The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,51
realized I was being dumb. This was Aiden. Maybe he’d done something shitty by not defending me, but if I really thought about it, he probably wouldn’t have defended Zac either. He’d said time and time again in interviews that he solely wanted to focus on his career while he had it. From every interview that had ever been made with one of his coaches, they all said the same thing: he was the most single-minded, hardworking player they had ever come across.
He started playing football his junior year of high school. Junior year. Most NFO caliber players had been on the field since they were old enough to walk. Yet Aiden had a calling, Leslie, his high school coach had said. He became a phenomenon in no time at all, and attended a university on a football scholarship. Not just any run of the mill school either, but a top one. One that he’d won a few championships with, and even graduated with a degree from.
Damn it.
God damn it.
He wouldn’t be asking me to do this if he didn’t think he had to.
And I was well aware that people didn’t change unless they wanted to, and this was a man who did whatever he put his mind to.
This pitiful, resigned sigh pulled its way out of my lungs. An answer to what he was asking of me sat at the front of my brain, at the tip of my tongue, curled in the pit of my belly. Was there any other possible response that wouldn’t lead me to being the biggest idiot on the planet?
“Let’s say we can. How long… how long would we have to stay marr—?” I couldn’t say it on the first try. “Stay married for?” I rushed out in a small voice.
He made sure to look me right in the eye when he answered. “Five years would make it seem less suspicious. I would only be given a conditional green card at first. After two years, I could get a permanent one.”
Five years? Aiden was thirty now; he’d be thirty-five. I was twenty-six for the remainder of the year. I’d be thirty-one when we’d technically get divorced. Thirty-one wasn’t old, not even close to it. The number didn’t seem as atrocious as it should have… if I was really considering agreeing.
But still. Five years. A lot could happen in that period of time. What I knew most though, was that there was no way in hell I could manage to pay off my loans in ten years, much less five, even if I sold my car, rode the bus everywhere, disconnected my cell phone, and ate ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Five years,” I repeated, blowing out a breath. “Okay.”
“Makes sense?”
I eyed him, reminding myself that I wasn’t saying yes to him yet. We were just talking. “Yes, it makes sense. If I were saying yes, which I’m not doing right now, so calm your horses.” I’d give myself a pat on the back later for being so ballsy and firm.
He stared at me evenly, unfazed. “What else are you worried about?”
I huffed. “Everything?”
Aiden blinked at me. “About what? I’ll pay off what you owe and buy you a house.”
Think, Van. Think. It couldn’t go this easily. I had some honor, and I hadn’t completely forgiven him for being a jackass, despite his possibly manipulative and forced apologies earlier. My pride had a price too, and it was that idea that had me swallowing hard and meeting the gaze that for so long had forced me to look elsewhere.
“What if your career ends tomorrow?” I asked, despite how much of a gold digger it made me sound. This was a business deal, and I was going to treat it like one.
One of his eyebrows went a little funny. “You know how much money is in my bank account.”
He had a point.
“If I didn’t work the rest of my life, I would be fine. You know I don’t handle my money irresponsibly either,” he stated in an almost insulted tone. By that, he meant he could still go through with what he was offering me, and be okay in the end.
“I’m not going to be your assistant again either.” I made sure to keep my eyes on him even though I really, really didn’t want to. “I’ve worked really hard to do my design work full-time, and I’m not going to give it up.”
That wide, square jaw hardened, and I could tell his teeth were