His Contract Wife

12: 45 pm.

Where was Carlson?

Leilani May Collins hated tardiness. They agreed to meet by 12:30 pm but she was here fifteen minutes earlier. Her phone vibrated and she snatched it off the table before it could ring out. It was Carlson.

“Hey,” she said into the phone.

“Hey, Leila.” His voice sounded the same as it did on their previous calls. Freya, her best friend, might have put the idea that he might be a catfish into her head. “Sorry, I’m running late.”

Leila stopped tapping the silk covered table and refolded the napkin. If Carlson wasn’t so handsome and probably a potential man in her life, she might have left the diner. She sipped from her glass of water that had gone warm. He was one point down in her book.

“Alright. How long until you get here?”

“Ten minutes top,” he replied.

“Fine. I’ll be waiting.”

Setting the glass down, Leila played a game of candy crush on her phone until her phone pinged with a text from Freya. She groaned almost immediately at the content of the text. It was yet another selfie from her best friend. Freya was at a wedding Leila refused to tag along to. Following Freya was equivalent to setting herself up for a blind date. It had become Freya’s mission to hook Leila up with any available but eligible bachelor.

The two went back and forth, exchanging selfies and texts. Leila swiped another look at her phone. Twenty minutes were gone. She almost dialled Freya to come get her out of here but on second thoughts, she waited.

Carlson could have a good reason for being late. So far, he has been a great companion. Though this date was happening because she insisted on it, Leila would give him the benefits of the doubt. She would wait an extra ten minutes, then leave. Maybe even delete Tinder. That app wasn’t working for her. It might if she put more effort into making her profile more attractive and used an actual picture of herself instead of Freya’s cat.

Her brown eyes roamed the place, watching other paired diners laugh and hug with a tinge of jealousy. One peek at her wristwatch and she flashed her reflection on the window a grim smile.

Five minutes and she was gone.

Murmurs from the table ahead made her raise her head. A couple were arguing and it was attracting attention to them. While one waiter went to them to diffuse the situation, another came to her table to ask for her order. Leila remembered his face. He had come here twice already. She skimmed through the menu, confused and amused by the items on the list. This type of restaurant wasn’t usually her cup of tea but she wanted to impress this Carlson guy.

“Can I have a milkshake?” The waiter glared at her like she had vomited on their off-white tablecloth. His black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Might be why he was looking so constipated. “I’ll order when my date arrives.”

On a curt nod, he walked away without a word. She scowled at his retreating figure, was she going to get her milkshake or what? Her phone vibrated on the table. Freya was calling her.

Leila didn’t pick.

The call ended and a text followed. Her best friend wanted to know if her date had arrived and she was having fun. Fun indeed. At this point, she didn’t care anymore. She made to leave but the waiter approached her table with a tray holding her milkshake. She forced a smile to her lips but he didn’t reciprocate it.

“Thanks.”

He probably thought of her as one of those people who stopped at a restaurant without buying anything. Wrong. Leila was only here for one person. And he could go to hell.

Staring at her phone, she gave in to the urge to reply and sent Freya a text with some sad eye emojis. Her phone beeped immediately.

Freya: You should come here. The wedding is almost over.

Leila: No, thank you.

Freya: Come. Join us at the reception. Eat some cake.

Rising to her feet, Leila used the empty glass to cover the milkshake. Her feet ached from being in heels all afternoon. She wore heels for this man. To make an appearance like her silly best friend suggested. The waiter from earlier was serving a table when she walked past him but the scalding look he sent in her direction made her steps waver.

“I’m not leaving yet!” she spat at him.

Some heads turned to her, she flashed them a smile reserved for her colleagues and continued to the restroom. Gripping the rim of the sink, her heart slowed. Her reflection in the mirror stared at her and her red lips parted in a fake, practised smile.

Black hair cascaded down her shoulders, her brown eyes were highlighted by the makeup surrounding it. She wouldn’t be the prettiest girl in a room by any standard but she was pretty enough. On instinct, her fingertips brushed the dark mark on her jaw. She turned on the faucet and rinsed her hands.

What if Carlson didn’t come because she refused to send him her nudes? Either way, Leila was done with this stupid date. She dried her hands under the automatic hand dryer attached to the wall, patted her hair one last time and pried the toilet door open.

The male restroom was beside the female. Leila stepped out at the same time as a man in a suit who bumped into her, causing her to wobble on the damn heels. He mouthed, “Sorry,” without so much as a glance in her direction and the only thing she had to remember him by was the wallet at her feet.

It wasn’t hers. Scowling, she picked it up and followed the path he took. She ignored the waiter giving her cold looks, rushing out to find the owner of the wallet. She wouldn’t be so silly to make an order without paying for it.

The cool afternoon air hit her face, her hair tickled her neck and she whisked it into a high bun. Where was he? Straining her neck to see beyond the mini fence separating her from the parking lot, she caught sight of him and jogged as fast as an amateur on heels could.

Bent over with his hand flat on the roof of his car, she could barely get a glimpse of his face. His side profile was stiff. He was still on his phone call. Bits of the conversation filtered in and out of her ear.

“Jesus Christ! I am on my way, Madonna,” the man barked into the receiver. Leila flinched at his tone. She didn’t want to be on the other side of the phone. As if noticing her for the first time, he cocked his head slightly without giving her a full view of his face. “Yes?”

Okay. Someone was in a mood. Leila pointed behind her, trying to form the words to explain to him that his wallet dropped to the floor in front of the restroom. The man sighed. He moved his phone from his left to his right ear and opened the backdoor.

“Step aside, lady. I don’t have time for this.”

With that, he slid into his car and shut the door, leaving her to glare at her twin image on the tinted window. She scoffed. Very well, she pivoted on her heels and stormed back to the restaurant.

The gentle breeze from the air-conditioner welcomed her back in. She manoeuvred to her table and sunk into the seat. The milkshake had almost melted but she slurped on it that way. Her phone vibrated as she was rounding up and she unlocked it to view the message from Carlson.

He was here.

Eyes roaming the diner for the tall, model-like man on Carlson’s profile, her heart slammed against her chest when a short man who she might even be taller than waved at her from the door. The milkshake no longer tasted milky, she tried to stand, maybe run out of here but her feet refused to work.

God, please no. Let this not be her date. This could not be Carlson. But the man strolled towards her table.

“Leilani, right?”

“R... right,” she whispered.

He pulled the chair in front of her and sat. “Hi.