The Fiance - Stefanie London Page 0,2
shifts, supplementing the inconsistency of that work with catering shifts in the evening. It’s been enough for me to make rent, but now... “And I ran into Mr. James today.”
Mr. James is my landlord. He’s a kindly old man of eighty-three and he owns three apartments in the 21 Love Street complex. He’s been giving me the deal of the century on rent because I taught his granddaughter for a term and she loved me to bits.
“How is he?”
“He’s selling the apartment.”
Silence stretches on the other end of the line and for a second I think the call has cut out. But then I hear something in the background, like a cupboard door closing. “He’s selling?”
“Well, he’s signing all the apartments he owns over to his children and they’re selling, apparently. Honestly, my brain stopped working for a minute so I didn’t take in all the details.”
“How long?”
“Two months.” I can’t even bear the thought of it. I love that apartment. I’ve filled it with personal things. I’ve made memories there. Friends, too. “I won’t be able to find anything in the city for what he was charging me, either.”
Not to mention that without a permanent teaching role, my ability to save has been somewhat hamstrung. Casual work pays well, but there have been weeks where I’ve had little more than a single shift to live on.
“You can stay with me,” Emery offers.
“Oh yeah, and sleep on your couch forever? I appreciate the offer, but that’s not a solution.”
“What are you going to do?”
I glance back at my mother’s house as I unlock my car. The thought of moving in with her, especially after what happened today, is not ideal. “I honestly don’t know.”
“What a shit day! We’ll figure something out, whatever you—”
“That’s not everything.” I slide into the driver’s seat and pull the door closed behind me. For a minute I sit there, staring out through the windshield and counting the leaves that have fallen from the big tree hanging overhead. They’ve gotten caught in the windscreen wipers and they flutter as the wind picks up. “My mother is trying to convince me to marry Anthony.”
“Creepy Anthony?”
See, even Emery knows it. “Yep.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not.” I press my head back against the headrest. “If she was any more old-school there would have been a dowry and everything.”
“I can’t... I don’t know what to say to that.”
“There’s nothing to say, Em. I just want today to be over.”
“This is messed up.” She sighs. “Come over. I’ll order pizza and we’ll crack open a bottle of wine. Or something stronger.”
I glance at my watch. “I can’t. I’ve got a catering shift tonight and it turns out I need the money more than ever.”
Emery makes me promise to come by in the morning so she can treat me to brunch. Honestly, the thought of food turns my stomach. I’m barely employable, soon-to-be homeless and my own mother thinks I need to marry a loser so I don’t get left on the shelf. It’s like the universe is telling me that I should settle for whatever I can get.
But I can’t.
I refuse to become like my mother, a broken woman who thinks the bare minimum is something to aim for. A woman who’s too afraid to aim for anything at all. I have big goals and dreams. I want to find a teaching job where I can really impact the development and growth of young people. I want to buy my own home and be proud of what I’ve accomplished. I want to find a love that makes my heart flutter and my soul shine.
I want it all.
And while I have exactly zero ideas on how to make that all happen, I’m not about to lay down my sword. I will find a solution...somehow.
CHAPTER TWO
Daniel
I’M THE KIND of guy who’s always got a plan, who’s prepared for anything. Yet when it comes to my family... I’m stumped. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly they can make my day go from bad to shitstorm. Or, in this case, whatever the hell comes after shitstorm.
I white-knuckle a tumbler containing two fingers of Scotch, resisting the urge to hurl it at my brother as he storms away.
But we grew up in the spotlight and I know better. Every moment, including this one, is a chance for the public to feast. I’ve seen too many people felled by pointless Twitter arguments and unflattering Instagram rants. Too many promising careers dashed because people didn’t have the