Page 24 of Six Month Wife

“I think that sounds reasonable. Hell, I would do $300,000, if that works?”

“Oh, okay. Even better,” she says. “Three hundred big ones isn't nothing. You have that kind of cash?”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “No, I don't. I’m still paying off med school, and now I have a mortgage while also finishing out my lease.”

"Ahh. So I wouldn't be able to see any money until after the estate pays, after the six months?"

“I can commit to a structure that makes it doable in the short term. For both of us.”

"So what does that look like? What does that mean?"

“I can swing $8,000 a month. That’s yours, regardless of what happens. Call it short-term relief. Then, if we make it to six months and the estate closes, I’ll pay the balance, which would be..."

I do the math quickly in my head. "I'll pay the balance of $252,000 once everything goes through.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, calculating. “So, let me make sure I understand the full picture. I play the part, survive the judgment, keep this going for six months…”

“You walk away with three hundred grand,” I finish. “Exactly.”

“And if it blows up before then?”

“You keep what I’ve already paid. I take the hit. No penalties, no NDA bullshit. I don’t want to screw you over, Adair. I want this to work for both of us. If it doesn't, we tried.”

She leans back, silent for a beat. Then she nods slowly, and there’s steel behind it.

“Alright,” she says. “I think we can do it. Would you be okay if I have my attorney draw up a contract with specific terms? The money, but also what my expectations would be as part of this?”

"I have no problem with that."

"I'm guessing I need to pretend we are in love in public, like we're married for real, maybe some occasional PDA, that kind of stuff. Since we will be neighbors, we can probably maintain the front that we're living together in marital bliss fairly easily while keeping our own places."

"All of that tracks for me. We can keep the illusion going without crashing into each other’s routines.”

She nods, but her eyes keep moving. I can almost see her locking the pieces into place, like a strategy forming mid-air.

Then, quietly, she says, almost as a final condition, “I didn’t build Citrine for fun. This is my real life.”

“I get that.”

“I'm only considering this because I happen to need some capital to do some things.”

There’s no shame in her voice. Just honesty.

I nod. “None of that is my business, but I figured as a small business owner, this could be helpful for you.”

She lifts her glass, studies me over the rim. “Now that we’re clear. I’ll lie to the world, sign whatever contract you want, but don’t ever pity me.”

My mouth curves. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

Her eyes soften a little. “We both need something here.”

“Exactly right,” I say. “Consider yourself the CEO of our ruse.”

Her mouth twitches. “Not the worst promotion I’ve ever had.”

She crosses her arms again, gaze steady. “And sex?”

I meet her eyes. “Not required, not expected. But, we both know the attraction’s there, so, I mean....”