Insta-Hubby (A Billionaire Fake Relationship Romance)

by Lauren Milson

  “Yeah, I stopped by there right before I came to get the tree. You going to that party with your friend over there?”

  She motions behind me with a tilt of her chin and I turn around to see Josh staggering away from us, down the street toward the back roads. I know he only lives about an eighth of a mile away, so I’m not worried about him.

  “Nah,” I say, checking the tension of the rope against the tree. “He invited me, but I’m not really in a party mood right now.”

  “What about a little Christmas Eve gathering that’s not really a party?” she says, her eyebrows arched up slightly and her eyes hopeful. “Have you seen my siblings or parents recently?”

  I clear my throat and shove my twine and blade into my front pocket. “I haven’t. But I should really get going myself.” Her face drops and the corners of her mouth turn down. I hate to disappoint her, but I can’t go back to her house with her. In the interest of self-preservation.

  “You’re still with your dad, right? Tell him I said hello.” She pulls the door open and gets in, wiping the condensation off all the windows that she can reach. Rolling down her window, she puts her elbow out and turns on the radio. Some Christmas song comes on, and I try to block it out.

  “I’ll tell him. Get home before your truck fills up with snow. Stay warm.” She smiles and starts to roll up the window. Her pink lips look radiant in the moonlight, the glittery snow in the air making her look like she’s in a snowglobe. She doesn’t belong in that truck that I know barely starts anymore. She belongs with me in a bra and panties and some wool socks next to the fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa.

  “Can I call you tomorrow?” I ask as the window is about to close. “Just to say Merry Christmas?”

  “Of course you can.” She rolls the window up the rest of the way, struggles to shift into drive, and rolls slowly out of the parking lot. As I watch her drive away, I check her surroundings to make sure she’s okay before pulling out my phone. I want to text Derek to let him know that we’ve sold one of the trees so he doesn’t come by tomorrow morning and think he’s been ripped off by some kids with nothing better to do.

  The last trace of Jess’ taillights disappear along the main road. Again I consider driving home, but I decide against it. Let me fuck up my own life, but I don’t want to put anyone else’s in jeopardy. I dig my heels into the snow and lean forward, making my way against the wind toward home.

  The lingering effects of the beer are making my tongue and lips feel a little numb, or maybe by now that’s just the cold. It’s hard to tell anymore. I pull my wool cap down farther over my ears and grit my teeth against the wind. Thank God I decided to grow this beard.

  I come to a red light and a Don’t Walk signal at a crosswalk, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. I look down as I make sure my footing is steady, and when I get to the other side of the street, I see Jess’ truck in the middle of the road with her hazard lights blinking. Jogging over to her, I look inside the window to see her gripping the steering wheel and looking straight ahead like a deer in headlights.

  I rap gently against the passenger side window, making her jump as she looks over.

  “What the hell happened?” I say as she leans across to open the door for me.

  “I don’t know. I think there’s something wrong with the tires. I have no traction.” Her voice is shaky and uneven, and she’s frightened.

  “You have to get over to the side of the road, and I’ll get you home. I’m going to guide you. You can do this, okay?” I slam the door shut without waiting for her answer and walk quickly to the side of the road between two big piles of snow, sliding a little bit. Putting my hand up, I motion for her to back up so she’s in a better position to parallel park.

  Turning off her hazards, she cuts the wheel and backs up slowly, then expertly pulls into the spot, straightens out, and then shifts into park, collapsing with her arms and forehead on the steering wheel.

  “What’s going on?” I open the door and hop in, careful to move her box of pastries from Kaitlyn’s to the top of the dashboard. “Everything alright?”

  “It’s fine,” she says, burying her face in her arms. “I should have known I was going to end up broken down on the side of the road.”

  “Hey, hey.” I take off my gloves and stroke her hair, taking a silky length of it between my fingers and letting it slip away. “What’s the matter? We’ll get you all fixed up in no time.”

  “I should never have stopped to get this stupid tree.” She picks her face up and looks at me, the whites of her eyes red and damp, her blue irises shining all the more brightly through her tears.

  “Hey, I don’t want to hear crazy talk like that,” I gently scold her. “Nothing about a Christmas tree can ever be stupid. You take that back.”

  She laughs and wipes her nose with a tissue from her pocket. “You’re right. I’m just having a bad luck day with my truck and everything.”

  “It’s not your fault, baby.” I take her tissue and dab under her eyes. There’s no makeup on her face to ruin with her tears, and she looks as beautiful as she did the last time I saw her.

  “I guess it’s not all bad luck,” she says, looking down at her lap. “If I hadn’t stopped, I wouldn’t have run into you.”

  My heart leaps deep inside my chest, but I’m cautious. “It is nice to finally see you again, Jess. Let me get you home in one piece.”

  Jess

  We untie the tree from the back of my truck, and I know why Chris was walking home instead of driving. I spotted his car a few blocks back, and there would be no reason for him to be on foot next to my car unless he’d been drinking. I was thinking about turning around to go find him and offer him a ride when I started losing control of my back tires and froze in the middle of the road.

  But the snow is starting to let up a little, and walking home beside Chris in a blizzard would be better than driving home alone warm and dry.

  “We aren’t far now,” he says, lifting the tree out of the back of the truck and propping it up on his back. “Though I do have to say that I’m a little glad all we had left was the four-footers. A big nine-foot tree might be a little hard to walk to your house.”

  “I know you’d be able to do it,” I say, “but really, we can just leave it here. I’ll come back tomorrow to get it. Really, it’s too much trouble.”

  “Screw that,” Josh says, shaking his head emphatically. “You wanted a tree tonight, and you’re getting it tonight. Consider it your Christmas present.”

  “You’ve already done too much. Just walking me home would be a present.” I gaze up at him and notice how different he’s become. He’s grown a sexy, manly beard, which is so different from the clean-cut look he had a year ago. His hair is a little long at the top, and he appears to have started working out. He’s not the 21-year-old kid I said goodbye to a year ago. Now he’s all man.

  “I’m bringing your tree home, and that’s that.” He smiles at me and his arms flex behind his back as he steadies the tree and starts to walk forward with me toward home. Yeah, he’s changed, alright.

  I feel a little less guilty when I see how easy it is for him to carry, like it’s a bag of light groceries he’s carrying out to the car for a little old lady.

  “We aren’t far from my house, anyway,” I say.

  “You think I don’t remember where you live?” He looks down and tisks at me with his tongue. “Oh ye of little faith. I remember every turn and stop sign on the way to your house. It’s muscle memory. I could drive there with my eyes closed.”

  “Well, promise me you won’t try that.” I wrap my arms tight around me and wish I could hold Chris’ hand. It’s a good thing he’s already occupied with something else.

  It’s slightly too cold for smalltalk, and I’m thankful when we finally get to my street and turn a right to get home. All the lights are on downstairs, and I wonder if my family’s wondering why I’ve been gone so long.

  We make our way up the shoveled and cle
ared steps and I let us in. Chris leaves the tree out on the covered porch, dusting the remaining snow off of it. “Let’s let this sit out here for a while to dry off,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to track any more snow into your house than we have to.”

  “Jess? That you?” Jamie calls out as she comes padding through the hallway toward the front door. Her eyes light up when she sees who I have in tow. “Chris?”

  She runs over and gives him a big hug, winking at me as she pulls away from him.

  “You almost didn’t recognize me, I guess?” he says, pulling off his hat and shaking his hair out.

  “Um, you could say that again. I’m really loving the beard.” She takes a step back and takes him in, looking past him to me again with a look that begs to know why I ever let this piece of man candy go in the first place. “And it looks like things are really looking up now,” my sister adds. “Is that box from Kaitlyn’s?”

  “Indeed it is.” I hold up the box by the red and white bakery string as Jamie reaches up to snatch it away.

  “Jess is home!” Jamie says, making her way into the living room. “She brought the treats she promised. And one treat she didn’t say anything about at all!”

  “You have to come in,” I say, turning to Chris. “Please. Everyone would be so happy to see you.”

  “I’ll stay. Just long enough to make sure your tree gets set up. Like Josh said back there, we want our customers to be happy.” He reaches down and entwines his fingers with mine, and my breath catches as I pull away, almost embarrassed to see myself like this again.

  “Chris?” My mom comes around the corner from the living room, keeping a slight distance from us. “Please Chris, come in. It’s so lovely to see you. And you’ve grown up so much.” Apparently my mom thinks he’s super hot, too.

  “I’d be happy to stay and visit for a while,” he says, sitting down at the bench inside the front door to remove his combat boots. He still remembers that mom doesn’t like us to wear shoes in the house, and he respectfully takes off his boots, caked with snow and salt, and slides them away and out of sight under the bench. “Something in here smells wonderful.”

  “It’s really not much,” I hear my dad say as the three of us make our way through the living room and into the kitchen. Dad’s got a bit pot of boiling water with tri-color penne pasta, his oversized sautee pan sizzling with cracked garlic, diced tomatoes and white wine, and a nice loaf of warm semolina hanging out in a basket lined with a tea towel.

  “Not much?” Chris and my dad shake hands as Chris looks at the small table set up for me and my sister, my parents and brother. “It’s more than my dad and I ever do. Especially for the holidays.”

  Jamie takes her attention away from arranging the pastries on a big red platter and starts taking out a table setting. “Let me make another place for you. You’re staying for dessert too, right?”

  “I don’t know if I can resist Kaitlyn’s,” he says with a big, sexy smile on his face. He looks genuinely happy to be here, but it’s hard for me to tell how I’m feeling.

  “Pasta’s coming up.” Dad drains the pasta in a big colander in the sink and then combines it in a bowl with the hot oil, garlic and tomatoes and then grates some pecorino cheese over everything before finally adding a few anchovies and sliced black olives.

  “I’m sorry it’s not a proper holiday meal, Chris,” dad says, setting down the bowl of pasta in the middle of the table, alongside the crusty bread.

  “It is,” Chris says, “because you guys are together.” He hooks a hand behind his neck uncomfortably, aware that he’s brought up the fact that granddad isn’t here.

  “Where’s Paul?” I say, leaning to look up the stairs. “He out? I didn’t see any lights on upstairs.”

  “He should be home in a minute.” Mom starts serving everyone their pasta, and even with generous helpings for each of us, there’s still plenty left over for seconds. “Have you talked to Paul?” She looks over at Chris as she doles out a few extra olives onto his plate.

  “Not really,” he says, stabbing at his pasta. “A little bit here and there.”

  “What have you been up to?” Dad asks, buttering a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. I wish there was some Christmas music on right about now, and I’m anxious to get the tree up and decorated. I’m slipping into some kind of good mood, and I want to share it with my family.

  “Right now I’m helping out selling Christmas trees,” Chris says, taking a bite of his pasta. He’s devouring it, and it’s always made me happy to see him at the dinner table. “I guess that gig is just about over, though. I’ve also been making a few bucks shoveling snow, so I figure I should be able to do that for at least the next couple months.” He looks down at his plate and gets quiet.

  “Do you think you’ll finish your degree?” Mom asks. “Weren’t you studying something in science?”

  Chris clears his throat and takes a long sip of water. “Electrical engineering. And I actually finished my degree about a month ago. I took one semester off, but I went back last Fall and finished up my remaining credits and my thesis.”

  “That’s quite an accomplishment,” Dad chimes in, popping open a second bottle of red wine. “It must have been very rewarding to get a degree in something so challenging.”

  “I enjoyed it,” Chris replies quietly.

  “And you’re entrepreneurial,” my dad adds. It’s clear that we’ve hit a sore subject. I knew Chris had taken off a semester to care for his own dad after his mom left them, but I wasn’t aware he’d completed his degree.

  “I think that’s great,” Mom says. “And you’re still with your dad, right? He’s such a nice man.”

  “Very nice man.” My dad pours another glass of wine for Mom and himself. “Good guy. We should have you both over tomorrow for dinner.”

  “I’ll have to check with him,” Chris says, his eyes still cast downward.

  The front door opens and the screen door shuts closed behind it as a cool gust of air whips around the corner into the kitchen. My brother Paul appears in the doorway, radiating cold. His face is red and his lips look chapped, but he grins when he sees Chris sitting at the table with us.

  “Hey, man!” Chris pushes away from the table and gives my brother one of those bro-y combination handshake-back slaps. My heart feels warm when I see them getting along like they used to. “It’s fantastic to see you.”

  “You are the last person I was expecting to see here, but you’ve just made my fucking day,” my brother says, tossing his gloves and hat onto the counter. “We have so much to catch up on.”

  “First you need to sit down and eat,” Mom says, pulling an extra chair from the hallway up to the kitchen table, “and you need to mind your language.” She smiles, playfully swatting him on the hand as he pulls his chair up to the table and Jamie scoops some pasta onto his plate.

  “Everything looks great, Dad,” Paul says. “When did you decide to get a tree?”

  “No tree,” Mom says, “unless some elves broke into the house and set one up when we weren’t looking.”

  “I don’t think it’s considered breaking in if it’s elves Mom,” Jamie says. “But what are you talking about, Paul?”

  Chris and I give each other a furtive glance.

  “That was me,” I confess. “I got the tree.”

  Silence descends upon the room as my family members look at each other. I can see that they don’t know what to say, and they definitely don’t know what to think.

  “I’m sorry, guys. I can see that this isn’t as well-received as I wanted it to be. It’s small. I’ll just put it in my room,” I say, breaking the tension.

  “No,” Jamie says. “I want it where everyone can enjoy it. We should have it.” She gives me a small, sympathetic smile. If we were seated next to each other, she would put a hand on my shoulder.

  Mom lets out a big sigh. “Okay,” she says with a smile. “You girls are right. We should have a tree. Granddad would be happy to see it.�
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  Chris reaches under the table where my hands are sitting on my lap and gives them a squeeze. “I’ll go out and get it.”

  “You okay with this?” Dad says to Mom, taking a small sip of his wine.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I want everyone to be completely comfortable with this. It can be just for me. Of course I’d love it if everyone can enjoy it, but I don’t want to upset anyone. Least of all you, Mom.”

  “No,” she says, smiling. “The tree is going up in the living room. Where it should be. And I’m glad you brought it home, honey. I might not have had the courage to go out and get one myself, but I’m glad we have one.”

  “You and Chris should go downstairs to the cellar to start gathering up some ornaments for the tree,” Jamie says, nodding in my direction. “Make sure you get a nice assortment of gold and silver. We want this to be an epic tree.”

  Paul lets out a little guffaw and looks over at our sister. “You clearly haven’t seen the tree. This is not an epic tree in the making. More of a tabletop tree.” He gets up and starts over to the front door to help Chris carry the tree in.

  “It’s a very respectable tree, in my opinion,” I say, defending my little tree. “It might be small in stature, but it’s beautiful.”

  Chris and my brother come around the corner into the living area adjacent to the kitchen and prop my little tree up against a wall. Chris’ eyes shine, and from across the room I’m finally able to get a good look and take him all in without the elements in my eyes. Over the past year, he really has become a man, and as his muscles in his arms flex and bulge as he shoves his hands casually into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his feet, I feel a warm glow scatter across my face.

  “Ornaments?” he says to me, flashing his signature grin. There’s something that hasn’t changed at all.

  “Yes!” I say, wiping my mouth and starting to gather up my plate and utensils. “Yes, let’s get to work on grabbing everything we need.”