Faing the Vows

Chapter 5

Max

The limo bounced over the potholes in the street that hadn't been fixed in ages. It was a shame that privatized corporations had entire small villages and neighborhoods within the city had better road care than our public roads but that was the state of things. Kind of like how Ava could have applied for and obtained medical help if she made only slightly less money, but she fell into a bracket where she couldn't afford to have it herself, and didn't qualify for aid. Which left her uninsured and dying.

"You're an idiot," my father said, grumbling about Ava even long after I'd put the conversation to bed. When Foreman, my CEO and friend, let it slip during our meeting earlier, Dad latched onto the topic and pressed every button I had.

"You're an ass," I told him, staring out the window. We had a relationship like this, but such was his personality anyway. Cold and stern men need to be dealt with in harsh ways or you lost yourself with them. I might have been kind at heart and a philanthropist as a matter of principle, but I knew how to stand my ground when needed.

"Maxwell, you're wasting your time. You might think this is a good idea, but all you're doing is encouraging her and other women like her to keep leaching off of you." He had one leg crossed over the other, his suit coat unbuttoned and fanned out against his hips, and his hands crossed on his lap. He called it his power pose; I called it the way old men sat when they were trying to look important.

I tapped the armrest with my finger and waited. His driver was carrying me to the hospital to visit Ava, and he wasn't pleased with the pitstop. He preferred if I'd just forget about helping her and focus on the projects I had stewing for work. After three years of helping rebuild this city to something great again, he finally saw the benefit of my gentrification efforts. I knew with time, he'd see what an amazing woman Ava was and how she had so much to offer this world.

"She isn't a gold digger, Dad. She didn't ask me for help, and she even refused to accept my money." My chest was always tight when I was in the same room with him. It was a defense mechanism, learned over the years based on his stern and often severe reactions to my words or choices. But at thirty-four I was a grown man and my money was mine. They got me started, and yes, I had a trust fund ready to be released to me upon his death, but my parents had no part in my personal net worth now. I was my own man, and I could do as I pleased, and sometimes it pleased me to piss them off.

"There you go. She refused your help which means she doesn't want it." He scoffed and shook his head. "Even the dogs don't want the crumbs from the king's table, boy. Wise up. Your reputation is important and clearly she--"

"Enough," I snapped, cutting him off. "Ava will accept my help. She just wants to do it her way. I have a plan to make sure both of those things can happen, and I don't care to hear your opinion about it." Dad and Mom hated that I even visited the shops in the strip where Perk Up did business. Their stubborn egos told them it was beneath me to stoop to the level of "poor people" who "couldn't even fix up their own neighborhoods." I doubted they even wanted to know what it felt like to be in a lower middle-class area.

Both of my grandparents were wealthy beyond belief--oil and energy--so both of my parents were born lacking nothing. I was too, but I saw the disparity between the way I lived, and the way some other children were raised when I was much younger. It made me want to share everything I had to see them smile. I'd give away my toys or electronics, and a few times I gave away my shoes or clothes.

I still lived that way now, though I did have some expensive tastes too. Ava was one of them. Some men would buy a sports car and try to get a girl by driving around revving the engine. Others might lavish her in gifts or expensive trips to woo her. I just wanted her to live, and I knew she was too prideful to accept any material gifts anyway. If paying for her surgery didn't show her I was interested and wanted to care for her, I'd find a different way.

"I'll call you," I told Dad when the limo stopped, and I climbed out without the help of his driver. It was my silent rebellion to his lifestyle and opinions, though he knew damn well I hated both.

When the barista told me to visit Ava again, that now she was allowing visitors, I didn't hesitate, though I had that meeting to attend first. My compulsion to fix things for her wouldn't let me rest. I'd done my research day and night, hired my own legal team out of my own pocket to research for me, and I had barely slept. If there was a way, I would find it, and if Ava agreed to this insane plan I came up with, it just might work.

I knocked on her door gently before walking in. When I did, I was shocked to see her standing and wearing her normal clothing instead of a hospital gown. She looked fresh too, like someone had done her makeup and helped her shower. The look of recognition on her face was different than the look of surprise I thought I'd see.

"Hi," she said softly as she tucked some articles of clothing into her bag.

"Hi," I said, confused. "You're getting released?" I asked, and she shrugged a shoulder.

"They need the bed, and I have no insurance." Her timid statement wrenched my heart.

I hated places like this, machines that chewed people up and spat them out. It didn't matter that she was suffering, the bed for someone who could pay was more important than her life. Certainly there were amazing doctors and nurses who deeply cared, but they couldn't stand up to Goliath either.

"Let me help," I told her, nudging her aside. I forced her to sit in what should have been my chair as I tucked the rest of the things she had piled on the bed into the small worn backpack. I couldn't believe with her prognosis that they were discharging her. She needed nurses to check on her and monitor her vitals. "I'll hire a team, Ava," I said, but I knew her response before I said it.

"You don't have to, Max. I'm ready to die."

Her words physically hurt my chest. She was so young and full of life still, so much to do before she died, and she had resigned herself to letting this disease win. I zipped up the bag but left it lying on the bed then turned and crouched in front of her.

"I know you're stubborn," I told her, taking her hands. "But I can't let you die alone. I am going to hire a nurse to live in your apartment with you and care for you..." I pressed my lips together. My plan would sound ridiculous to her, shocking even, but it would work if she would let me do it.

"Why are you doing this? I can't pay you back." Ava's lip quivered, and I understood why. She was scared maybe of me, maybe of death, maybe of losing herself. Her eyes searched my face and I had no explanation other than I cared. I deeply cared about what happened to her.

"I have a way to fix this for you and it's going to sound insane, but if we move quickly the insurance will cover everything. It will even cover the in-home health nurse. You will get a massive bill, but nothing like the million-plus it would be without my idea." I squeezed her hands and made sure she was looking into my eyes. "You will live and you will be able to pay for it yourself. Not a penny from me."

Her face narrowed in confusion, and she shook her head. "But how? I have a preexisting condition. I don't qualify for anything, and even if I did, I can't pay premiums right now. The bill might bankrupt me. I'd be better off just dying."

Her eyes were full of emotion but not tears. I could see her yearning for my answer, the one that would rescue her. She studied me and licked her dry cracked lips.

"Marry me," I said, and she drew back with wide eyes in shock.

"What? Are you insane?" Ava pulled her hands away, as if I were a leper or a creep. I gave her space and backed away, kneeling now because my toes were going numb. "Max, I don't even know you. You flirt with me at work and give me large tips. I can't--"

"It's just an arrangement. A marriage of convenience, or a fake relationship, whatever you want to call it." Her face was still showing shock and she started panting, so I explained further, being aware that her breathing seemed very labored. "If you marry me, I can put you on my insurance. No premiums, no out of pocket cost. They have to accept you as my wife, and they can't disallow your condition. It's written in my policy." Pressing my lips together I waited, watching her expression shift to disbelief.

"That's... it's just... I can't marry you, Max." Ava sounded so ghostly now I was concerned she'd pass out. She was wheezing and having trouble taking a breath. She started coughing and her chest rattled but I couldn't back down. I knew this would keep her alive.

"It will save your life, Ava." I barely got the phrase out before a nurse walked in with a wheelchair.

The woman also brought a portable oxygen tank which she quickly set up and helped Ava get it strapped to her face. The wheezing eased and the woman stood back and hovered for a moment. My guess was that she was the sort who knew Ava needed to stay a while longer.

However, she was cheery and loud, and Ava was swarmed with forms to fill out and papers to sign. I hovered over her, not knowing her answer, but not really willing to take no for an answer. They called an ambulance for transport and while we waited in the entryway for it to arrive, I texted my driver, telling him to pick me up immediately to follow the bus to Ava's apartment. I told her I'd follow; she didn't protest.

On the way I made some arrangements, ordering someone to come to her home immediately. It was the same people who cared for my aunt in her final moments, and they knew me well. I donated generously to the organization after my aunt passed, and they were all too ready to allow me to hire their staff to care for Ava, with a promise to send someone to her home this evening, and when she tried to say goodbye to me at the curb, I told her I'd stay until the nurse got there. It was the least I could do.

Now if I could just convince her to accept my strange proposal, half the hard work would be done.

Chapter 6

Ava

Max followed me up the steps to my second-floor apartment. I was huffing the whole way, but that was normal for me. What wasn't normal was the weakness in my legs and the anxious butterflies in my belly. A man of his status had never been in this building let alone my apartment. I didn't know why he felt so personally obligated to me either.

Why Max asked me to marry him in a ruse to get me on his insurance I'd never know. I had to hand it to him; it was a crafty way to skirt some of the stricter policies of some of the insurance companies. But a marriage of convenience meant lots of confusing emotions, and I already had enough to worry about. I felt weak and stupid, like I was letting him march into my life and control me the way my father had done to my mother. I hated myself for that, but part of me felt like Kelsey was right and I was missing my lifeboat because I was being prideful.

"You want to come in?" I asked, trying to be polite. The man had been the only one advocating for my life this entire time, except maybe Kelsey and her stern lectures. He seemed to care about me more than I cared about myself. It was only right to have hospitality. He insisted on waiting for his home nurse to come by, and I couldn't argue with him. I didn't want a nurse, but I didn't have energy to fight him.

"I'd love to," he said, but he waited for me to enter first, then followed me and set my bag on the dining table which was right next to the door.

The place was small and cluttered, probably the polar opposite of his mansion. I assumed he had a mansion as wealthy as he was. He was an architect too, so probably something he designed himself. Not at all like this cookie-cutter apartment building with square rooms and white walls. The landlord wouldn't even let me hang pictures or artwork. Even my shelves weren't anchored against the wall due to a policy about not putting holes in the walls.

"Sorry I don't have anything in the fridge or whatever..." I shuffled to the couch and sat on the arm. I didn't know how long he'd stay, and I had no way to be hospitable, let alone the energy involved in that. I should have had soda or at least water, but the city water wasn't potable in my opinion. It smelled like chlorine and tasted like chemicals. I preferred bottled water but had none right now. Id' been waiting for my next paycheck to do a grocery run and living off of the sandwiches Perk Up served in the meantime.

"Can I get you a water or something?" Here he was in my apartment trying to serve me. The man was insane, but he was cute and I felt myself warming to him.

For at least six months he visited me twice a day at least. Sometimes more. Once, he caught me right when I was on my morning break. He sat across from me while I sipped my coffee and chatted with me. I liked it. He was a nice guy, and I'd admit to being attracted to him, maybe even aroused by him. But he was powerful too, the type of guy who could manipulate a woman by flagging money around. I needed money, and I didn't want to be tempted to do whatever he wanted just to keep him happy. I was better off just putting a wall up and pretending he didn't have it bad for me. It'd be easier that way when he tired of me and left me broke and helpless again.

"Uh, no. That's okay." I coughed a little and he rushed to my side, but I waved him off. There was nothing he could do. The cough was pretty persistent now. When it subsided he was still next to me hovering. He guided me onto the couch and sat beside me, but not so close it was uncomfortable.

I studied his face, the small scar on his lip, the way his crow's feet aged him slightly. He was handsome and he was focused on me. The fierce concentration in his eyes made me feel vulnerable and yet safe at the same time.

"Why do you insist on helping me? Max, you barely know me."

Max started to explain his reasoning, but I was lost, captivated by how big his heart seemed. He told me of how he helped Greg, the homeless man who lived on the corner. One day he was just gone and Kelsey and I thought he died or moved, but it turned out Max helped him get a job and an apartment, then required nothing in return for his help. What sort of person did that?

He kept talking too, telling me how he liked our talks at Perk Up, how pretty he thought my smile was, and I found myself wanting to touch him, to trace the lines on his face with my fingers. I clenched my hands into fists and tucked them into my armpits, but I was so distracted by how good he smelled I couldn't focus still.

The musk of his cologne invaded the whole apartment, sucking me in. I breathed him in deep and closed my eyes, thinking of how his lips would feel if he kissed me. I'd thought that a few times while I made his coffee. I'd felt the spark too, when his fingertips touched mine as I gave him the drink.

Max had gotten to me a long time ago though I'd never admit it to him or Kelsey. I'd fantasized about him being the ga-zillionaire who turned me into Cinderella and clothed me in some lavish gown, dancing well into the night only to go back to his place and make sensual love.

It was that fantasy that played out in my mind as he kept talking. I didn't even hear him anymore. I was in his bedroom, feeling his hands on my skin comforting me, removing one layer of clothing after another as his finger searched my body and his lips followed their path. My skin against his skin, our bodies tangled in one another.

It was so real I could almost feel him touching me, the way my core would warm and roil against his touch. I wanted to feel that, but I wanted to feel it without losing myself, without becoming someone I didn't recognize. My heart longed for it too, to be safe inside his or someone's; maybe not his. As long as that person was safe and wanted me to be safe.

"Ava?" I heard, and I sucked in a long, slow deep breath. Then I opened my eyes. "Are you okay?" Max asked, and I watched his perfect supple lips form each syllable.

"I'm alright," I told him, but I wasn't really. I was hurting, aching inside for someone to make all of this vanish. Max couldn't make it go away, but he could make it easier. But marrying him? Then what? Divorce later on and I'd tell any man in my future that I was already a divorcee?

"You look pale, maybe you should lie down." Max was very tender, but he was bold. He stood and took a throw pillow from his end of the couch and positioned it near my end, then helped me lie down. His fingers gently untied the laces of my shoes and he slid them off one at a time.

I imagined his hands trailing up my legs to my hips, then the button of my jeans. Pictured him undoing them and sliding them down and kneeling in front of me to pleasure me with his tongue. I closed my eyes again almost wistfully wishing he'd do it, that he'd just ravish me with such deep emotion and sexual connection that I'd wake up in his arms realizing this was a nightmare and I was actually his. Really his, in love and somewhere far from this reality.

"Please let me get you something to drink or eat," he said, crouching in front of me. His tie dangled between his knees and his hands rested on the cushion in front of me.

I looked up into his eyes and didn't see a trace of lust or desire there, though if he was being honest with me when he asked me out so many times, I knew he desired me. What I saw was compassion, and a look I'd only ever seen in my mother's eyes. Love.

"I'm not hungry," I told him, but I was. So very hungry for him to ignore all of my previous rejections and just make me his, even if all that meant was him lying here holding me while I slept so I could feel safe again and not tormented.

"I'm going to call my friend, Gustavo. He's a chef. He'll bring you some soup, okay?" Max's fingers tucked a strand of my sandy-brown hair around my ear and I reached up and held his palm against my face.

"Stay with me?" I asked, feeling sleep tugging at my eyes. Somehow, even though a nurse was medically trained to care for my needs, I wanted him. The stranger. The man I didn't even know.

"I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to." His lips pursed, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but I didn't let his hand go. Not until he lowered his face and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Then I slept. With the feeling of his kiss on my skin, with the warmth of his hand against my cheek, with the feeling of desperation and hopelessness in my heart and a scream in my gut that pleaded with him to save me. I slept.

Chapter 7

Max

Gustavo had the soup prepared along with fresh rolls and fresh-churned butter and had it on Ava's doorstep in under thirty minutes. She slept soundly and I put in a grocery order for her too. Her cupboards were empty, only a few cans of store-bought soup and some sour produce in the fridge. I was sure she didn't intend for things to be like this, but I also knew she should be resting, not out and about getting groceries.

When the soup arrived the doorbell woke her from her light napping. I gathered the white paper bags from the delivery man and tipped him well, then set everything on her modest dining table. I wasn't put off by her small apartment or the slight clutter. She was human like everyone else and had a busy life. I figured she probably had so little time to worry about house cleaning, and unlike me, she couldn't hire staff to do it for her.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes and I heard her wheezing. My mind immediately went to the oxygen tank in the bag on the table. She probably needed that but she hadn't mentioned anything and when we got here I was just so consumed with her comfort I hadn't thought of it.