The Pretend Husband: Romance In the City, Book 1 Read online

  Alex reached his hand across the table, and I offered mine in return. I thought I saw sparks in the dim light of the bar. I gazed into those green eyes again. I could sense a prickle of fear crawling up the back of my neck, but the feeling in my gut was now positive. I knew that I needed something to distract me from the politics at work, and Alex looked like the perfect opportunity.

  He asked, “Could we hang out here for one more beer? I’ve been through the wringer the last couple of days and I kind of like this bar. It seems friendly, and this is my first time.”

  “That’s perfect. I could use another pint too. I was winding down from work, and I took Chester out on my way here so that he will be fine.” I asked, “Do you know anything about art?”

  “Renaissance? Impressionism? Modern?” asked Alex. “I took three courses in art history in college.”

  2

  Alex

  It’s strange how a day can start out feeling like the last day at the end of the world and end up warm and fuzzy by the time you crawl into bed at night. The day I met Liam was one of those days.

  I would have just said good riddance about Eric and continued with my life as a solo player if it wasn’t that our splitting up left me feeling so helpless in a city that was still unfamiliar. I was twenty-five and suddenly destitute. I really should have been saving money, but we started out so well as a couple. Maybe I trust people a little too much, but plenty of Eric’s friends vouched that he was a good guy.

  I graduated from college with a teaching certificate for high school English literature. I was ready to start interviewing for teaching positions when Eric suggested I wait a year. He thought his company was transferring him within the next six months, and we both agreed it didn’t make sense to start working at a school for just one year and then move. Unfortunately, that one year grew into two before Eric’s transfer to Milwaukee was announced.

  Then he cheated. He climbed into bed with a guy we met at the beach in June. I doubt beach boy was the first, but he was the one I discovered. Then Eric left me when he realized I had proof of his transgressions. It was the culmination of a string of circumstances in the relationship with Eric that only made me feel smaller and smaller. I was raised to be proud, but the relationship with Eric and the decisions surrounding it put real chinks in my armor.

  I only had a part-time job. I wasn’t using my major from college. I didn’t have my own car. After I caught him cheating, I thought I was supposed to be the one storming out the door, but I was the one left clinging to the life raft and hoping we could save the relationship. I ended up in a hotel room waiting for my parents to wire enough money to my bank account for another night’s stay and a bus ticket home. It was the most humiliating day of my life so far.

  I had about $50 left in pocket change, and I decided to blow a part of that on a drink in a bar on the East Side. It wasn’t in the same neighborhood as my hotel, and I spent $2.25 on a bus ride there. I wanted to avoid anyone that might know both Eric and me. I could have just slammed the door of the hotel room shut. It would have allowed me to retreat from the world, but I also knew that it would feel good to be among other people instead of spending the evening alone.

  About the only thing I felt like I had left going my way when I caught the bus to the East Side was my looks. The guy who stared back at me from the mirror was still attractive. I inherited the good genes from my dad, and I was thankful every time that I saw the cut of my jaw. If I made a real concerted effort to offer a friendly face, I was confident that I could find someone to talk to on my last night in Milwaukee.

  Shortly after I arrived at the bar, the day suddenly started looking up. I spotted a well-dressed professional young guy in the bar. He appeared to be about my age, and he looked sharp in a pale blue button-up shirt and khakis. His hair was trimmed short, and he had one button below the collar open on the shirt. He was the epitome of the cute guy next door. I leaned back against the bar in my best attempt to look dashing but non-threatening.

  To my surprise, it worked. I drew Liam’s attention. I struck up a conversation with him, and he tossed me a life preserver. I soon discovered that Liam ranked as the nicest guy I’ve met in years. I hate to use the word “nice.” In fact, I try to banish it from my vocabulary as a word with too many potential meanings, but it was an accurate description for Liam.

  His gaze was honest, and he offered me a room. I was sure that he would give me the shirt off his back if I asked for that, too. I felt a little guilty about accepting his offer to crash at his house. He didn’t owe me anything at all. I was already determined to find a way to pay him back for his generosity somehow someday.

  Liam even had a dog, a black Lab named Chester. Before I left for college seven years back, my golden retriever named Elliott passed away. He died at the ripe old age of fifteen. It was a full life for a dog. My mom picked him up from the animal shelter as a puppy when I was just three. Elliott and I grew up together. Eric, my boyfriend, had no interest in pets, but I recognized a hole that existed in my life which only a cold nose and a happy tail would fill.

  After an animated conversation about the value of pop art and whether or not Impressionism is overrated, Liam and I both drained our second beers. “Why don’t we go to the hotel first to pick up your stuff?” asked Liam. “I can give you a ride. Are you staying in a downtown hotel?”

  “Yeah, sort of. I guess it’s the edge of downtown. I’m in one of the cheaper, discount places. It’s not as bad as it sounds, but I decided not to wander too far away into nearby neighborhoods. They look a little rough.”

  Liam shrugged. Along with his generosity, there was a kind of comfort and confidence he exuded that made me feel safer even though the city was still unfamiliar. Too often the nice guys were all too willing to let me run the show. By contrast, Liam eagerly took charge of the situation. I could feel my heart skip a beat.

  He said, “You just have to show everyone that you know what you’re doing and you know where you are and why. No one has hassled me, and my family has been here since I was ten.”

  Liam pulled up into the hotel parking lot and said, “Yeah, this isn’t such a bad area. To the south is downtown Milwaukee. Further north I would be careful after dark, but the hotel is fine. I’ll just wait here while you get your stuff.”

  Taking one last look around the hotel room, I gathered up the two suitcases that held all that was important to me so far in my life. As I wheeled the luggage into the hall and waited for the elevator, I had a fleeting thought pass through my head. What if Liam isn’t safe? What if he is luring me to my doom? I thought Eric was a good guy, and that blew up in my face. Perhaps I should view my judgment with some healthy skepticism.

  Instead, I shook my head and laughed it off. The chances that I would discover the country’s next serial killer headline in a bar on the East Side of Milwaukee were slim to none.

  “Are you sure that you want to check out at this hour?” asked the perky blonde clerk at the hotel desk. “You’ve got the whole night and checkout isn’t until 11:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  I gave her a toothy grin and answered, “Let’s just say I’ve had a lucky break.”

  On my way back to the car, I stopped at the edge of the parking lot. I could hear Liam’s tenor voice busting out the chorus to Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer.” I squatted slightly to look through the car’s windshield. He closed his eyes while he sang and he pounded out the percussion with his hands on the steering wheel. I couldn’t help smiling and feeling drawn to Liam like a magnet to steel.

  I tried to approach quietly, but when he saw me, his face instantly blushed red, and he sat in silence while the rest of the song droned on from the car radio. The trunk popped open, and I dutifully hefted the two black suitcases inside. I opted to keep my computer bag in my hands. I knew that it would be safe in Liam’s trunk, but I was a firm believer in habits, and keeping the bag in my hands was a good habit to stop me from leaving the computer behind at a bus stop or in a coffee shop.


  Climbing back into the front seat of the car, I said, “You didn’t need to stop. You’re pretty good. Have you ever tried karaoke?”

  The blush faded from his face, and Liam smiled again. He said, “I’ve won prize money before.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Liam’s confidence extended to being able to haul himself up on a stage to compete for prizes with only his singing voice. I hoped to hear him sing to me.

  As Liam pulled out of the parking lot, he said, “There are some rules of the house to know.”

  “Do you mean you make rules for yourself?”

  “For us. I just came up with a few. It’s my house, so I guess that I get to make the rules.”

  He had me there. I nodded and silently listened to the guidelines that would govern my sudden good fortune.

  “The first one awake in the morning takes Chester out. That means you don’t get to roll around in bed hoping I wake up. If I head downstairs and on the way I see you lying in bed typing on your phone, we’ll have words.”

  I laughed and said, “I think I can manage that one. Otherwise, I’ll just keep the door closed.”

  “And closing the door doesn’t work. Chester gets the run of the house.” Liam added, “And no clanking around in the kitchen before 7:00 a.m.”

  “Got it.”

  “Two-hour time limit for dishes to be cleaned up after snacks or meals,” said Liam.

  That was a rule that Eric needed. I’m on the neat and tidy side of life, so it wasn’t a hardship to me. I said, “I bet that I could push it to less than ninety minutes.”

  He said, “We’ll start with easy goals. If I need to turn the screws later, I’ll do that.”

  Liam pulled into the driveway of an immaculately-cared-for bungalow, and I asked, “This whole house is yours?”

  He began to nod, but then he said, “Well, it’s technically not mine. It belongs to a great aunt and uncle who fled to Mexico for retirement five years ago. My parents convinced them to rent it out for two years before I graduated from college. After I graduated, they rented it to me.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing to have an entire house right out of college.”

  He said, “In most ways, yes, but it’s a lot of work, too. I’m behind on handyman jobs around the house. I have a hard time keeping up with work, my classes, and the odd jobs.”

  “Classes?”

  “I’ll tell you inside,” said Liam.

  I pulled the suitcases out of the trunk and followed Liam to the kitchen door. A gentle breeze was drifting through the neighborhood, and I looked around to see a few leaves sailing to the ground from the canopy of trees lining the street. They glowed yellow and orange as they caught the light from the street lamps. It was a beautiful evening.

  As we approached the house, we heard the tell-tale sound of claws scraping at the kitchen door. Liam spoke sternly, “Relax, Chester, it’s just me!” Then he paused before adding, “And a guest.”

  Chester was about 70 lbs. of pure energy. When the door opened, Liam deftly slipped inside, and Chester nearly knocked me back out of the house again. The handles of my suitcases clattered to the threshold while I reached out to pet Chester with one hand. I laughed and asked, “Can I get through the door, please?” Looking beyond Chester at Liam, I asked, “Is he still just a puppy?”

  “He thinks he is.”

  With my belongings safely inside the house, I squatted down and willingly accepted big sloppy kisses in greeting from Chester. Liam asked me, “Are you hungry?”

  “Maybe a little peckish.”

  “Frozen pizza? This is such an odd situation. I doubt that I’ll be falling asleep at my normal time.”

  I scratched Chester beneath his chin. “Pizza is great, and what’s odd?”

  “You.”

  “I’m odd?”

  “You don’t think the fact that you’re moving in with a guy you don’t even know is a little odd? I didn’t even know who you were a few hours ago.”

  Liam scratched his chin and then shook his head. I was worried that he might be considering changing his mind. I said, “Oh, yeah, that. I guess you’re right. Frankly, my life has been weird since I got to town just a few weeks ago. I’m getting used to it. Tomorrow I’ll have to give my parents a call, and I’m still not sure what to tell them.”

  “The truth?” asked Liam.

  “Well, yeah, a version of that. I’ll tell my parents that I’m staying with a friend. You do think we’ll be friends, don’t you?”

  “As long as you take the garbage out when it’s your turn.” Then he burst out laughing. He started to say, “Maybe more..,” and then he stopped abruptly. The blush I saw in the car came back, and he protested, “This isn’t who I am normally.”

  “So far, you’re perfect to me.”

  I smiled and watched him pull a pizza out of the freezer. From where I was squatting, ingratiating myself with Chester, I could see that the freezer was well-organized. It looked like vegetables were stacked on one side and meat on the other. The big disk of the pizza was lying across the top. I was neat and tidy with objects, but my life was lacking in organization.

  I said, “You don’t have to worry about me doing my fair share of work around here. In fact, maybe I can help out with a few things. After all, I won’t have a job immediately.”

  Liam punched the temperature into the oven controls and said, “But it takes time to find a job, too. Maybe I should take you downtown when I go to work, and you can set up in a coffee shop for your search.”

  I winced, turned around, and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “You want to get rid of me as soon as you can, don’t you?”

  “I thought you wanted to leave as soon as possible.”

  An awkward silence fell between the two of us. I broke it by asking, “Does Chester need to go out?” When I pronounced the last word, there was a sudden scrabbling of claws on the tile floor, and Chester headed for the door.

  Liam cautioned, “Don’t ever say the three-letter word unless you mean it. Yes, he probably does. Grab the leash by the door, and there is a gate to the backyard just beyond the car. Once you have him inside the gate, you can unsnap the leash. I have a fenced backyard.”

  My last glance at Liam before I headed out the door with Chester was a good one. He was watching the two of us intently, and a smile was creeping back across his face. It warmed my heart and made me forget all of the angst of earlier in the day. We were both in good hands.

  3

  Liam

  The next day, Sarah sat beside me on a concrete bench just ten yards from the lunchtime bratwurst wagon. She worked in the bank building just blocks from the museum. We met for lunch three times a week. Harry, the brat man, parked his wagon to maximize foot traffic from the bank employees May through October. We were nearing the end of his season, but I still had cravings for his smoky grilled brats.

  Sarah slathered mustard over her brat, and, then, before taking a bite, she asked in a disbelieving tone of voice, “You did what? You brought home a stray human puppy?”

  I added pickle relish to my brat. Sarah always said I was treating it too much like a hot dog, but it was the way that I liked it best. I said, “He’s not a stray puppy. Alex is a nice guy. He’s well-educated. He just had an unfortunate turn of events.”

  “Well, so did the kids in the Lemony Snicket books, and they nearly died a dozen times over.”

  “Oh, Sarah, you know that’s a little extreme.” I bit into my sausage and said, ”He’s helpful, too. Seriously, he fixed the plumbing in the bathroom, and he’s talking about cleaning out the gutters.”

  “And Chester likes him, too?”

  My eyes opened wider when Sarah asked the question. “Yeah, I think Chester likes him even better than me. Chester’s turning into a traitor. I see how that tail wags when Alex climbs out of bed in the morning.”

  “Chester doesn’t sleep with him?”

  “No, he still sleeps at the foot of my bed. I think it would be a tru
e betrayal if he started sleeping across the hall with Alex.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “So, could you send this handyman over to my place next? I’ve got these stupid little projects that need to be taken care of in my apartment.”

  I asked, “Why don’t you call the maintenance guy? Do you still have the one with the Santa Claus beard?”

  “Because when he finally gets to it, he makes me feel ridiculous for even asking. And yes, it’s the same one. He’s the one who nearly electrocuted himself in my kitchen. He’s always saying, ‘Let me show you what to do if it happens again.’”

  “Don’t you pay his salary with your rent?”

  Sarah said, “I thought so. Anyway, it’s easiest just to wait until my brother or my parents come to visit. Then they get the little things taken care of, but if Alex gets bored…”

  I laughed and said, “I’ll let him know.”

  I first met Sarah just three weeks into my job as a junior curator at the art museum. I was using my lunch hour to roam the public collections and continue my memorization of the locations of specific pieces. I was typing the names of works into my cell phone. Later, I would randomly mix them up and try to pinpoint the location. I wanted to have it down to the distinct wall in a specific gallery. While I was diligently typing in “Andy Warhol,” a gorgeous young woman with long, raven-black hair stepped up behind me and spoke into my ear.

  She said, “The first time I saw his cream of mushroom soup can, I wondered if Andy Warhol made green bean casserole for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud and nearly dropped my phone. Turning around, I saw a sparkle in Sarah’s eye, and soon I learned there was always a little bit of mischief going on in the mind of the young banker.

  Sarah polished off her bratwurst and asked, “So is he handsome? I can’t imagine that he’s ugly, or you probably would have pointed that out. I’ve got an idea about his appearance in my head. Let’s see if I’m right.”