Those three days passed quickly. Saturday morning, Vincent was awake at six and rushed downstairs to his computer. His phone had alerted him five minutes ago that the website was open to him to start searching for his top picks for a wife. He was could choose five, and then the experts would suggest their top choice from there. He could always go with someone else, but this was new to him. He would go with whomever they suggested.
He logged into the website and clicked on the women’s profiles. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but pages and pages filled with smiling faces was not it. The day wasn’t long enough for him to look through every single woman. A heart appeared next to several, and when his mouse hovered over it, he saw these were to mark those compatible with the answers he gave on his questionnaire. He sorted the women by the ones only with hearts and by their names, and the results still filled over twenty pages.
“Handy,” he uttered and tapped his fingers on his desk. “All right, coffee and then the hunt for a wife begins.”
Steam rose from the black liquid in his mug, and he sat down at his desk and started on page one. He clicked on each woman he found attractive with a heart by her name and skimmed through their profiles. He chose those he thought he might have a chance with. When he reached the fifteenth page, he had chosen only three and worried this plan wasn’t going to work after all. His excitement had built over the last three days thinking his house might not feel so empty soon, that he would actually have someone who cared for him to come home to at night. After a few hours, though, that excitement waned as he glowered at the screen. On the final page, a face framed by long, blonde hair caught his eye. The woman’s eyes were dark blue and her smile was genuine.
“Lana Jenkins.” He read her name aloud and clicked on her face.
Her profile showcased an excellent resume of graduating from Texas A&M. Since then, she had accepted a job working at a local law office and had several high recommendations from past internships. Aside from that, her likes focused on being outdoors, hiking, and fishing, though she admitted she was terrible at it. He was more intrigued by this woman with each sentence he read about her until he wanted to meet her. Talk to her. He spotted a message icon at the top by her name and decided he would send her a message and introduce himself briefly. If he did that, the experts would see his interest lay mostly with this woman.
Once the message was sent, merely saying who he was and what he was looking for and his belief they could be compatible, he sent the whole list of selections and sat back, drinking his coffee. A woman who enjoyed the outdoors as much as he did would be a perfect match, especially if he took the time to go back to the ranch every weekend as he planned. Something always seemed to come up to stop him, but if he had more motivation to get out there, he could find some semblance of happiness again. Doris never went anymore. She said it reminded her too much of the good times with Liam and she wasn’t ready for that yet. Those memories were all Vincent wanted.
“She’s also the ideal woman for someone running for political office,” he mused as he stared at her picture again. She was gorgeous, educated, and had a great job. He didn’t have to worry about skeletons falling out of her closet.
All that was left to do was wait.
Natalie’s hand moved her mouse, readjusting her character’s position on the screen. “I said don’t stand in the red circles, you idiots!” she yelled into the mic at her mouth.
“Don’t yell at me, woman,” a man’s voice called back. “Damn it! Why did we think this was a good idea?”
“I never said it was a good idea,” Natalie reminded him and the rest of their group.
Her fingers tapped rapidly on the keys of her keyboard as she watched the health of her raid group fall drastically as the boss they fought in the dungeon wailed on them hard. She cursed when her character took a massive hit and the healers failed. She died and yelled in aggravation.
“All right, guys, let’s wipe it,” she sighed “I’m calling it, too. It’s one in the morning.”
“Whatever you say, bossy lady,” Gary, one of the other gamers in the group, said.
“We’ll try again Monday night. Everyone still good for the time”’ She heard a chorus of yesses before logging out of the game and removing her headset.
“You know,” a voice said behind her, and Natalie jumped with a yelp out of her chair, “you’re pretty amusing to watch while you raid. I think I might start recording you simply for shits and giggles.”
Natalie glared at her identical twin sister Lana as she walked into the room. “I already do. It’s called streaming. You should try it some time. People can watch those wrinkles in your forehead get deeper and deeper as you sink into that horrible, boring job of yours.”
Lana’s hand shot to her forehead as she rushed to see her reflection in the mirror. Natalie hooted with delight behind her. “That is not funny.”
“Actually, it is—so funny that in a week, I’m going to do it again and you’ll still fall for it. You give us blondes a bad name.” She hung her headphones on their stand and logged the stats from her game on the website. “Did you want something or did you just feel the need to burst into my room at one in the morning?”
“You’re not the only night owl in the family.”
“Yes, and this night owl is about to get started grading papers.”
Lana rolled her eyes and flopped onto her sister’s bed. “Now who’s got the wrinkles?”
Natalie’s hand was halfway to her face before she grunted and forced it back down. “Whatever.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Of what?” she asked incredulously. “Sitting in a stuffy office all day, surrounded by men in suits who have their noses up their asses half the time? Or dealing with businessmen who are too big for their britches? Or even better, the rich bastard politicians you happen to have as clients? Please tell me which part of that makes me jealous of you.”
Lana tapped her finger against her lip like she had since they were little. “Uh, all of it, because I have a real job.”
Natalie spun completely around in her chair, her legs pulled up beneath her, and rested her head in the palm of her hand. “I have a real job. Where do you think my money comes from? It’s not like I go out and work the corner.”
Lana smirked. “I meant a job where I actively socialize with people.”
“I socialize,” Natalie said, stiffening in her chair.
“Online gaming does not count. Do you even know those people in real life?”
Natalie tugged at one of the many earrings running up her right ear and shrugged noncommittedly. “That doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does. You never leave this damn apartment. I’m worried about you.”
At her sister’s sudden serious tone, Natalie glanced up and their blue eyes met. Lana’s were darker than Natalie’s, one of the only ways some people could tell them apart. At least physically. Lana had no piercings or tattoos and was usually dressed in leggings or skirts and dresses. Natalie, on the other hand, was quite at home in jeans and boots, or slacks if she had to dress up. Both of her ears boasted piercings along with a tattoo on the back of her right hand, another on the sole of her left foot, and a large one that covered her entire back. She rolled her shoulders, thinking of the phoenix and its flames stretching from the base of her neck down to her ass. That had cost her a pretty penny, but it was much better to look at than what was underneath it.
“You shouldn’t worry,” Natalie finally said lightly. “I’m fine, I promise. I enjoy my life.”
“That I do not believe. You’re not as happy as you used to be, and you hardly ever hang out with our friends. They’re worried too, by the way, and threatening an intervention.”
Natalie’s lips thinned. “Of course they are. I’m not a drug addict!”
“No, you’re a hermit, and we don’t tolerate hermits. There’s so much to this world and you’re sitting here wasting away. Don’t you want a boyfriend?” Lana pressed.
She glowered at her sister and spun back around in her chair. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Just because you had one bad apple—” Natalie shot her a glare over her shoulder. “Okay, two…maybe three? That doesn’t mean they’re all like that!”
“I know, but I’m happy focusing on my job right now.”
“Being an online professor for a junior college is not a job. It’s a point of no return. Have you even signed up for your PhD program yet?”
Natalie’s fingers hovered over the keys as her eyes narrowed. “I can’t take those courses online.”
“And that’s a problem because?”
“You know exactly why,” she muttered, whipping back around in her chair. “The world has not been as kind to me as it has to you, remember?” She twisted her fingers around each other until she gave in and cracked each and every one, ignoring her sister’s glare. “It was hard enough finishing my Masters.”
“Which you received with high honors. You were even offered internships and you turned them all down because you’re scared.”
Natalie’s mouth fell open indignantly. “I am not scared.”
“Oh, really?” Lana crossed her arms over her chest. “Prove it then. Go back to school. You’re too smart to be sitting in your room all day and you know it! You’re proving everyone right, just so you know. Is that really what you want? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not the Natalie I know.”
The Natalie Lana knew, the Natalie all her friends knew, had disappeared three years ago. She lied and told Lana repeatedly the nightmares had stopped, but nearly every night, she saw those flames and heard the roaring of the fire as it crept closer. She had barely survived the crash, bearing the scars to prove just what type of hell she had gone through. Of course, it had to happen right at the peak of grad school when she was showing the world what she could do and the ideas she had locked away in her head. After the accident, they really were locked away in her head. She lost so many memories and struggled, sometimes, to recall faces of people she knew.
“I’m trying,” she whispered, her shoulders sagging. “It’s hard though, all right? I still can’t get into a car without having a panic attack!”
“I know,” Lana said and hurried to hold her sister’s hands, kneeling before her chair, “but you have to keep trying. Please? If not for me, then do it for yourself. You deserve more.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wiped them away quickly.
“Don’t start that blubbery shit with me. It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, but I was supposed to be in the car with you!”
Natalie sank to the floor beside her sister as she cried. “I don’t blame you, so stop it. I’m glad you weren’t in the car. They told me the passenger side was completely crushed. You would’ve died, Lana. I can’t lose my twin.”
Lana nodded against her shoulder. “I’m sorry about those assholes.”
Natalie gritted her teeth. “It’s not your fault those guys couldn’t handle scars.”
She briefly recalled the few guys she’d dated after the accident, and each one had freaked at the sight of her back and arms. They were burn scars. She knew they weren’t pretty, but how hard was it to really see past something like that to the person beneath? After her third failed date two years ago, she got the tattoo and decided dating was not in her best interest.
Lana sat up and wiped the rest of the tears from her eyes. “I guess I should tell you why I came here tonight.”
Natalie’s lips twitched with a smirk. “It wasn’t to nag your twin for the thousandth time?”
Lana cringed. “No, actually, it’s about something else and you’re going to hate me for it.”
“You didn’t set me up on a blind date, did you?” Lana’s lips clamped shut tightly and her cheeks reddened. Natalie’s heart sank and she groaned. “What the hell did you do?”
“You remember that website I signed up for like six months ago?” she asked, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.
Natalie tilted her head, trying to remember, but it was hard. Everything was fuzzy. She started to shake her head then paused when the memory of that night came back and she laughed. “You mean the married at first sight shit? The one you tried to get me to sign up for?”
“I thought it was a good idea at the time,” she argued.
“You broke up with Alex in the heat of the moment, signed up for it, and then got back together with him two weeks later! Which is when, I might add, he proposed to you.” Lana nodded slowly, not meeting Natalie’s eyes. “So, what are you trying to tell me?”
“Some guy was a match for me on the website and sent me a message.”
Natalie waited for her to explain, but no other words left her mouth. “And what am I supposed to do with this information?”
“I was just thinking—and you can totally say no if you want—but since we’re identical twins, you could kind of take over the account for me and…you know, see what happens.”
Natalie swore she heard her wrong. She blinked furiously for a minute before her quiet laughter turned into howling as she gripped her middle and rolled on the floor. When she could finally talk again, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye, she saw Lana wasn’t smiling at all. Her gut twisted as she quickly sat back up. “You’re serious?”
“Of course I’m serious! This could be really good for you.”
“To be married to some rich bastard I don’t even know yet?” Natalie screamed. “What is wrong with you?”
“Oh, come on, Nat, give it a chance,” Lana pleaded as Natalie pushed to her feet and stormed out of her bedroom to the kitchen. “It’s only for twelve weeks!”
Natalie dug around in the fridge for a beer, popped the cap off, and chugged half of it while she glared at her sister. When she lowered it, smacking her lips at the heavy lager taste, she shook her head. “Why am I not surprised you’d ask me to do something like this? You’re asking me to be you, for three months, with a strange man. How is this not a bad idea?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet,” she informed her quickly. “Which means you can act like yourself the whole time. You’ll just have to use my name.”
“You think he won’t notice I’m not a damn lawyer?”
“You could tell him you’re taking a sabbatical from work. My bosses like me enough, it’s believable.”
“And if we hit it off, then what? I wait until we have three kids and a house before I come clean and tell him I’m not my twin sister? Jesus, Lana, this has bad news written all over it. I can’t!”
Lana’s face reddened even more than before, and she laid her hands on the counter. “You’re being a chicken and you know it. I’m offering you a chance to get out of this cramped apartment and figure yourself out! If you don’t like the man you can divorce him at the end of the twelve weeks, no harm, no foul. He never has to know that you were acting as me.”
Natalie chugged the rest of her beer, hating the voice in the back of her mind actually contemplating this idea. Marry a stranger, just like that? Before the accident, she did lots of crazy shit, was the adventurous one of the two. Since then, her adventures were online and in books.
It’s time, the voice said sternly. She’s right. You’re being a chicken. It’s three months. Get out of the apartment, get away from your job, and go back to the real world.
She opened her mouth to say no but instead, found herself asking, “Can I see what he looks like before I say yes?”
Lana squealed in delight and told her to wait there while she fetched her laptop.
Natalie dug around in the fridge for a second beer and had drunk half by the time her sister returned and set the laptop on the counter. “You do realize how much I loathe you at this moment in time, right? Like you can feel it surrounding you?”
Lana ignored her as she logged into her computer and brought up the browser. “There, see? Isn’t he handsome?”
Natalie prayed he wasn’t so she could have the easy decision to tell her sister she was a nut and be finished with it, but the man’s picture caught her eye. She set her beer down gently and sidled closer to see the image more clearly. His shoulder-length brown hair and the scruff on his face gave him a rugged look she’d always adored on men, but his eyes pulled her in. They reminded her of dark chocolate, and she licked her lips absently as she admired the sharp angle of his jaw and the smooth line of his cheekbones, balancing his face almost perfectly. Then her eyes drifted to his name and her hands gripped the edge of the counter.
“Cunningham?” she gasped.
“Uh huh,” Lana replied, grinning from ear to ear.
“As in Vincent Cunningham? As in the damn billionaire who’s supposedly running for Congress?”
“Yes, that’s the one. He also runs an oil company and owns several cattle ranches,” Lana added, pointing to the screen. “He is quite the man.”
She nodded but immediately shook her head and pushed away from the counter. “No, no! I can’t do this. It’s insane, completely and utterly insane.” She crossed her arms and padded around the living room, wishing her eyes would stop glancing back at the man’s face with that smoldering look and those lips—lips she bet had kissed at least a hundred women and left them wanting more.
Lana caught up with her and stopped her, placing her hands on her twin’s shoulders. “Honestly, Natalie, what have you got to lose?”
“Isn’t there something illegal about acting like someone else when you get hitched?”
“Eh, it’s not like you’re after his money or something. It’s a binding, confidential agreement. If you’re found out, the worst that will probably happen is you have to pay a fine and get a divorce right away, and sign some gag order,” Lana added and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think they would throw you in jail.”
“Lana!”
“I’m kidding. Just do it, please? Or at least talk to the man before you decide. You don’t have to say yes right away.”
Natalie groaned, her face dropping into her hands. “I hate you. I absolutely hate you.”
“I’m going to take that as a you’ll think about it,” Lana said cheerfully. “I’m going to bed, but I’ll leave that laptop sitting right there in case you decide to, you know, reply to his message.”
Natalie looked at the clock on the stove. “At one fifteen in the morning?”
“We’re not the only night owls in Houston. See you in the morning!” Lana kissed her on the cheek and skipped—literally skipped—into her bedroom. Her door closed, and Natalie was left alone with her laptop and his face watching her.
Tugging on the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt, Natalie stalked past the counter, picked up her beer, and trudged to her bedroom. She focused on the papers she needed to grade, but every few minutes, her fingers would stop and she imagined a life not in this apartment. A life with someone else in it. With a man in it she could find some companionship with and chase the ache away from her heart. By two in the morning, she gave up on her work.
“Screw it,” she whispered and tiptoed to the kitchen.
Her sister’s bedroom door was still closed, thank God. She picked up the laptop and carried it to the couch, settling between the overstuffed cushions. The message box was at the bottom of the screen, blinking with one message yet to be answered. The inbox filled half the screen, leaving Vincent Cunningham’s face visible, and she read through his words: Allow me to introduce myself, Lana. My name is Vincent Cunningham. I have been a successful businessman since the age of twenty-one when I inherited the two Cunningham family businesses. Based on your profile, I believe the two of us could be quite the compatible couple, and I do hope you take my proposal into serious consideration. I am also currently putting together a campaign to run for Congress next year, and having a wife by my side would help me in more ways than one. If you would like to ask any questions of me, please don’t hesitate to message me. I look forward to meeting you.
Natalie leaned her head back against the couch. He was going into politics. She abhorred politics with a passion. She was a science nerd, an astrophysicist in the making, and a sci-fi geek. How was she supposed to pull off being the kind of woman he needed to stand by his side at rallies and during dinners? She would have to take it all seriously—very seriously—and Natalie was not good at being serious. Before the accident, she might have composed herself better, but now? She was nearly as scatterbrained as her sister normally was, not to mention her piercings and tattoos were certainly not what any good voter would expect to see on the wife of their next Congressman.
She reached up, ready to close the laptop, when that nagging voice started again in her mind. She moved the cursor to the dialogue box. Her fingers tapped against the keys for a few seconds before the words she wanted popped into her head: It’s very nice to meet you, Vincent. I am happy you reached out to me and am curious about what situation led you to decide finding a wife through this website was a good choice for you. Not to judge, just simply curious. And of course, if you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask.
She hit send and reached up to close the laptop when a ding sounded. “He’s awake right now?” she muttered as she stared at the dots on the screen, indicating he was responding.
She read the first message briefly: I don’t mind you asking at all.
“Oh, God, what did I just start?” She picked nervously at the cuffs of her sweatshirt, waiting for his second message to appear. As she waited for the words to come up, she walked to the fridge for a third beer, figuring it was safer to get it now than wait, and plopped back down just as the ding sounded again.
Her eyes passed over the words: I tried dating over the years, but I never found the right woman for me. I don’t want that to sound as pathetic as it probably does, but I find myself at a crossroads in my life and going forward alone no longer seems appealing.
“Hmm, sounds familiar,” she said as she typed the words without giving it too much thought. “I too have found myself alone lately, unable to find that right fit.” Her finger hit enter, and the second the words appeared before her, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh shit.” She couldn’t open up to anyone but her twin, yet she had nearly spilled her fears and admitted her loneliness to a complete stranger.
The dots appeared again followed by a new message: I have to admit I’m surprised. Your profile comes across as a very sociable woman.
“Well,” she said as she typed, “appearances aren’t always all there is to a person. I guess I’m sociable when I have to be, but for the most part, I enjoy the peace and quiet of an evening with a good beer and good company. And I shouldn’t tell you that if you’re looking for someone to be by your side with the campaign.” When she went to hit enter, she paused. That was the truth, and if she was going to attempt to be with this man, she owed him at least that much truth since she her name and her true self would be hidden. “I’m sorry you wasted your time with me,” she added and hit send.
“Wasted my time?” Vincent murmured, sitting up closer to his computer at his desk. “What does she mean?” He watched to see if she would say anything else before his fingers set to work, hurrying to explain to her he hated the dinners and other shit just as much. “That’s why,” he whispered, “I need someone there with me to help get me through them. To laugh and remember that it will all be over soon.”
As the message sat on his screen, he anxiously awaited a response, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair as he rested his chin in the palm of his other hand. For a few minutes, he worried she’d gone offline, but the dots appeared and he breathed a sigh of relief.
He hadn’t expected to be up this late, but waiting to hear back from this woman—his potential wife—left him restless and pacing around the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He worried Lana and he would have nothing in common, but he did know one thing: she was a night owl like him. He drank the remainder of his beer as the next message finally appeared. Sitting up, his eyes scanned the words and his heart warmed even more towards this stranger: You need a sanity checker? Okay, that I think I can manage. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you running for Congress if you don’t like everything that goes along with it? Are you sure you even want to run? And I promise I’m asking as a concerned citizen.
After her words was a smiley face, winking at him. He felt her humor in those words and replied that he wondered that some days, too. He also told her she could always be honest with him about anything because honesty made a great foundation for a strong relationship. He wasn’t doing this just because. He was doing it so he could find a life partner and have a sliver of the happiness his parents had enjoyed while Liam was alive.
They chatted for the next hour or so about their lives and her work. He asked if this would throw off her career, but she told him she planned to take a sabbatical this summer anyway, to get some fresh air and step away from all the suits she was constantly surrounded by. She would be his for the whole summer, which would match up perfectly with the twelve-week marriage trial. He was curious about what her job entailed, but she avoided his questions until, with lips pursed, he gave up and asked about her family. He couldn’t imagine her parents liking their daughter doing something like this, but she told him she wasn’t really close to her parents because they lived in Maine since retiring. She had one sister, but that was it. He let her know he was an only child and it was only him and his mother.
“And all her new boyfriends,” he spoke as he typed.
A few minutes passed before she responded again: That’s hysterical to watch, I’m sure. Sorry for the delay, had to grab another beer.
He smiled, not about to admit he was worried when she didn’t reply as quickly as before. He was ready to type back another question when he caught the time. “Four in the morning? Damn it, I think I’m going in late today.”
He told her he had to go and hoped to talk to her again if she was up for it. She said she was and wished him good night. Vincent logged off his computer and stretched as he stood from his chair. When he saw Billy again, he would have to thank the man for pushing him towards this. Vincent thought internet dating was the worst way to meet women, but everything about that three-hour conversation seemed so natural. A voice of doubt gave him pause, though. She could have faked all those answers, telling him what he wanted to hear, but he shoved the voice away. The only way to know for sure was to marry the woman and find out who she was for himself.
He climbed the steps of his bedroom and flopped on the bed, his eyes closing when his phone vibrated with a new message. His hand searched the nightstand and held his phone over his face, showing him an e-mail from the marriage service.
As soon as he saw the words, he smiled and stretched again with relief. They’d matched him with Lana Jenkins. All that was left now was for her to say, “I do” and become his wife. Mrs. Vincent Cunningham.
