“I know I’m being ridiculous,” Trudie said as we strapped ourselves down for takeoff. “I know it’ll be fine. But it’s very new and I can’t stop thinking of all those crazy news stories I’ve seen, like the time the plane ended up in the river.”
“Trust me, I get it,” I promised her. “I’m a bit of a nervous flyer myself. But it’ll be okay. And whatever you need, if it’s a sleeping pill or water, or something else, the flight attendants can help you out. They’re used to people being nervous and they’re available for that very reason.”
Trudie smiled bravely at me, nodding, but the moment the plane began to take off her hand shot out across the aisle and reached for mine. I reached out as well, taking her hand, and let her squeeze mine tightly. Even once we had evened out, she held on, and didn’t let go for a good twenty minutes. I saw the flight attendants giving us warm smiles, and I swore that everyone in the cabin could hear my racing heart. She felt safe with me, she wanted me to comfort her. I couldn’t even begin to describe how that felt to me.
To distract her, I said, “do you want me to tell you more about Dublin?”
Trudie gave me a deadpan look. “Is this one of those times where you quiz me on the names of all your cousins?”
“No, it’s where I tell you about all the times Liam and I got into trouble growing up.”
Trudie gave a fake put-upon sigh. “Well, I suppose if you insist…”
I grinned at her. I’d been a right little bastard growing up, especially since I’d been around during the Troubles in Ireland, when there was fighting in the streets and all kinds of violence and insanity. My parents were worried sick about us half the time and annoyed and saying we would deserve it if we died the other half, because Liam and I would’ve accidentally exploded an oven in a bakery or something.
“You did not really explode an oven,” Trudie said, incredulous.
“Oh, trust me, I wish I was lying,” I assured her. “I was such a troublemaker growing up, everyone’s going to be shocked that I managed to land a woman like you.”
Trudie blushed. “Oh, stop it.”
“I’m serious. You’re going to knock ‘em dead.”
Trudie ducked her head down, her blush deepening. I couldn’t contain the smile on my face. We might only be pretending to be married, but anyone would be lucky to be married to Trudie, and I wanted her to understand that. I wanted her to know just what a fantastic person she was.
I told her a few more stories to help her relax, really getting into it myself as I recalled my vivid and crazy childhood. Eventually, though, Trudie let go and we both drifted off to sleep. It was a long flight and I wanted to avoid being jetlagged.
No such luck. By the time we landed in Dublin, all I wanted to do was crash into a bed.
“You look like shite,” Liam said, grinning as he picked us up from the airport.
“Take a look in the bloody mirror you daft bastard,” I shot back, already feeling my accent getting thicker as we hugged. I never quite lost the accent, no matter how much time I stayed in America, but the moment I was home in Ireland it became ten times stronger.
Trudie hugged Liam as well, looking dead on her feet, poor thing. Liam might’ve teased me but he was kind about the fact that we’d been traveling all day, not asking us a lot of questions and keeping up a stream of light chatter just to fill the space as he brought us back to his flat.
I didn’t even think about it as we were shown into the bedroom where we’d be staying, with just the one bed there. Normally I would’ve been freaking out, for sure, but I was too fucking tired for that right now. Instead I just stripped, got into my pajamas, and collapsed into bed with Trudie, pulling her close without even thinking about it as I fell into sleep.
19
Trudie
When I opened my eyes, the digital clock on the nightstand said it was three in the morning.
What?
For a moment, I had no idea where I was or what was going on. I was in an unfamiliar space, in the dark, lying curled up with someone. Panic nearly set in as I started to wonder—was I back with Pete? Had he found me? Or had I never really left and the last six months had just been a wonderful dream, a very realistic one?
Then I woke up a bit more, my eyes adjusting to the dark, and I realized that I was an idiot. I wasn’t back with Pete, or anything like that. I was in Liam’s guest bedroom in his apartment (or “flat” as they apparently called it here) in Ireland. The person sleeping next to me, his arm thrown over my waist in a kind of casual intimacy that made my stomach flip, wasn’t Pete, but Laird.
My stomach rumbled, apparently deciding that it didn’t care that it was three in the morning, it wanted food, and it wanted it now. I didn’t feel like I could just go wandering around Liam’s place, even if I was theoretically his sister-in-law. That wasn’t polite when I’d only really met him once before.
Laird, though, could definitely do that in his brother’s place, right?
I poked him. “Hey. Hey. Feed me. I’m starving.”
Laird groaned softly, rolling onto his back so that he could stretch. He blinked a few times, then squinted up at me. “What the bloody time is it?”
“Three. And I want food.” I pouted.
Laird glared at me. “That’s not going to work, you know. Trying to be all cute.”
“You sure about that?” I asked. “Besides, I bet you’re hungry too.”
Laird paused, as if he was running a mental check with his stomach, then groaned again. “All right, all right, let’s get something.” He rolled over and stood, grabbing my hand and yanking me out of bed with him.
“Hey, I said you go and get something,” I whispered as he dragged me through the apartment.
“You have to help,” Laird whispered back.
We raided the fridge for some meat, cheese, bread, and mustard, making quick sandwiches and eating them over the counter. Laird kind of wanted to leave out a mess to annoy Liam in the morning, but I insisted on cleaning it up first. It was fun, and soft, just leaning against each other like this, eating sandwiches we’d made like we were ten years old, sneaking around in the dark.
After we ate we crept back into bed, and Laird surprised me by pulling me right into his arms. We weren’t having sex, and we weren’t really married, so there was no reason for him to do that. No reason for him to be so close to me. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in—not even Liam’s brotherly antics would have him barging in on us. At least, I didn’t think so.
He’s just sleepy, I told myself as I curled into his arms, basking in his warmth, in the safe feeling that I got with him. Don’t overthink it, just enjoy it while it lasts.
When I woke up again, the sun was shining in through the curtains, and I was alone in bed.
I sat up, yawning, feeling a lot more refreshed and—thank God—not jet-lagged. I could hear talking from downstairs, not enough to make out words but to hear the warm, relaxed tone of voices, and I quickly sorted through my suitcase to find some clean clothes to put on.
Once I was presentable, I went downstairs to find my boss-slash-fake-husband-slash-sort-of-friends-with-benefits.
Ugh, my life had gotten complicated.
Laird was downstairs with Liam, arguing with him over the best kind of coffee. Alana was sitting at the table sipping tea—the moment she saw me she gave me a clear help me look, and I had to stifle a laugh. I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time the two brothers had gone at it over this subject.
“What the fuck is wrong with just regular old coffee? Sure, maybe yours tastes a bit better but it’s not worth all this bloody nonsense!” Liam was saying.
Laird looked like Liam was disowning his child.
“Um, boys?” I said, clearing my throat.
Both men looked at me, and I waved, feeling a bit sheepish now that I’d interrupted them.
Laird grinned and walked over, dropping a kiss onto the top of my head. I tried not to completely melt from it. “Yes?”
“You promised me we could finally pick out my dress for the wedding, remember?” I looked over at Alana, knowing she’d have my back on this one. “He kept saying that it would be fine and I shouldn’t worry about it but we go up to the wedding tomorrow.”
Alana leveled a rather terrifying glare at Laird. “Of course he’ll take you. I’ll come too.”
“I think I have uh… meeting to go to,” Liam said, obviously lying. He winked at me, though, as if to let me know that he didn’t have anything against me.
“Liam doesn’t really care about fashion,” Alana explained. “Which was why he was always wearing the most boring suits to the NBA banquets and press conferences until I came along.”
Liam gave her a warm, grateful smile, and my heart felt like someone had pricked it with a hot needle. I wanted someone to look at me like that, full of affection and love. No, all right, not just anyone—I wanted Laird to look at me like that. I knew that Laird cared about me, clearly, but I doubted he had feelings of… of romance, for me, the way that I was definitely feeling for him.
I was so screwed.
Laird, Alana and I finished getting ready and headed out for the shops. There were a lot of lovely places to try out, and Laird was determined to spoil me. Since we had to keep up the married charade in front of Alana, I couldn’t protest as easily as I could before when it was just the two of us. Laird realized that, the sly bastard, and kept grinning as he guided me into the best (and most expensive) shops.
Whoever ended up actually married to Laird someday was going to be a lucky woman. He wasn’t the type of person to show off his wealth with parties, or a huge fancy house, or extravagant spending. That I’d figured out pretty quickly. But he was a very generous person, and that extended especially to his friends and family. He really enjoyed spoiling them.
I wouldn’t have minded nearly so much if I’d felt that I’d earned it. But I was already getting paid a huge amount of money from him. I couldn’t feel good about him spending even more on me.
Alana took us to this one boutique she loved. “I just know that we’ll find something for you here.”
I just hoped that I wasn’t going to upstage the bride at this rate.
It was a spring wedding, and so even though it was still a bit chilly at times in Ireland in April, I wanted to wear a pastel, something springy and not too dark or bright in color. At last, I spotted a beautiful lilac colored gown, one that had a bit of a Grecian look to it, with a high waist and flowing layers on the skirt. When I tried it on, it showed off my arms well, and flowed properly around my curves, and the wide ‘v’ of the straps also showed off my breasts pretty well, if I did say so myself.
“What do you think?” I asked, stepping out to show it off to Alana and Laird.
Laird’s mouth fell open a little and I could see even from this distance the way that his eyes went dark. He looked in awe, but also starving—starving to put his hands and mouth on me. I suppressed a shiver. He made me feel like a teenager all over again with how much I wanted him. If we’d been alone and he’d pressed me back into the dressing room and told me he was going to fuck me, I would’ve said yes please sir.
“Oh, definitely that one,” Alana said, grinning. “You look stunning. That’s the one.”
“Yeah,” Laird agreed. His voice was hoarse, and he had to clear it after that. “That one, I agree.”
We had been at this all day, and I was relieved that we had finally settled on a dress. And I really liked this one. I knew that long after I was finished with this charade, long after Laird had moved on and I’d had to work on mending my broken heart, I’d still be wearing this dress to every fancy occasion and thinking of him with fondness. I didn’t even freak out at the price tag, although normally it would’ve given me a heart attack.
“Let’s grab some dinner,” Alana suggested once Laird had paid for the dress. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starved.”
Now that she’d said it, I realized that I was starving as well. I nodded and Laird grinned. “All right, let’s get a spot to eat then.”
Throughout the dinner Laird was just casually touching me, his arm around my shoulders or his hand landing on my knee, not in a sexual way, just like he wanted to touch me and he wasn’t stopping himself. Was he really that good of an actor? Or did he genuinely want me like that?
It’s just sexual, I warned myself. Laird was clearly sexually attracted to me. I couldn’t deny that. But that didn’t mean he was falling for me the way I’d fallen (and was still falling) for him. I felt like this well had no bottom, like Alice down the rabbit hole.
By the time we got back to Liam and Alana’s, I just wanted to be alone. I couldn’t handle Laird acting like this when I feared he didn’t feel the same as I did. Pretending to be the sweet, loving wife when it was both so close to what I wanted and so far from the truth was more draining than I had anticipated.
“I think I’m just going to go up to bed,” I said when we got back.
“You all right?” Laird asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I smiled reassuringly when he reached out and squeezed my hand. “Just tired after walking around all day and trying on all those dresses.”
“Okay, love.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I’m going to have a drink with Liam but I’ll be up later. You just rest.”
I almost wanted to cry, strangely enough. He was being so kind to me, so thoughtful, because that was the kind of person Laird was. I felt like it was wrong of me to receive that affection, when I wanted more of it—when I wanted it to be romantic, for real.
Perhaps it was best that I was going to bed. Hopefully I would feel less oddly melancholy when I woke up, and I could continue this charade without wanting to throw up.
20
Laird
Liam and I had a relaxed drink while Alana went to answer some emails and take care of work-related things. Proper Irish whisky, with that sweet burn down my throat. There was nothing like it.
“She’s good for you,” Liam told me once we finished. “I mean that, Laird. I’m happy for you.”
I wondered what he would think when he got the news of my ‘divorce’. I had a sneaking suspicion that my whole bloody family would blame me for the divorce and would be disappointed in me, and wouldn’t ever let me live it down.
Ah, well. It was my own fault for choosing such a lovely, wonderful woman to play at being my wife. Maybe I should’ve picked a more annoying, self-centered person, so that my family all breathed a sigh of relief when I told them about the fake divorce.
Before I could say anything—not that I was even sure what to say—my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and groaned. “Ma n’ Da,” I told Liam, the old names we used to give them when we were talking about them as a pair when we were kids.
Liam raised his now-empty glass towards me. “Cheers,” he said sarcastically, winking.
“Yeah, fuck you too.” I answered the call. “Mum, how’s it going?”
“Have you landed? Are you with Liam?”
“Yeah, Mum, it’s all good here. We’re just settling in and we’ll be up for the wedding tomorrow.”
“Oh, lovely.” My mother paused. “You know Laird that it’s really ridiculous that you haven’t spoken to us this whole time. It was just a silly little thing…”
“You lied and told everyone that I was married, Mum, that’s not a little thing. Can you imagine how it would’ve been if I’d showed up without a wife to the wedding? I’d never hear the end of it. Nobody would believe me that I wasn’t married, they trust you more than they trust me, for some bloody reason.”
“But if you would just find someone…”
“If I do or don’t find someone it’s because I’m ready, Mum, not because you forced me into it. It would serve you right if I didn’t get married ever because of that. What if I just had string after string of lovers until you died?”
I was joking, but it had a bit of bite to it. I didn’t like how my parents were pressuri
ng me and how they had meddled in my life and lied about me. Now I was doing this, partially to get everyone off my back and partially to get back at them.
“Well, that’s not what you’re doing, is it?”
“You’ll see what I’m doing tomorrow,” I replied cryptically. “But you can’t ever lie about me again, Mum. You’ve put me in a rather bad place, it’s bloody difficult. And I know Da was in on it too so you can tell him the same. It’s embarrassed me and made me look bad in front of the family if I show up and say I’m not married. Or it makes you look bad, which I don’t want either, you understand me? It’s not a little thing. And I don’t appreciate the meddling. I’ll get married when I meet the right person and I feel that it’s the right time.”
“This is ridiculous,” Mum replied. “It’s such a stupid quarrel, Laird.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I hope you change your mind.”
“Well. Whatever you might feel about us right now, we’re excited to see you tomorrow. We do love you and we just want you to be happy.”
“I know, Mum, I know. That’s what makes it extra frustrating for me. I get to decide if I’m happy with how my life is. Not you. Maybe I would be happier if I found someone, but that’s for me to decide. And I won’t be happy if I’m forced to be with someone just because you want me to.”
Liam, who was unashamedly listening in to all of this, the bastard, gave me an encouraging thumbs up. I glared at him. Liam just grinned.
“You know I’m twelve minutes older than you are,” I hissed at him, covering the phone with my hand so that Mum couldn’t hear me.
Liam just stuck his tongue out at me.
“Getting married or not getting married will be my choice,” I finished up. “And it won’t be because you or anyone else decided it was best for me. It’ll be because I met someone, and I fell in love with them.”
Forbidden First Times: A Contemporary Romance Collection Page 31
