Chapter 13 THE MORNING AFTER
The smell of burning toast filled the penthouse kitchen.
Sebastian stood at the counter, staring at the toaster like it had personally betrayed him. He had been trying to make breakfast for thirty minutes, and so far he had burned two pieces of toast, scrambled the eggs until they were rubber, and somehow managed to set off the smoke alarm.
This was ridiculous. He ran a billion dollar company. He negotiated multi million dollar deals before lunch. He could surely manage to make breakfast for his wife.
His wife.
The words still felt strange in his head, even after waking up with Harper in his arms for the second morning in a row. Even after they had agreed to abandon the pillow wall and stop pretending there was not something happening between them.
Sebastian heard Harper's door open and panicked. He quickly scraped the burned toast into the trash and put two new pieces in the toaster. Maybe if he watched it carefully this time, he could get it right.
"Morning," Harper said, appearing in the kitchen doorway. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she was wearing jeans and one of his old t-shirts that she must have found in the laundry. It was too big on her, hanging off one shoulder, and Sebastian's brain short circuited slightly at the sight.
"Morning," he managed. "I am making breakfast."
Harper looked at the kitchen, taking in the pan of ruined eggs, the smoke still clearing near the ceiling, and Sebastian's tense posture at the toaster.
"You do not have to do that," she said gently.
"I wanted to. After yesterday morning, after we..." Sebastian gestured vaguely. "I thought it would be nice."
"That is sweet. But Sebastian, you are burning the kitchen down."
"I am not burning anything. I am just" The toaster popped and two more pieces of charcoal emerged. "Damn it."
Harper moved to his side, gently taking the tongs from his hand. "Let me help."
"I can do this."
"I know you can. But maybe let us do it together?"
They worked side by side, Harper taking over the toast while Sebastian attempted new eggs under her guidance. It was domestic and simple, and Sebastian found himself relaxing into the routine. This was what married people did. They made breakfast together. They moved around each other in the kitchen like they had been doing it for years instead of days.
"So," Harper said as she buttered the toast. "We should probably talk about the cuddling thing."
Sebastian cracked another egg into the pan. "What about it?"
"Are we going to mention it? Acknowledge that we have been waking up wrapped around each other for two days straight?"
"We just did mention it."
"I mean really talk about it. About what it means."
Sebastian watched the eggs carefully, grateful for the excuse not to look at her. "Does it have to mean something? Can't it just be what it is?"
"Which is what, exactly?"
"Two people who are married, sharing a bed, and apparently our subconscious minds think we should be closer than our conscious minds agreed to." Sebastian finally looked at her. "I do not think we need to overanalyze it."
Harper set down the butter knife. "I am not overanalyzing. I am trying to understand where we stand."
"We stand exactly where we agreed to stand. Partners. Trying to make this arrangement work."
"Partners who cuddle in their sleep."
"Yes."
"And that does not complicate things?"
Sebastian plated the eggs, buying himself a few more seconds. The truth was, it did complicate things. Every morning he woke up with Harper in his arms, he felt something shifting inside him. Something that had nothing to do with contracts or arrangements and everything to do with the way she felt pressed against him, warm and soft and right.
But admitting that felt dangerous. Admitting that felt like opening a door he had spent years keeping locked.
"It is just sleeping," he said finally. "People sleep. Sometimes people who share a bed end up cuddling. It does not have to be a big deal."
Harper looked at him for a long moment, and Sebastian could see her trying to decide whether to push the issue or let it drop.
"Okay," she said finally. "It is just sleeping."
They sat down to eat, and the silence felt heavier than it should. Sebastian had clearly said the wrong thing, but he did not know how to fix it without admitting things he was not ready to admit.
His phone buzzed halfway through breakfast. A text from Marcus Hyland: "Interesting choice, marrying so quickly. Hope you know what you are doing. The board has questions."
Sebastian's jaw tightened. Marcus had been pushing boundaries since the engagement party, making little comments and sending texts designed to undermine him. This was just another attempt to create doubt.
"Everything okay?" Harper asked.
"Fine. Just work stuff."
Another text came through, this one longer: "Word is you have only known her a few weeks. That does not look good for someone claiming to make sound decisions. Might want to be prepared to answer questions at the next board meeting."
Sebastian set down his phone, his appetite suddenly gone. Marcus was going to make this difficult. He was going to use the marriage as ammunition to question Sebastian's judgment, to create problems where there should not be any.
"Sebastian, what is wrong?" Harper was watching him with concern.
"Marcus." Sebastian showed her the texts. "He is threatening to bring up the marriage timeline at the next board meeting."
Harper read the messages, her expression hardening. "Let him. We knew people would have questions."
"The board is not people. They control the company. If Marcus convinces them I made a reckless decision by marrying you so quickly, it gives him leverage to challenge other decisions."
"So what do we do?"
"We stay consistent. We stick to our story. And we do not give him any ammunition." Sebastian looked at Harper seriously. "That means we need to be convincing. Not just in public, but to anyone who might be watching."
"I thought we were being convincing."
"We are. But Marcus is looking for cracks. Any sign that this is not real, that we are not actually in love, and he will use it."
Harper set down her fork. "So we need to be more careful."
"Yes."
"More careful about what? About cuddling? About breakfast?" Her voice rose slightly. "About having normal conversations where we admit this situation is complicated?"
"Harper"
"No, I get it. We cannot actually be honest with each other because Marcus might somehow find out that we are not madly in love after knowing each other for a month. We have to perform every single moment, even when it is just us."
"That is not what I am saying."
"Then what are you saying?"
Sebastian did not have a good answer. He was saying exactly that, wasn't he? That they needed to maintain the fiction even in private, just in case. That they could not afford to be real because real was messy and complicated and gave Marcus openings.
Another text came through, this one making Sebastian's blood run cold: "Saw the marriage certificate. Two weeks from meeting to marriage. That is going to be a problem."
"He has seen the marriage certificate," Sebastian said quietly. "He knows the exact timeline."
Harper read the new message over his shoulder. "How did he get that? Those records are supposed to be private."
"Marcus has connections. And apparently he is using them." Sebastian stood up, pacing to the window. "This is bad. Two weeks is going to look suspicious. People will ask questions."
"Then we answer them. We tell them it was love at first sight. We could not wait. We knew right away."
"And when they ask for details? When they want to know about our first date, our first kiss, all the romantic moments that should have happened in those two weeks?"
"Then we make them up," Harper said firmly. "We create a story and we stick to it. That is what we have been doing all along."
Sebastian turned to look at her. She was standing in his kitchen wearing his t-shirt, her chin raised defiantly, ready to fight for this arrangement they had made. And he felt something crack in his chest.
"I am sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For making this harder than it needs to be. For worrying about Marcus when I should be focused on us."
"There is no us, Sebastian. That is the whole point, remember? This is business. A contract. We are partners, not actually married."
The words stung more than they should have. "Right. Of course."
Harper's expression softened. "I did not mean it like that."
"How did you mean it?"
"I meant that we cannot let Marcus get in our heads. We cannot let him make us doubt what we are doing or why we are doing it. We have an agreement, and we are both honoring it. That is all that matters."
Sebastian wanted to argue that it was not all that matters. That somewhere along the way, things had gotten more complicated than a simple business arrangement. That waking up with her in his arms felt like more than just two people sharing a bed.
But Harper was right. They could not afford to let feelings muddy the waters. Not with Marcus watching. Not with the board asking questions. Not when there was so much at stake.
"You are right," he said. "We stick to the plan. We convince everyone this is real. And we do not give Marcus any ammunition."
"Exactly."
Sebastian's phone buzzed again. Another text from Marcus: "Board meeting scheduled for next week. Be prepared to explain your recent decision making. All of it."
"He is not going to let this go," Sebastian said, showing Harper the message.
"Then we will deal with it at the board meeting. Together." Harper moved closer to him. "We are in this together, right? Partners?"
"Partners," Sebastian agreed.
She held out her hand, and Sebastian took it. Her fingers were small in his, warm and steady. He wanted to pull her closer, to kiss her like he had at City Hall, to forget about Marcus and board meetings and contracts that put expiration dates on whatever this was becoming.
Instead, he squeezed her hand once and let go.
"I should get to the office," he said. "Start preparing for next week."
"Okay. I will work on the Adriatic renovations from here."
They moved around each other carefully, maintaining appropriate distance, being professional and appropriate like business partners should be. But Sebastian could feel the tension, the unsaid things hanging between them.
In his office, Sebastian tried to focus on work but kept thinking about the way Harper had looked in his t-shirt. The way she had said there is no us like she was reminding herself as much as him. The way his bed had felt empty and wrong after she had gotten up this morning.
This arrangement was supposed to be simple. Twelve months, clear boundaries, mutual benefit. But nothing about it felt simple anymore.
His phone buzzed one more time. Not Marcus this time, but Claire: "How is married life? Are you two doing okay?"
Sebastian stared at the message. How was married life? Complicated. Confusing. More real than it was supposed to be and not real enough at the same time.
"Fine," he typed back. "Everything is fine."
But as he sent the message, Sebastian wondered if either of them believed that anymore.
In the living room, Harper sat with her laptop open to renovation plans she was not actually looking at. She was thinking about Sebastian's face when she had said there is no us. The way he had flinched like she had hurt him.
She had not meant to hurt him. She had meant to protect them both from getting too confused about what this was. But the words had come out wrong, had sounded harsh when she had only meant to be clear.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Jessie: "How is day three of marriage?"
Harper looked toward Sebastian's closed office door. "Complicated."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not yet. Still figuring things out."
"Okay. But Harper? Be careful. I know you. You are already catching feelings."
Harper did not respond because Jessie was right. She was catching feelings. Had probably already caught them. And that was the most dangerous thing she could do.
This was temporary. In twelve months, they would sign divorce papers and go back to their separate lives. Sebastian would return to being Seattle's most eligible bachelor, and Harper would have her hotel and her independence.
That was the plan. That was what they had agreed to.
So why did the thought of it ending make her chest hurt?
Harper closed her laptop and looked at the
ring on her finger. Simple platinum, perfect fit, chosen by a man who noticed things like her ring size when she washed her hands.
Twelve months suddenly felt both impossibly long and not nearly long enough.