9. Ellis

CHAPTER 9

ELLIS

I drum my fingers on the kitchen counter, then pace back into the living room.

Marina and Lila are supposed to be visiting again soon so Marina can give my place a final thumbs-up. Or thumbs-down, if she feels she needs to.

I'm pretty much deferring to her in terms of baby stuff. I'm not too above myself not to make use of the talents and knowledge of the people around me — and babies are definitely an area I know nothing about.

They're supposed to be arriving any second, and I'm finding myself weirdly nervous for it. I don't know why. Last time went so well; almost too well, even. Maybe Lila was just being good, but it was far less awful than I was expecting it to be.

I just hope that's not the best it's ever going to be, because I need this to be a success. I don't care how much money Marina needs to do this properly —I'll give her anything for this work.

The doorbell rings and I walk over to answer it as casually as I can manage. I don't want to seem too desperate.

I open the door to find Marina and her stroller waiting for me. I nod in recognition. "Hello."

"Hey," she smiles. "Can we come in?"

I step aside, watching as Marina rolls the dirty wheels of the stroller into my apartment. I suppose I can't complain that much because at least she isn't dragging it over the carpets, but the idea of that much dirt being in my home makes me shiver.

"How are you?" I ask as she reaches into the stroller. Lila starts wailing almost immediately.

Marina frowns. "She barely slept last night. I'm sorry. I don't know what's going through her head but she just will not settle."

"Give her here," I say, surprising myself by holding my arms out to take the baby.

"Really?" Marina squints suspiciously at me, like she doesn't quite believe I mean it.

"So you can take your shoes off," I say quickly to absolve myself of any idea that I might be starting to care about them.

Marina reaches down to take off her shoes, and Lila starts wailing into my chest, drool and tears soaking my shirt. I should be bothered by it more than I am. Almost instinctively, I start bouncing her.

To everyone's relief, Lila's wailing slowly decreases in volume until all she's doing is sniffling and making my shirt damp. "Okay, you're kind of heavy. Can I put you down soon?" I say to her. She doesn't respond. Of course she doesn't. She's not even one year old yet. I don't know why I keep expecting this baby to have a full conversation with me.

I take the reduction in volume as a yes. Marina is giving me this really strange look as if to say I didn't think you had that in you . Unfortunately for her, I see everything as a challenge and I refuse to believe that there's anything I can't do if I put my mind to it enough.

Anyway, I think the surprise that I've got for her is really going to please her. It's not that I have any interest in pleasing her, but I'll be astonished if she isn't happy.

The more I think things like that, the more it sounds like I'm lying to myself. I don't think I am. It's not like I even really know Marina at all. It's just the nature of the situation that means I'm going to have to get to know her.

I open the door for her with one hand, figuring out how to balance Lila at the same time, and Marina steps through. When she takes in the room, she gasps lightly. "When did you do all this? It's only been a couple of days."

"You'll be amazed what money can buy you," I say as I carefully deposit Lila on the floor. She rolls onto her bottom, then starts shuffling into the room with us.

The truth is, my interior decorators have been here almost nonstop for the last few days.

It's been strange to adjust to it because it's so different to anything I would ever want for myself. And I would never confess to this to a single human being, but I keep finding myself smiling . I'm almost liking the new colors and furniture that Jeanette — my decorator — has put in place.

She's given the walls lovely, tasteful accents of pinks and purples and arranged some throw blankets and pillows on the sofa. She's hung some bright, generic posters up on the walls and changed my lightbulbs to make the room seem warmer, friendlier. And she's put a box of toys near the window.

It's exactly the kind of décor you would expect parents of a small child to have.

She's completely redone my spare room to turn it into a nursery too, painting the walls a warm yellow, and hanging lights and decorations throughout. She's also installed fanciest crib I've ever seen. I have no idea how much Lila is going to appreciate it, but at least Marina will.

According to Jeanette, it's going to be easy enough to put things back when all this is over. I hope she's right. Tasteful and appropriate as all this is, I can't live this way; I need my space to be clean and modern and look like an adult lives here.

"It looks great," says Marina, looking around open-mouthed as she absorbs it all. "I wish I could get someone to come and decorate my apartment like this."

I just grunt in acknowledgement. I feel like that's better than putting my foot in it and saying well, why don't you?

Lila seems to have a magnetic sense for the toys because she immediately starts crawling over to the window, her tiny hands tapping on the box when she gets there. She babbles something incomprehensible, and I say, "Okay, I'll come and open it for you."

Again, I notice Marina giving that strange smile that she kept giving the other day, biting at her lower lip as if she's trying not to smile and failing because she's so amused by me and her baby.

We all go to sit on the sofa, and it's not until we've settled in that I notice Marina's eyes watering. "What's wrong?" I ask, perhaps a little too harshly.

She shakes her head. "No, nothing. I'm so sorry. I just… this is all so wonderful, Ellis. I never expected my daughter to be able to have anything like this. It's just overwhelming, that's all."

I frown slightly, figuring that looking kind of solemn is the best response because I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to say next. People don't usually cry in front of me so I've never understood what I'm meant to do. I've never really had time for things like girlfriends or relationships — I've had them, but I just found it so boring having to pretend to care.

I guess I've never really had an interest in people at all. I suppose that's one of the main problems I'm having with all this — I've got no idea how I'm supposed to act as a married man.

Having no role models for that doesn't help, either. I wonder how Lila is going to feel, having an adoring mother for the rest of her life. It must be nice to have parents who dote on you, instead of giving you the family fortune as a teenager and vanishing from your life altogether.

"It was nothing," I say. "It's just for the TV."

"Of course." Marina sniffles, trying to pull herself together. "I just appreciate it, that's all."

"I can get my designer to come to your apartment if you want?" I offer weakly. It's a stupid thing to say, and I wince at myself as Marina scrunches her face in confusion. Quickly, I add, "Or anything like that — my decorator or cleaner. They're good at what they do. And you'll be able to afford it soon enough."

Somehow, that doesn't stop Marina's tears, and her crying increases, tears rolling down her face properly now, in a way she can't stop. Now I really don't know what to do.

Lila breaks the tension, shuffling back over to us like she can sense her mother's distress. She sits at Marina's feet and claps her hands and tugs on Marina's pants, wanting to be lifted onto her mother's lap. Marina reaches down and helps her up, scrubbing at her eyes again.

I open my mouth but can't think of a single thing to say.

What a great start our fake marriage is getting off to.

Marina pulls Lila into a hug, kissing her daughter's head and wrapping her arms around her. "I'm okay," she says eventually. "I promise. I'm just tired. Lila hasn't slept and I haven't slept and it's just a lot. All of this is just a lot."

"Yeah," I say, scrambling to fill the conversation. "Well… I hope you sleep better tonight."

What a stupid thing to say. I can't believe I'm being such an idiot. I have a beautiful woman crying in my house and all I could think to say is I hope you sleep better tonight . I might not have had any long-term relationships, but I'm not a fool. I've been known to charm women before.

It's something I'm going to do again.

"Let me get you a drink," I say, trying to recover whatever's left of my dignity.

"Oh, it's okay," she says, shaking her head firmly. "I have to drive home anyway."

"Right," I say forgetting that normal people don't have drivers to take them everywhere. "At least stay for dinner, then. I'll have my chef come and cook us something."

"You have a chef ," she says, a statement rather than a question, her voice thick with emotion.

I shrug. "He was cheap. I used to have a Michelin-Star chef coming, but he was expensive and took an age to make anything. So, I fired him. He threw a fit, too, stormed right out and left the stove on."

"Right…" says Marina, and I feel a huge gulf opening up between us again.

Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all. Maybe I should have tried to find someone equally as wealthy as me.

Marina might have the looks and the baby, but at this rate, we're never going to be able to pass as a couple. We're just too different.

Suddenly, I'm doubting that any of this can work at all.

She doesn't stay in the end, instead choosing to get Lila home to try and get her to sleep again. If only I'd been able to get our conversation out of the rut it was in. But I just kept putting my foot in it, making her realize exactly how different we are.

As she leaves, I think about kissing her on the cheek to say goodbye, but decide against it. We're not really married, after all. We barely even like each other.

I close the door behind her, and breathe out.

This is going to be a long three weeks.