PART 2 — The Man I Hired to Marry Me
“I’ll do it under ONE condition.”
I stared at that sentence until the letters blurred.
My laptop sat open on my bed, glowing in the dark like it had delivered a verdict.
One condition.
Of course there would be a condition.
Men always had one.
My fiancé’s condition had been simple.
Love me while I was healthy.
Leave me when I became inconvenient.
I read the actor’s message again.
“I’ll do it under ONE condition.”
My hands were so weak from crying that I almost dropped the laptop. I clicked reply.
What condition?
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The response came five minutes later.
His name on the agency page was Owen Hart.
Thirty-four years old.
The cheapest actor available on my wedding date.
His profile picture showed a tall man with brown hair, tired blue eyes, and the kind of face that looked like it had learned not to smile unless it meant it.
His reply was short.
No payment.
I blinked.
Then another message appeared.
And before I stand beside you at an altar, you let me take you to one more doctor.
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