Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You

Hailey

The brownstone is gorgeous. It has high ceilings and gleaming hardwood floors, with the kind of kitchen that appears in home design magazines.

"This is where they put up talent?" Josh asks, running his hand along the marble countertop. "Maybe I should have been a model all along."

I snort, setting my camera bag down with much more care than Josh showed his luggage. "Don’t get used to it. This is temporary."

"Like all good things," Josh says. "So, which bedroom do you want?"

I hesitate, then point to a door down the hall. "That one has better light for morning shots. I’d like to use it to review my work."

"Done," Josh says, grabbing his bag and heading toward the other bedroom. "I’ll take the dark cave, then."

"It’s not a cave," I call after him. "It just doesn’t face east."

I watch him disappear into the second bedroom, and for a moment, I stand frozen in the entryway, trying to process the surreal turn my life has taken in just twenty-four hours.

Yesterday, I was flying to New York for my dream job. Today, I’m sharing a luxury brownstone with a man who followed me across the country on a whim—a man who’s now somehow part of my shoot.

With a deep breath, I wheel my suitcase toward the east-facing bedroom. The space is minimalist but elegant. A queen bed stood with crisp white linens, a desk by the window, and a small sitting area. I set my camera bag on the desk, then sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted.