by Holly Rayner
When her mother had suffered a stroke, Bianca had been eager to work at the Riverside Assisted Living home, which had offered a discount on a room for her mother. The situation was far from ideal—her mom’s room was pretty small—but Bianca made the best of it. She’d brought in her mom’s favorite pictures and knickknacks, pillows and blankets. Her favorite bedside lamp was on the nightstand to make it feel like a home. Though the staff did as well as they could, they were overbooked with patients to care for, but with Bianca there watching out for her mom, she received good care.
The job wasn’t the highest paying, but it was at least a way to stay afloat. Bianca realized that she’d been on a treadmill of sorts; she’d been getting through each day the best that she could, but had little time for anything besides work and taking care of her ailing mother.
Maybe that’s why my relationships have been so poor, she thought. The last good guy I was with was freaking Landon Chiddister—sixteen years ago.
The last time she’d seen Landon, he’d had a pretty wife on his arm and two elementary-school-aged children in tow. In fact, most of the peers that Bianca had gone to high school with now had spouses and children.
Bianca wondered what it would be like to dress a little girl in a pretty pink skirt and sweater for her first day of kindergarten. Or to help a little boy choose his first lunchbox. She grinned at the thought of helping him pick between a firetruck, dinosaur, or his favorite superhero.
There were so many things she longed to do with children of her own: early morning snuggle sessions in bed, stirring blueberries into pancake batter on Saturday mornings, walking hand in hand to school…
She turned the corner onto her own block. Many of the houses had family-sized, shiny new cars in the driveway, and kid-friendly holiday decorations in the yard.
What would Christmas be like if I had children? she wondered. She could imagine the joy of seeing her son or daughter light up at the sight of a tree in the living room, surrounded by wrapped presents just waiting to be torn open.
As it was, she hadn’t gotten a real tree this year. She couldn’t afford it. Instead, she’d pulled out the tabletop aluminum one she’d had as a kid. The shiny, crinkly branches now sported a variety of handmade ornaments, some passed down for generations. All the other ornaments were on her mom’s small tree at the nursing home.
One day… she thought dreamily. One day, maybe my husband and I will go out on the day after Thanksgiving and choose a tree. Our children will help us pick the perfect one. He’ll put it up so it’s perfectly straight, while I make hot chocolate for the whole gang.
She smiled at the fantasy. It took her a moment to realize that as the dream-like images flashed through her mind, she’d pictured Jackson playing the role of her husband.
She took a deep breath of the cool night air to clear her head, then turned up her driveway.
“It’s late, Peaches,” she murmured. “I’m tired and not thinking straight. I keep imagining Jackson as my husband.”
Faking a marriage is a far stretch from the real thing, she thought. Her mind turned nervously to the Saturday night date that lay ahead.
What have I gotten into? she thought. I’m no actress. How in the world am I supposed to play the role of Jackson’s wife-to-be? I just met the guy!
Confusion threatened to overwhelm her. “I’d better get to bed,” she said under her breath.
Peaches wagged her tail, trotted up the front steps, and then pressed her nose into the front door. It was clear that she was ready for a snooze session as well.
Chapter 7
Bianca
Butterflies stirred in Bianca’s stomach as she surveyed the Heritage Manor dining area. Even though Jackson was at her side, she felt alone and ill-equipped to face the social situation before her. Not only were the guests who mingled in little knots around the rooms far better dressed than she was, but they also oozed upper-class status. Bianca felt intimidated, like a gazelle standing on the edge of a field of lions.
“Ready to meet my mom?” Jackson asked.
Bianca cringed. She longed to say no, turn around, and book it out of the stuffy room. But a total of fifteen thousand dollars was on the line, and besides that, she’d given Jackson her word that she’d help him.
The thought of the dishonest statements she’d have to make over the course of the evening made her feel nauseated, as if she was on a rocking boat, turning green and queasy. In fact, the polished oak floor beneath her was solid, not rocking at all—unless she counted the subtle sway from the high four-inch stilettos she’d borrowed from Sandy for the occasion. They were a half size too big, and no matter how still she tried to stand, she felt as though she couldn’t quite steady herself.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said quietly. She realized that it might be the last honest statement she’d make all evening.
Jackson chuckled. “You look like you’re on a pirate ship, about to walk the plank.”
Bianca smiled nervously and looked up at him. “Oh, you know what that looks like?”
“I can imagine,” he said with another laugh. “Come on, this isn’t going to be so bad.” He leaned in and brushed the softest of kisses on her cheek. His lips barely touched her skin—the sensation was like the faintest tickle of a feather—but it sent pleasure rippling through Bianca, and she felt her cheeks flush immediately.
Maybe this really won’t be so bad, she thought. How could she complain about being kissed by a gorgeous man? Yes, it was all a show, but still. The feel of his lips against her flesh was real.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said.
“Always,” he told her confidently, as he offered up his elbow.
“I doubt you’re always right,” Bianca protested as she looped her arm through his. She found that it was helpful to lean into him for balance as they crossed the room.
“Oh really?” Jackson teased. “How can you be so sure?”
“No one is right one-hundred percent of the time.”
“Except for me,” Jackson joked. He lifted a hand to greet two couples who stood chatting together by one of the decadently set tables. “Bob! Stacy! Hello,” he said warmly. Then he lowered his voice and whispered to Bianca, “Just follow my lead. This will be our warm-up for the main performance. We’ll have a chance to iron out the details of our story.”
Performance? Details of our story? Bianca didn’t like the sound of either of those things. The thought of keeping track of a pile of confusing details made her feel even more queasy.
Jackson approached the couples, exchanged greetings that included enthusiastic, backslapping hugs with the men, and then introduced Bianca as his fiancée.
Bianca was glad that he’d brought along a fake engagement ring, which she wore on her finger. It was the only piece of jewelry she had on besides stud earrings, and she hoped that it dressed up her plain black cocktail dress, which she’d picked up at a discount store just the day before.
When Jackson swiped two glasses of wine from a passing cocktail waitress, she was eager to take the first few sips.
Her jangling nerves finally began to quiet down after Jackson had answered a few questions about their relationship, and the conversation turned to the economy.
While the men and one of the wives talked about stocks, the second woman turned to Bianca.
“Congratulations,” she said warmly. “All of the ladies who know Jackson have been wondering when he’d finally settle down. He’s a great guy… always there for his friends and so good with that dog of his.” She seemed to be genuine, and Bianca felt herself smile proudly, almost as if she really was about to marry the tall, handsome man beside her.
“He’s pretty special, isn’t he?” she said. In that instant, she knew how she would survive the evening: she would fully immerse herself into the belief that Jackson was hers. She’d become Jackson’s fiancée, just for a few hours.
For one night only, she’d allow herself to live inside that world of make-believe.
When Jackson pulled away from the group, she followed his lead effortlessly. It felt natural to tuck her arm into his. She smiled as he led her toward a table that was occupied by a couple in their fifties who picked idly at plates of appetizers before them, two young women who were busy taking selfies, and an elderly woman whose sharp gaze was focused squarely on Bianca and Jackson.
That’s her, Bianca realized. Jackson’s mother.
Though the white-haired woman was sitting, Bianca could tell she wasn’t tall like Jackson. She looked to be about average height, albeit stooped with age. A thick strand of pearls was draped around her neck, and her emerald-green, lace and silk dress complemented her pale complexion. Bianca sensed she’d been a beauty in her younger years.
The woman didn’t stand as they approached, but instead reached for her glass of amber-colored liquid in a tumbler glass and took a sip.
“Mom, meet my fiancée, Bianca,” Jackson said. “Bianca, this is my mom, Mary.” He pulled out a chair for Bianca.
Before sitting, Bianca reached out to the woman and offered a hand. Mary’s fingers were as cold as ice when they gripped Bianca’s.
“Nice to meet you,” Mary said.
Jackson grinned as he settled into his own seat. “Quite the turnout, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed,” Mary’s eyes traveled over Bianca while she spoke. “And at a thousand dollars a plate, the Historical Society is going to make a pretty penny. I’d say the evening is a success.” She set down her glass. “And not only because of the funds raised, but also because I’m finally getting a chance to meet the woman my son is going to settle down with.”
Bianca fidgeted slightly under Mary’s watchful gaze, straightening the straps of her dress and then smoothing her hair down. She reached for her wine glass in an attempt to busy her hands, and ended up taking a gulp instead of a sip.
Jackson clearly sensed her nervousness, because he interjected smoothly. “Yes, we’re happy to be here. Thank you for the invitation, Mom.”
“Historical societies do good work,” Mary said matter-of-factly. “Without them, the past can slip through our fingers. Most people are so busy thinking about the future that they simply overlook years gone by. People and places become buried by the sands of time. Forgotten…” She lifted her glass but didn’t take a sip. Instead she held it before her as she said, “Are your ancestors from the area, Bianca?”
Bianca licked her lips. She didn’t often talk about her family tree. “My mother grew up in Georgia,” she said, “and came out here to Tennessee to work in the factory north of the city that makes sails for boats.”
“I know the one,” Mary said with a nod. “In fact, Jackson’s father used to know the owner.”
Bianca felt a twinge of inferiority stab her insides. Of course, Jackson’s family was probably connected to all of the well-to-do in the state. It was no wonder that he and his mother had more in common with the factory owners than the actual workers.
She forced herself to go on. “My dad also worked at the factory. He was in the shipping department.” She felt as though she was rambling, so she tried to wrap up. “He and my mom got together but split when I was very young. My mother raised me. Both my grandparents on her side of the family lived in Georgia, but they passed away a few years back. It’s really just me and my mom now.”
“I see,” Mary said. She eyed Jackson and fired her next question his way. “And how did you two meet?”
“It was this spring,” Jackson said. Bianca felt his gaze on her, so she turned to meet his eye. His blue eyes danced playfully as he said, “Do you want to tell the story, honey?”
He seemed to be enjoying himself, and his energy was contagious. Or maybe it’s the wine, Bianca thought.
Whatever it was, she felt herself relax a touch as she repeated the story Jackson had told the couples they’d chatted with on their way over.
“It was at a local park,” Bianca said, “back in April. One of those nice spring days.” She used the exact phrases that Jackson had used just minutes before. Then, on a whim, she decided to add a detail of her own. “A dog park, actually, near my neighborhood. Dove Meadows. It’s one of my favorites, because it has everything you could want—rolling grass hills, a separate area for dogs that are still being trained, and even a pond.”
“That’s right,” Jackson said. “Our dogs started playing together… chasing after the same—”
“Frisbee,” Bianca said. She was starting to enjoy weaving the scene together in her mind, and she couldn’t help but jump in. “It was my dog’s toy, but Rufus really had his eye on it.”
Jackson picked up on the tale, signaling to a passing waitress as he spoke. “I’m pretty sure that what Rufus really wanted was a new friend,” he said. “The poor guy gets lonely.”
He turned to the server. “Another glass of white,” he said.
It took Bianca a moment to realize that he was ordering for her.
I could get used to this, she thought, as the waiter placed a basket of bread and butter down at the center of the table, then rushed off to fetch her drink.
Jackson inched closer to her and let his arm rest on the back of her chair. “We started talking, and we hit it off. After a few weeks, we realized we couldn’t live without each other. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She brings me so much joy.”
He turned to look at her, and Bianca felt like she might melt under the heat of his gaze. She heard Mary begin to make a request from another server. Jackson gave Bianca a quick wink.
Bianca glanced over at Mary, to see if the older woman had caught Jackson’s gesture. It was clear that Mary was entirely caught up in her conversation with the server, and Bianca felt some tension in her shoulders dissipate.
“You’re doing great,” Jackson mouthed, just before Mary returned her focus to the table.
“Sounds like you two have a lot in common,” she said with a nod of approval. “That’s good. Over the years I’ve noticed that the couples who make it are the ones who are friends as well as lovers. That’s important. When the razzle-dazzle of one steamy night fades, what do you have left? You’re just two people, trying to make it as a team. You must have a foundation to stand on.”
Bianca’s cheeks flushed at the thought of the “steamy night” that Mary mentioned. She found that she agreed with Mary’s sentiment. Of course, a foundation of friendship had to be important for a relationship. But Bianca had to admit to herself that if the opportunity for a steamy encounter with Jackson Wylde came up, she might take it.
“That’s what I think, too,” Jackson said. “And that’s what’s so special about Bianca. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m with someone who really has my back. Someone who will stand by me no matter what.” He chuckled in that relaxed way of his. “Actually, I don’t think she even knew who I was when we met at the dog park. Did you, honey?”
Bianca shook her head and laughed, too. She looked at Jackson as she said, “Not a clue. To be honest, when you mentioned that you took your dog to work with you, I pictured you in a little cubicle.”
“Ha!” Mary said. “Far from it. Jackson, are you still working from the headquarters your father set up?”
Jackson nodded. “That’s right. The downtown building.”
Mary turned to Bianca. “I’m sure you’ve seen the place. Jackson’s father had an ego the same size as the high-rise he bought for his company. Of course, he just had to have one of the tallest buildings in the city, and of course, he wanted the top office in the place.”
“I can’t complain about the view,” Jackson said.
The waiter arrived with Bianca’s wine. She was glad for the brief distraction as she composed her own commentary on Jackson’s office, which of course, she’d never seen. She decided to keep her statement vague, so she said, “I love how Rufus acts as though he owns the place.”
Jackson laughed at this. “He does sometimes ride the elevator on his own. Everyone knows to shuttle him
up to the twenty-sixth floor if they find him wandering.”
Bianca giggled at this imagery as she reached for her glass of wine.
Another couple joined the table and took seats in the empty chairs to the left of Mary. She engaged in a short conversation with them.
Bianca was relieved for the brief reprieve from the performance. She felt that she was holding up her end of the bargain, and doing a good job of it, too. Really letting herself believe she was Jackson’s fiancée helped. However, she couldn’t help but note that the bread that sat in the middle of the table looked completely unappetizing. Her stomach, she noticed, was tied up in knots.
She knew it was due to the undercurrent of tension that she felt, due to the lies that kept tumbling from her lips; even though she was trying not to think about the truth of what she and Jackson were doing, her subconscious couldn’t be fooled. The guilt sat heavy in her stomach, making it impossible to feel hunger. At least all of this will be over in a few hours, she thought.
“So, when is the big day?” Mary asked, once she was able to return her focus to Bianca and Jackson.
“Soon,” Jackson said casually. “Oh look, the food is coming out. Mom, did you order the fish or the steak?”
Bianca reached for the cloth napkin that was folded near the edge of her plate. She busied herself by unfolding it, and then folding it again. How is Jackson going to keep up this ruse? she wondered. Now his mom is going to expect a wedding!
Well, he’s going to have to deal with the consequences on his own, she thought. I agreed to help him out for one night only.
Hopefully, he doesn’t expect me to keep this up with him. Does he?
Chapter 8
Bianca
“Come on, Peaches!” Bianca called out in the direction of her bedroom. She was fairly certain that Peaches was lying somewhere amid the pile of sheets and blankets that lay in a jumble on her bed. “I can’t be late for work again. We gotta go now if you want to get some playtime in!”
