Page 17 of Mr. Brightside

I side-eye him at that.

“What? I know how much you make at Clinton’s. If you’re having trouble paying for school, I just assumed…”??

“I’m not some charity case,” I spit.

Jake doesn’t know it, but I used to be. Shame still flares up when I think about the free lunches and weekend food bags. My abuela worked tirelessly to raise me and give me everything, but sometimes we still needed help to fill in the gaps. There’s nothing wrong with receiving help. I know that now. But it doesn’t change the visceral reaction I feel when I think about it.

“I’m not implying that you’re a charity case. But I don’t think you understand how much money we’re talking about here. Or how badly I don’t want or need it. I never counted on this inheritance. It feels like I’ve spent my whole damn life trying to make smart decisions to avoid having to rely on this option.”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head before pinning me with those hazel eyes.

“But it’s ten million dollars, Cor. That’s a lot of fucking money. In my mind, we use it to buy out Mike, invest in the businesses so those are secure, then pay for your school and pay off any student loans. Even after I’ve paid for the restaurants and we’ve lived off it for a few years, it’s safe to assume you’ve got four million to your name. We can’t have a prenup or a paper trail, so that means when we separate, you automatically get half. I just ask for your word that you won’t touch the businesses. Otherwise, what’s mine is yours, for better or for worse, and only richer, because it’s so much fucking money you’ll never be poor.”

“Jake…” I can barely wrap my mind around the enormity of what he’s offering. “That’s so much money.”

“I know. And you have no idea how badly I don’t want any of it.” He sighs, then peers past my shoulder, seemingly lost in thought.

“Accepting it feels like defeat,” he admits, shaking his head in shame. “My dad left me that money to mock me. He wanted to remind me of how he tried to force me into a relationship before. I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure he never imagined gay marriage would be legal in Ohio, hence why he didn’t stipulate that I had to marry a woman.”

Realization hits me as he candidly shares the real motivation behind his plan.

“I despise having to use this money. It’s steeped in hate. But if you do this with me, I’ll feel less shitty about the whole thing. Marrying a man and making my dreams come true seems like a pretty good way to give the middle finger to my father’s wishes.”

I’m sure I’m not thinking this through, but I feel myself nodding again. It’s like my body has a mind of its own around this man.

“We can pay off your car or buy you a new one. I might get a new car while we’re at it. We can pick a few charities and make big donations. Anything you want to do with it, we’ll do. Hell, you can pay off your grandma’s house if you want. We’ll share everything while we’re together. Then we’ll split up what’s left when we go our separate ways.”

My car is on its last wheeze. Tori’s dad told me I was months away from needing a new one the last time he looked at it for me. Most of my undergrad student loans are in forbearance, but interest keeps accruing. My abuela rents our 2-bedroom ranch house in Cascade Falls, and she refuses to let me contribute while I’m in school. She’s never owned a home. She’s going to lose it when she finds out about this.

Then there’s my dream. The improbability I hold close to my heart, even though I know it’s years away from becoming a reality. Or it was. Maybe it’s not so farfetched now.

I want to open a private counseling practice that’s run like a non-profit. I want to forgo private insurance and offer high-quality services on a sliding scale fee. Like Planned Parenthood, but for mental health. I don’t have any idea how to pull it off, or if it’s even possible. And I’m still more than a year out from earning my master’s degree and even thinking about opening an office.

But with that kind of money? With that kind of freedom?

I think I’m going to do it.

I rise to my feet to match his stance. “You’re asking a lot, Jake.”

“I know.” He turns his head away, almost like he’s preparing to be rejected.

“But you’re offering a lot, too. Before I commit, I need to make sure you understand something. Marriage is a big deal to me. So are relationships. This isn’t something I take lightly. Especially because when I was younger, I thought I’d have to leave Ohio to even have the opportunity to get married. I don’t love that part of this plan. But I can set my personal feelings on the matter aside for now. If you promise to be faithful… and if it means my dreams don’t get derailed because of funding… I’ll do it.”

His head snaps up so fast I’m afraid he pulled a muscle.

“You’ll do it?”

I shake my head and laugh—I’m almost as surprised as he is. What the hell am I doing?

“Yeah,” I confirm with a grin. “I’ll marry you.”

His joy is infectious as he comes at me in violent delight. The next thing I know, his arms are around me: hugging, squeezing, lifting. He lets out a whoop, and I laugh again.

This is not how I thought this night would go. This is not how I thought mylifewould go. This is the most reckless, wild thing I’ve ever done.

But it’ll be okay. Because it’s Jake. And he really is offering a hell of a lot.

Chapter 9