Page 51 of Fair Trade (New York Monarchs #2)

“Yes, yes, I know. Stupid money.” I chuckle, but then feel her tense under me. “What is it, Luisa?” My eyes search her face for a clue.

She opens her mouth, as if waiting for the words to fall out.

After a deep breath, her soft gaze meets mine.

“Thank you. For sharing a bit of your mom with me. It makes me so happy to know that my family was able to provide a sense of comfort for you.” She smiles weakly.

“Even though I’m sure you like acting like a big baby. ”

“Luisa.” I warn lightly, knowing she’s beating around the bush.

She sighs. “Why are we married?” I jerk back, not expecting that question.

“I mean, I know why… but I also don’t. You said it was for something you lost and wanted to get back.

That could be a diamond or a thoroughbred horse, and frankly, I don’t think you’d go through all the trouble of owning a baseball team for either of those things when you can buy anything on the planet. ”

“Angel—”

She leans away from me and settles into a seated position on the couch. “I mean, sure, there is much to say about sentimental value. But was it really worth marrying me? I keep wondering, what could be so precious that you’d—”

“A house.”

“A house?” Luisa deflates slightly, and I shake my head.

“The house my mother grew up in and the piece of land it sits on in the mountains of Jarabacoa.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, Nick.”

My smile holds no warmth. “I was an idiot. My mother left that house in her will for Daisy and me, and I lost it on a bet with my father. He cheated, since he had insider information on the company we were competing to acquire. He knew he would be stealing another piece of my mother from me, and he did it with a smile on his face. I knew my father played dirty, knew he didn’t have a noble bone in his body, and yet I still stooped to his level and engaged with him in this stupid bet, and for what?

To prove what I already knew about us? That I’m a better man than he’ll ever be, and when it comes to business, I’ll always come out on top?

Well, I guess I was wrong. A part of me will always be my father’s son.

” I drop my head in my hands and feel the weight of my actions fall onto my shoulders.

“Hey, you stop that right now,” Luisa scolds.

“Stop what?” I can’t even bear looking at her now that I’ve admitted what I’ve done. But you bet your ass my head snaps up when I hear her next words.

“Don’t you dare talk about my husband like that.”

A heady mixture of shock and frustration fills my chest. “Careful, wife. For a second there, you almost had me believing you didn’t think this marriage was fake. Or are we done lying and ready to call this what it is?”

“Nick.” She struggles to take in a full breath.

“We signed a contract. We’re supposed to divorce in less than a year.

You get your… your mother’s house, and after that—” She places a hand on her stomach and steadies her breathing.

She closes her eyes and asks, “And what happens when you get your house signed over to you? You no longer need to be married to me.” Her eyes stare back with unshed tears.

“What am I supposed to do, then?” she whispers.

I move in closer, my body vibrating with the need for her to hear me loud and clear.

“Real, Luisa. This marriage is fucking real to me and has been for a very long time. And maybe I’ve been a little hypocritical, waiting for you to say the words that I’m so desperate to hear from you.

But I’ll remedy it right now.” I grab my phone off the coffee table and pull up my email.

I punch at my screen so strongly, I’m surprised my screen doesn’t crack as I hit Send All.

Luisa’s eyes dart between me and my phone. “What are you doing? What about the contract? You said it yourself that this was supposed to be a fair trade.”

“Oh yeah? Well, fuck fair. And any little thing that comes between you and me.”

Luisa’s phone dings once with a notification. Then twice. She ignores it as she stares back at me.

I nod to her phone. “You might want to check that soon. It’s only going to ring 133 more times.”

“What are you talking about?” She finally reaches for her phone and freezes when she sees my name flashing across her screen, one incoming email after the other.

“I started talking to my therapist again after I left for London. After I realized I fucked up.” Her mouth opens slightly at my admission.

“When you wouldn’t speak to me, I realized that running from my feelings had finally caught up to me.

For a long time, I was fine bullshitting myself, but once I realized that my coping mechanism, my way to survive emotional distress affected you, I knew it was time to check back in with my doc and get my head screwed on straight.

I’m sure she wasn’t expecting I’d request multiple sessions a week via video conference.

” I manage a small smile at the look of shock on her face and the nonstop notifications I’ve caused.

“But the absence of you made for far too much free time in my head. I missed talking to you whenever I wanted, even if it was from behind the guise of my pestering emails. So… I wrote you anyway. Every day, multiple times a day, and left them in my drafts folder. If you asked me then, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why I did it. But ask me now.”

A tear runs down her cheek, but she doesn’t move to swipe it away. Her eyes bore into mine as she finally dares to ask. “Why did you do it, Nick? Why did you write me every day?”

“Because I love you.”