's wedding on Crew's arm and collect your money. After that, you both walk away clean."
I looked at the photo of Crew again. He didn't look like someone who'd be easy to fake date. I feel… he'll be more of a tough nut to crack.
"What if people don't believe it?"
"You spent ten years convincing yourself you were happy in a relationship that was suffocating you. If you can fake that, you can fake three months with a guy who's actually on your side."
"He doesn't even know me."
"Not yet. But you'll meet him. And if you hate him, you can walk away. But at least meet him before you decide."
I sat there and different thoughts just started flooding my head.
Thoughts about Joel and the last dinner date we had. About the ring he'd brought and then decided I wasn't worth. About Brianna who couldn't even spell my name. And about showing up to that wedding alone, proving I was exactly as broken as they expected.
Or…
I could show up with Crew Lawson and watch Joel's face crumble the way mine had.
"When do I meet him?" I asked.
Maya's smile could have powered the entire city. "Tomorrow. In my office at 2PM. Try to wear something more decent… that doesn't smell like Thai food."