Not So Fake (The Real Thing Book 1)

by Emma Lyon

  May

  It was hard as hell leaving Lane sleeping in our bed, but I wanted to get in a run before the ceremony later that morning. Afterward, we were having lunch with my parents and Lane’s, and that could either go well or spectacularly badly, and the only way I was going to stop thinking about it was to exhaust myself with a run.

  Jogging the few blocks to Montrose Park, I found one of the running paths that cut through the park and followed it under the shade of overhanging branches thick with green leaves, past playgrounds that would start to fill up in a couple of hours. This early there were only a few other fellow joggers out.

  I couldn’t believe I’d made it through the last school year. I was graduating from freaking law school. There were some nights Lane and I were both so exhausted from school that we’d tumble into bed with barely enough energy to turn the lights out and kiss each goodnight. Under the encouragement of his advisor, he’d been working on a paper to present at a conference later in the summer, and there were certainly times I cursed the hours it took him away from me, just as I was sure he felt the same when I spent most of my non-class hours studying for the bar. But somehow we’d made it work.

  By the time I headed back home, I was sweaty but my mind was clear again. It was why I ran in the first place.

  I stopped at the mail room to pick up our mail and sifted through it as I walked up the stairs to the apartment. My eyes caught on a crisp white envelope. In the lefthand corner, the return address read, Law Offices of Quinn, Reyes, and Barnes.

  My stomach flipped crazily. I slowed the last few steps to the apartment, opening the door with my eyes still glued to the envelope. When I got to the kitchen, I smelled coffee and saw that Lane was up.

  He kissed me hello, and couldn’t help but notice my attention was taken up elsewhere. “What is that?”

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and collapsed on the stool in front of the peninsula bar. I turned the envelope over in my hand, not able to bring myself to find out what was inside, and tossed the rest of the mail in the sorting bin. “It’s from the place where I interned last summer.”

  Lane waited patiently a minute, then said, “Uh, are you going to open it?”

  I closed my eyes and ripped the envelope open, pulling the letter inside out by feel and opening it. I opened my eyes, and got just as far as We are pleased to extend you an offer of employment before my vision went fuzzy and I dropped the letter on the counter.

  A concerned look on his face, Lane picked it up and scanned it. His brows furrowed. “This is good, isn’t it? I mean, a job offer is a good thing?”

  “Yes,” I said, my breath rushing out. “It’s a good thing. I mean, I’m sure it’s contingent on me passing the bar, and it’s not unusual to offered employment from the place you interned at, but I told you what a hardass Quinn was. I thought he hated me.”

  Lane continued reading the letter. “It says here that you’ll be given extra time to study for the bar and whatever resources you need.” His eyes widened. “Uh, did you see their salary offer?”

  “I didn’t get that far.” He told me, and my jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope.” He handed the letter back to me, and I looked down at the number swimming in front of my face.

  “Oh my God.”

  It was unreal. My heart was beating crazily, and not from my run. I’d be able to pay back my parents sooner than I thought. I’d be making actual money, doing what I’d always wanted to do.

  “We can get a bigger place,” I said.

  Lane looked around us. “I don’t know. I’ve gotten attached to our hovel.”

  I gestured wildly in the direction of our makeshift offices—mine in the overstuffed chair with my laptop on a TV tray next to it, and his made of planks of wood under the window. “Two bedrooms, Lane. Think about having an actual office space. A desk. An extra bed if anyone wanted to visit.”

  “Hm.” He grinned and put his chin on his hands with his elbows on the bar. “You might be talking me into it.”

  “We could get a place between the university and the law office. They’re not that far from one another, actually.” I looked across at him, and in the moment I knew exactly what I was going to say. I felt like I’d waited my whole life to say it to him. “You could marry me.”

  Lane froze, his eyes wide with shock. I stared into the silver depths of them and said, “Marry me. I mean, I know this isn’t the most romantic proposal ever. And I don’t even have a ring. But—”

  “Yes,” Lane interrupted. He was smiling at me. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

  I leaned across the counter separating us and kissed him. It had always been real between us, I knew that, but I wanted nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops to make sure that everyone else knew it too.

  I thought about waking up every morning next to him. About kissing him goodnight. About sharing my life with him, the good and the bad, and all the craziness in between.

  Was I ready for this?

  Yeah, I knew with certainty. We were.

  A Note from Emma

  Thank you for reading! I loved writing Zach and Lane’s story, and I hope you enjoyed it too. I’d love it if you let me know by leaving a review.

  If you’d like to join my mailing list to find out when I release a new book or other news, you can sign up at my website here.

  Many thanks to Alaina Kral for reading and editing with her usual spot-on eye for story, and to Black Jazz Design for the cover.

  If you’re curious about Ethan, then you’re in luck—keep reading for a synopsis of the next book in the Real Thing series: Not So Innocent.

  Thank you and enjoy!

  You shouldn’t want what you can’t have.

  Holden: That’s the first thing I think when I see Ethan Garrett—young, beautiful Ethan Garrett, son of Senator Garrett, the man I’ve been hired to protect. Did I mention young? Not that Ethan sees himself that way. Nearly twenty-three and fresh out of college, he thinks he knows what men like me are like. But the thoughts I have about him aren’t anywhere near innocent or nice.

  Indulging a secret romance while trying to do my job can’t possibly end well, but Ethan’s made no secret that he’s put his sights on me. And I’m fast discovering that what Ethan wants, he finds a way to get.

  Ethan: I don’t want nice, and I’m sure as hell not innocent. I don’t care that Holden thinks he’s too old for me—he’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like a failure for not knowing what I want to do with my life. He might be leaving as soon as his job is done, but until then I’m not letting his hangups stand in our way. I’ll take whatever I can get from him, even if he breaks my heart.

  Not So Innocent (The Real Thing Book 2)

  About the Author

  Emma Lyon writes M/M contemporary romance about smart, sexy men who fall in love with other smart, sexy men. She lives in Maryland in a house on a wooded hill, with two indoor cats and various outdoor wildlife she watches from her office window.

  You can find her at her website or at Facebook and Twitter.