Contractual Obligations (Aisle and Error, #1)

by Elle Rivers

My head spun as I sat, and by the time I reoriented myself, he was kneeling in front of me, looking at me with concern I didn’t think he ever could hold for me. “Are you okay?” he asked. Was I hallucinating? “Yeah, I’m fine,” I whispered, even though it was a lie.

Sebastian shook his head. “Don’t,” he said, but it wasn’t with malice. “I know you well enough to see when you’re not okay. Don’t try to deny it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I don’t feel well.” “You don’t have to be sorry. I just ask that you let me help.”

“Okay, let me get you some food.” “It should probably be a salad,” I muttered. “Absolutely not. You’re swaying on your feet. You need something filling. How about the tacos?”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” I watched him go, shocked at how focused he seemed. People tried to talk to him, but he never let them pull him into a conversation. His main focus was getting food and making his way back to me. He even brought a bottle of water.

“I’m not cheating on my husband,” I told him, indignation in my tone. “I bet he is on you.” My stomach lurched. Of course I knew that, but it wasn’t even like we slept in the same room. We weren’t really married. I was just prohibited from dating.

But as I opened my mouth to say something else, Sebastian rounded the corner, looking left and right. When he saw me, his posture stiffened. He looked at the man I was with and then me. He glared at us both, but it was mainly at me.

“I just went to the bathroom.” “Oh, yes, because it definitely looks like you’re using the bathroom.” “Hey,” the stranger said, “don’t talk to her like that.” I’m sure it was supposed to be helpful, but it made everything worse.

“What were you thinking?” “What?” I said, insulted. “For going to the bathroom?” “For bringing him here.” “Him? Who are you talking about?” “The guy you’re seeing.” I reared back. Sweat collected on my brow. “The guy I’m seeing?” I repeated. “What guy am I seeing?”

“I’m not going to play dumb. I know you’re seeing someone.” “What?” I asked again. “I haven’t been seeing anyone. I can’t.” “I already know, Lily. You confirmed it the other night.” “What the hell are you talking about?”

What—do you think I would bring someone I’m seeing, which is against my contract by the way, to a party where we’re obviously being watched? Do you think I’m that dumb?” “The contract doesn’t forbid you from doing anything, and it’s almost over anyway. Why not get some other guy who isn’t tied down to work?” “It is forbidden in my contract.

you’re the one who can do whatever the fuck you want.” “And I’m not the one talking to another man at my company party.” He hissed the last words.

This wasn’t anxiety. I was about to throw up. For real this time. I was at least able to turn to the grass before I emptied the contents of my stomach. In the back of my mind, I was kicking myself for letting Sebastian see this. He probably thought I was disgusting for losing it like this in public.

“Lily?” Sebastian said, sounding genuinely worried.

“Okay, we’re going home.” “No,” I said as firmly as I could, “you’re supposed to be here.” For a moment he looked conflicted. But then he shook his head. “Screw this. We both don’t want to be here, and I can just . . . post on social media that I’m taking care of you. People will eat that shit up.”

A cool hand pressed against my head, and I almost jerked away. “You’re burning up. How long have you been feeling bad?” Sebastian asked.

“What did you eat before the event?” “Nothing.” Sebastian stared at me. “You didn’t eat? At all?”

“I fucking hate dying my hair.” “Then why do you do it?” “Because my mom says I’m ugly if I’m not—”

when I was done, he had grabbed a cool washcloth and pressed it against my forehead. I leaned into it, feeling too sick to turn away.

I expected Sebastian to leave after a while. There wasn’t much he could do for me, and I knew it had to be gross to be around vomit. But he stayed. He sat on the bathroom floor and held my hair back while I threw up. He got me water when I felt dehydrated, and he never once commented on how bad I must have looked.

I would have been happy to sleep on the floor of the bathroom, but when Sebastian saw me dozing off, I swore he said, “Okay, up you go.” And then I was off the floor. I didn’t remember much after that, just the sounds of a soft voice and the comfort of my bed.

I got up slowly, realizing I was in a shirt that I didn’t recognize, and that I was in my room and not on the bathroom floor.

I washed my face, taking care of it the best I could. I knew I’d have to put makeup on before Sebastian got home, but my skin begged for the cool air without anything on it. I stared at my freckles for a long time, wishing I could see them more.

Like a magnet, his eyes turned to me, and he immediately did a double take. I was without makeup, without my nicer clothes, and probably looked worse than he’d ever seen me, including last night with my face in the toilet bowl.

“You have freckles.” He said it like he was dreaming, like he was entranced by them.

“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice both hard and vulnerable. “Someone came in for their laptop while I was there. They hinted that it was a little weird I was there when you were sick the night before. So, I came home.” “To make it look better?” “Maybe, but I was worried. Hell, I am worried. Plus, they said ginger ale helps with upset stomachs, so I brought you some.”

“I need to go change and put makeup on. You can’t see me like this, I⁠—” “Hang on, what?” he asked incredulously. “Why do you need to do any of that? You were just sick.” “No, I have to.”

“No!” I snapped. “No man wants to see his wife have freckles and messy hair and be in ten-year-old shorts!” Sebastian stared at me for a long time. Then, he said one of the most shocking things I’d ever heard. “I do.”

He did. Really? Then I remembered my mother’s words, and I shook my head. “You don’t have to lie.”

“You’re always put together, and it makes me wonder if you’re human, Lily. Now I look at you and . . . you look real.” “...

“I want to sit back down,” I admitted, “but I’m scared that you’re going to tell Martin or my mother how I look, and I can’t have that.” “Why would I tell them any of this?

“And you throwing up all night is not an excuse either? I made up a lie and said I’d be here for show, but I am worried about you. I’m much happier being here to be sure you’re taken care of. I should be at work, and you could easily tell on me too. But I’m asking you not to. You don’t have to be put together right now, Lily. You can just be here.”

Sebastian blinked. “You watch Game of Thrones?” I gulped. “Is that so impossible to believe?” “Honestly? Yes.” I sighed. “I’m aware it’s a trivial form of media and that I should probably be focusing on my image, but I’m sick and I really want to watch a complete asshat die and laugh at him while he does it.”

“Ugh, my filter is gone. Please forget I said any of this.” “I don’t think I can,” he said.

“Can I watch it with you?” “What? You want to watch Game of Thrones with me?” “I’ve only read the books, but I wouldn’t mind watching some of the show.” “You’ve read the books?” “Yes, I have. They didn’t quite live up to this other dark fantasy I read, but they were pretty good.”

“So, you like dark fantasy?” “Yes,” he said. “The other one is a newer series, but it’s incredible.” “Which one?” I asked suspiciously. “Have you ever heard of The Fair Originals?”

He’d read my books? He liked them? Oh God, I’d put him in that series. He was my main character’s asshole betrothed. I’d killed him off three years ago.

“Who’s your favorite character?” I asked. “Jamisson,” he said. “He’s the central love interest. Kind of. He’s more someone the fandom thinks she should end up with.”

“I see some of myself in him,” Sebastian said. “I know it’s weird, but he’s a character I really relate to.” Oh my God. He related to the character I’d made as a comfort? Jamisson was probably the only person I didn’t base off of anyone. He was a reminder that someone could be kind and that there was hope after this.

“I . . . related to them. Particularly Rohanda.” “Really? The woman who was forced to be a beast and then break the curse?” he asked, then added, “Actually I see it now. The whole being forced to wear makeup thing. Is that how you relate?” I was being read like a book.

“Yeah, it’s not something I advertise. I can’t exactly put on my Instagram that I’ve read the books a million times.” Or wrote them. “I have too,” Sebastian said, and he looked genuinely happy to talk to me. He looked younger, a childlike excitement lighting up his face in a way that I had never seen before.

Have you heard there is a TV show coming out? Are you going to watch it?” “Yeah, probably.” “This is great. We actually have something to talk about.” “Yeah, we do,” I said.

“We obviously don’t know each other very well,” he said. “Yeah, I guess not. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a closet nerd.” “You either,” Sebastian said. “I really thought you would make fun of me if you ever found out.” “Me? I’d never make fun of anyone for what they love. That’s just cruel.”

what did you say earlier, trivial?” “I didn’t say that because I think it’s trivial. I said it because it’s what has been said to me. I’d never think that about what made someone happy.”

“I was always told this was the least interesting thing about me. I grew up in the modeling world. All that mattered to people I hung around was how I looked. If I wasn’t making connections or working, then I was wasting time. And everything I was told about marriage is that your partner should only see you at your best so . . .” I shrugged. “A lot of the real me isn’t the best of me, I guess.” “I don’t want to only see the best version of you.”

I knew my views on love were wrong, and it wasn’t what I wanted for myself in the future. But in my parents’ circles, those people were all the same. Except for Sebastian, apparently.

“I want to make this last year of the contract be better than what it was before. I mean, we’re here against our will and we shouldn’t resent each other when neither of us made this choice.” “You’re right,” I said softly. “I can try to open up a bit more. At least to make this year a little easier.”

Sebastian’s mouth turned upwards, lighting up his entire face. It felt like I was seeing m...

“I needed an escape,” I said. “I did too,” he replied. “I didn’t think I would like it, but there was something so familiar about the author, like I knew them.”

“Out of curiosity,” I said, “how do you think the series is going to end?” That had always been my favorite thing to do in my free time: read fan theories. “I’m hoping Rohanda and Jamisson end up together.”