Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

MARIGOLD

I t was strange not having a job. The first couple of weeks it was nice. It was relaxing. It was the first time since I was fifteen I didn't have a job. I told myself I deserved the time off.

But now I was a little bored. Directionless.

I sipped my morning coffee when my phone beeped with a message from Elaine. Today, I was not going to be bored. I was so glad I didn't have a job because it meant I was free to hang out with her.

Landed in NYC! Be there in 30.

I grinned and texted her back with a clapping emoji. I hadn't seen Elaine since the whirlwind that was her wedding and my own fake engagement to Zayn. She'd been on one hell of a honeymoon and been out of the country. I was looking forward to some time with her, just like old times—well, almost.

True to her word, Elaine arrived half an hour later, her bright smile and open arms reminding me of the easy friendship we'd always shared. After hugs and catching up on the basic pleasantries, she suggested we go shopping.

"Thanksgiving is coming up," Elaine said, adjusting her scarf as we stepped into the crisp autumn air. "Carlos and I are going to some fancy dinners with his friends. I need a killer outfit. What about you? Big plans?"

I nodded. "Yeah, Zayn's family does a huge Thanksgiving dinner every year. It's kind of a big deal. I need something that makes me look like I belong. Zayn gave me his credit card. He wants to make sure I feel good in whatever I'm wearing."

She raised an eyebrow. I knew the questions were coming. They always did. But for now, she let it slide, and we made our way to Fifth Avenue.

"What else are you planning to do while you're in the city?" I asked as we browsed through the racks.

"We're going to see a couple of Broadway shows, eat good food, and shop. Then, it's back to Green River." She held up a blouse. "What do you think?"

"Perfect," I said with a nod.

She draped it over her arm, and we moved on to another rack.

Shopping with Elaine was like stepping back into a simpler time, one where our biggest concerns were finding the perfect dress or shoes for the football game or school dance.

Not that I attended most of the dances, but I did go shopping with her.

We flitted from store to store, picking up a few things here and there, laughing and chatting as if nothing had changed. But I could feel it—the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us. And I knew they were coming. She was giving me a free pass for now, but it was definitely looming like a dark storm cloud.

We ended up in a chic little boutique that specialized in evening wear and lingerie. I found a dress that clung to all the right places, the kind of dress that would make Zayn's eyes darken with that heated look I'd come to recognize all too well. Elaine found a pair of jeans that looked like they'd been tailored just for her.

We stepped into side-by-side fitting rooms to try on the dresses we selected.

"So, Marigold," Elaine started, her voice muffled slightly by the walls. "This whole thing with Zayn. How did it start? Why did it start? And when is it going to end?"

I hesitated, adjusting the dress over my hips as I considered how much to tell her. Elaine was my best friend, but even best friends didn't always need to know everything. Still, I owed her the truth—or at least as much of it as I could give.

"It started just before your wedding," I admitted, checking the dress in the mirror. "I lied. Told everyone I was engaged to Zayn so I wouldn't have to face them feeling like a complete failure."

We both stepped out of our fitting rooms at the same time to check out our images in the large mirrors. Elaine looked effortlessly stylish. "You lied? Why?" she asked.

"I didn't want to deal with the pity, the judgment," I said, turning to face her. "You know how people from back home can be. They all have their lives together, and I didn't. Not really. So, I made up a fiancé."

Elaine looked concerned. "And then Zayn went along with it?"

I nodded, smoothing the fabric of the dress. "He did more than that. He reached out to me later and asked me to keep up the act for a huge sum of money to help him with a situation at his business. I would have been an idiot to say no."

Elaine's expression shifted from surprise to something like worry. "Marigold, this is crazy. You shouldn't have to go to such lengths to impress strangers."

"I know," I groaned. "It was impulsive and silly, but once it was out there, I had to keep going."

"Who cares what anyone thinks?" she asked, echoing a sentiment I knew I should embrace but hadn't quite managed to.

I shrugged and turned back to the mirror. "Easy for you to say. You just got married to the love of your life on a gorgeous beach. You have your dream job, and you get to travel as often as you want. You've done things you can be proud of. I haven't. Not yet, anyway. Zayn felt like a lifeline." I sighed. "Look, I'm not proud of it, okay?"

Elaine sighed and looked down at her jeans, then back at me with concern in her eyes. "I wish you could have confided in me about feeling this way. Maybe I could have helped you in healthier ways."

"There's nothing that can be done about the past," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "It is what it is."

"There's therapy," Elaine suggested, her tone soft but insistent.

I laughed it off, waving a hand dismissively as I went back into the fitting room. "I don't need therapy."

I went back inside the fitting room to switch to a different outfit, trying to ignore the way my stomach twisted at the suggestion. Therapy would mean admitting that something was wrong, that maybe this whole arrangement with Zayn was more than just a harmless charade. And I wasn't ready to face that.

"So, what's next?" Elaine asked, her voice floating over the fitting room wall as I changed.

"We have an engagement photoshoot tomorrow," I said, trying to sound excited about it. "I'm really looking forward to it—the dress, the glamor, the whole thing."

Elaine's voice came out skeptical. "An engagement photoshoot? Marigold, this is nuts. You're going deeper into this lie."

I took a deep breath, pulling on a new dress and trying to muster up the same enthusiasm. "I know, but I'm in it now. I might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

She didn't say anything for a moment. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't," I assured her, even though I wasn't entirely sure of that myself. "This is temporary. Zayn and I both know it. It's better than a regular relationship because we know there's an expiration date."

I stepped out of the fitting room once again. Elaine emerged from her room dressed in her usual clothes. "Oh, I like that!" She clapped her hands and gave me the signal to turn around.

"I'm thinking for the photoshoot tomorrow," I said.

"That's hot and it makes your ass look great. And your boobs. Damn, you look like Marilyn Monroe, with red hair."

"Thanks," I said, wanting to believe the compliment even if my own self-esteem was telling me she was full of shit. "I think I'll get it."

"Definitely," she said.

I went back into the dressing room to change out of the dress. We ended up buying a few items each, including the sexy lingerie I'd picked out for Zayn. It was silly. I didn't know why I bought it, but I couldn't resist.

We left the store and headed toward a café for a bite to eat.

"Marigold," she said softly as we sat down with our drinks. "I really wish you'd believe me when I say you don't need to do all this. You're enough, just as you are."

I looked down at my coffee, swirling the foam with my spoon. "I know you mean well, but it's not that simple."

"It could be," she insisted, leaning forward. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone."

I met her gaze, forcing a smile. "I know. But there's nothing that can be done about it now."

Elaine sighed, shaking her head. "I just wish you'd confided in me sooner. Maybe I could have helped."

"There's no point dwelling on the past," I said, shrugging and taking a sip of my coffee. "This is where I am now."

Elaine nodded slowly, but I could tell she wasn't satisfied with my answers. She let it drop, though, and we spent the rest of our time together talking about lighter things—her plans with Carlos, the Broadway shows they were going to see, and what I could expect from Zayn's family Thanksgiving dinner.

"They are all really nice," I said when she asked about the infamous Bancroft family. "They're very normal. Most of the wives came from humble beginnings."

Elaine's eyebrows shot up, her fingers curling tighter around her coffee cup. "Humble beginnings? I guess that means they won't look down their noses at you."

I managed a chuckle, picking at the croissant I'd ordered. "They're more interested in who you are as a person, not what you're wearing—thank God."

"That's a relief," Elaine said, a slight smile forming on her lips. "I hope they are as welcoming as you say."

I nodded, taking another sip of my coffee. "They are, surprisingly. I think they're just excited about the engagement. Surprised but excited."

Elaine's smile faltered slightly at that. She looked down into her coffee and then back up at me. "Do they know it isn't real?"

"No."

Elaine nodded slowly, her eyes searching mine for a moment before she took a deep breath. "I'm worried about you. I don't want you hurt."

"I'll be fine. I knew what I was getting into. The money will help me start a new life once this little charade is over. I'm enjoying myself. It's like getting to play Cinderella but I won't turn into a pumpkin for months."

Elaine let out a chuckle, her laugh lines creasing around her eyes. "Well then, Cinderella. Just make sure you remember to leave the ball before midnight."

"I will," I assured her. "And when the carriage turns back into a pumpkin, you'll be there to help pick up the pieces."

"Always," she said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

We finished our coffee in silence, each lost in our thoughts. I couldn't escape a sense of dread that my life was a tower of cards teetering on the brink of collapse.

Elaine gave me a long, tight hug. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself," she said, her voice tinged with worry.

"I promise," I replied, hoping it was a promise I could keep.

She hopped in a cab, heading off to meet Carlos for dinner. I was left alone with all my bags. Not daring to take my expensive clothes on the subway, I hailed a cab to take me home.

At home, I wandered into the bedroom, laying out the lingerie I'd bought on the bed. It was beautiful, delicate, and sexy—exactly the kind of thing that would drive Zayn wild. And it was red. He said red was his favorite color. While we were enjoying this little game, we may as well have a little fun.

I'd been so focused on playing the part, on keeping up the charade, that I hadn't really stopped to think about what it was doing to me. I was losing myself in this role, blurring the lines between what was real and what wasn't. And with Thanksgiving just around the corner, the pressure was mounting.

I sank down onto the bed, staring at the lingerie and feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over me. Was I really doing the right thing? Or was I just digging myself deeper into a hole I wouldn't be able to climb out of?