Pretend It's Love

by Stefanie London

  Libby’s heart beat like a drum, pounding her ribcage and flooding her body with all the love she’d locked up safe and tight. All the love she’d held inside for fear of giving it to someone and having him throw it away.

  “I would be honored,” she said, squeezing her friend. “I’m going to be the best godmother there ever was.”

  “I have no doubt. And I mean what I said, you are part of my family.” Nina patted her belly and smiled. “You’re part of my baby’s family. I need someone he or she can look up to, because Pete and I sure as hell aren’t great role models.”

  Libby pulled a face. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

  “So are you one day. A great wife, a great mother, a great grandmother. If you pull your head out of your ass, that is.” Nina patted her shoulder.

  For the first time the idea of being any or all of those things didn’t fill her with fear and scepticism. She had an opportunity to fill someone else’s life with love and happiness, to do the opposite of what her parents had done.

  And Paul…the time apart hadn’t diminished her feelings for him. Not by a long shot.

  “Tonight you need to concentrate on being a great businesswoman.” Nina jumped up and brushed her hands down her thighs. “But call that stupid boy tomorrow, and show him what he’s missing.”

  She had no idea if he missed her, if he regretted what he’d said…if the words were even true. And she wanted to be in Nina’s shoes, to have a family of her own. To grow old with someone, to be a good influence and share her success with someone. But there wasn’t anyone else she could imagine spending her life with other than Paul.

  Outside First, the late afternoon sun waned. Summer had given way to autumn, and with it came intermittent drizzle—a much needed reprieve from the heat—and shorter days. Gray clouds hovered overhead, a warning to stay indoors.

  Paul stalked toward his car, a dark cloud of his own crushing down on him. Des’s comment had struck him deep in the chest, in that soft place only a loved one could find. His brother certainly counted as a loved one, but right now he wanted to punch him in the face.

  Paul was not in the same category as Kirk Harris.

  He got into his car and slammed the door shut behind him. Poor Libby. She must be devastated that her father wasn’t coming along tonight.

  Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he finally let memories of Libby wash over him. He pictured her face so clearly she could have been standing in front of him—her sharp hazel eyes, that sweet smile, and her mane of coin-colored hair.

  Des was right about one thing: Paul had been happy when she was in his life.

  Since the wedding there’d been a great big hole in his life, a joy-sucking void that made him miserable. He’d thrown himself into planning for the mixology school, but even that hadn’t satisfied him the way it should. Family dinners had been missed, phone calls ignored. He only left the house to work at First and even then he had to drag himself there.

  The solution was painfully clear. He wanted Libby in his life. He missed her with a soul-aching sadness so deep and dark it stole his slumber night after night. He missed her smile, her laugh, the way she lifted him up. Made him better.

  And he couldn’t ignore it, the past month had taught him that much.

  He loved her. He never wanted to, never hoped to…but he did.

  If anyone was throwing anything down the drain it wasn’t Libby and her career, it was him. Letting fear and stupidity rule his actions. No more. She was worth the risk. Undoubtedly.

  All he had to do now was hope that she’d forgive him.

  As he started up his car and pulled out into the busy South Melbourne traffic, a plan began coming together in his mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Libby’s hand trembled as she put her hand on the door to First. In less than an hour the room would be filled with local media, bloggers, business owners, and friends all in attendance to celebrate the official launch of her business.

  Inside the restaurant was a flurry of activity. Pink and green paper lanterns had been strung from the ceiling along with strands of fairy lights, giving the room the garden party vibe she’d wanted. Fresh flowers dotted the high standing tables that had replaced the regular furniture and the waiters wore green and pink checkered shirts.

  Smoothing her hands down the front of her fuchsia dress, she sucked in a breath. Everything was in its place, the room was exactly as she wanted it…but something was missing.

  A tiny part of her had hoped that Paul would be here. Even if there was no hope of them being together, knowing she had his support would have meant something. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  Des stood behind the bar in his usual black T-shirt, directing the staff on how to set up the visual merchandising. Noah carried boxes back and forth, unpacking the last of the promotional goodies.

  “Are you excited?” Nina asked, walking up to her after dispensing the artwork to one of Des’s staff members.

  “I’m excited to see you wearing that outfit.” Libby laughed, pushing away the hollow feeling in her chest. Tonight was a special night, and she wouldn’t let stupid things like emotions ruin it for her.

  “Anything for you.” Nina shook her head. “I don’t know how you wear pink. I feel like a fucking cupcake.”

  “And you look just as delicious,” Libby teased.

  Her eyes continued to scan the room. Apparently her heart was not yet ready to give up on the idea that he might show.

  “He’s not here.” Des put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He left about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Oh.” A lump lodged in Libby’s throat. At least she had her answer. Now she could move on and throw all her energy back into her business. “His loss, I guess.”

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  Guests filtered into the room. Libby recognized a columnist from Gastronomy magazine as well as a popular lifestyle and fashion blogger. Her heart jackhammered in her chest.

  She kept herself busy as she fussed over the displays. The cocktails that had been designed for the event—Paul’s handiwork, she suspected, though Des would not confirm—sat in pretty rows along the bar.

  “These look fantastic,” she said, peering at a set of martini glasses that had been dusted with super-fine sugar crystals and decorated with sprigs of fresh lavender.

  “The lavender martini should be a hit. We’ve put it on the specials board this week, and it’s doing really well.” He grinned, his newly tanned skin making his smile appear even brighter. “We’re going to do good business together.”

  “Thank you for everything.” She looked up at him. “After what I did you should have turned me out.”

  “You wouldn’t have needed to go to such lengths if I’d seen the potential from the start. I appreciate you both coming clean, though.” His dark eyes reminded her so much of Paul that she had to turn away.

  “You deserved that much at least.”

  “And you deserve everything, too, Libby. Don’t ever forget that.” He turned her around to face the room.

  The crowd had swelled, and the waiters had begun distributing trays of food matched to the first cocktail on circulation. All cocktails had been served in smaller glasses to allow people to taste multiple drinks. Miniature pink Bellinis made their way around, and people drank, smiling and talking among themselves.

  “You’d better mingle,” Des said. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of questions for you.”

  “You’re right.” Libby grabbed a mini Bellini for herself and made her way to a group of very fashionable-looking young women whom she suspected were from a bridal magazine she’d contacted.

  “Go get ’em!” Des called out after her.

  By the time Paul had made it to his destination, Libby’s party had already started. He’d be late.

  Better late than never, right?

  He leaned against the car, staring up at the two-story town house in South Yarra that Libby had grown up in. Th
e white building contrasted sharply to the ornate black fretwork lining the balcony and the black trim on the huge bay windows on each floor.

  The lawn looked as though it had never seen a harsh summer, the plants gleaming vibrant green in the faded early evening light. It was perfect. Pristine. Expensive. Not a blade of grass out of place.

  Kirk Harris was home. Paul had gotten ahold of his secretary to confirm it, though getting the address wasn’t as easy. He’d charmed the woman into believing he had a delivery for the current Mrs. Harris that would put Mr. Harris in a vulnerable position should it not be delivered.

  Feigning an incorrect delivery address, Paul had wheedled his way into the street name, and he already knew what car the man drove. Bentleys were more common in South Yarra than in other suburbs, but not that common.

  Now all he had to do was work up the courage to knock on the door.

  He wasn’t thrilled about facing Libby’s father again…not after their last encounter. But it had to be done if he was going to marry her. The thought washed him with a deep calm.

  Libby would want her father there tonight. Why else would she have called him repeatedly to invite him? Deep down he knew there was a chance the plan could backfire horribly. But the risk would be worth it.

  He walked up the path and knocked on the door before his resolve escaped him. A moment later Kirk answered the door himself.

  “Yes?” he asked, taking a moment to register Paul’s identity. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I was hoping I could have a minute of your time, Dr. Harris.”

  The older man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “So I’m Dr. Harris now. There’s a change.”

  “I know we didn’t exactly get started in the best way—”

  “No, you threatened me and kicked me out of my own property. I’d say that’s a very poor impression to leave on the father of your girlfriend.”

  “I know. But I can’t apologize for that. You were treating Libby unfairly, and I had to stick up for her.” He hoped the gamble of his honesty would pay off.

  Kirk Harris might be a lot of things, but he didn’t appear to be stupid. Insincerity would be a red flag. Paul was better off showing his cards and hoping he respected him for that.

  “Then why are you here if not to apologize?”

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  Silence. Hazel eyes—Libby’s eyes—regarded him without giving anything away, as Kirk leaned against the doorframe. He hadn’t told Paul to get lost, so that had to count for something.

  “You’re starting with a low bargaining position,” Kirk warned.

  “It’s not a favor for me…it’s for Libby.”

  “Ah. She gets you to do her dirty work, does she? Her mother was like that.”

  Paul bit back the urge to retort, instead jamming his hands into his pockets to keep himself from punching Kirk. “She doesn’t know I’m here. But she has an important event tonight. It’s the launch of her business. She wants you to be there.”

  “I already told that PR boy of hers I’m not interested. When my daughter comes back to doing what she should be doing, then I’ll attend anything she likes.”

  “Right.” Paul nodded. “So it’s conditional then.”

  “What is?”

  “Your love.” He paused for a moment to watch Kirk’s brow crease. “That’s good to know. I bet Libby has suspected it, but hearing that confirmed will be good for her. Not now, but in the long run.”

  “Criticize me when you have children of your own. It’s not as easy as you think.”

  “I will. But I can tell you now, if I’m lucky enough to have a child with Libby there’s no way in hell I’ll ever hold him or her over a barrel to get what I want.” He forced himself to breathe, to talk slowly. Deliberately. “I disagree with my parents all the time. But I know, no matter whether or not we can settle an argument, they love me. I’ve never doubted it. Libby does.”

  Kirk had the decency to look shocked. “I’ve given her everything, how could she think I don’t love her?”

  “Because you won’t even support her on the biggest night of her life. She’s making something of herself, and you’re ignoring her calls because you’re too selfish to put her dreams before your own.”

  For a moment Paul was certain Kirk would turn him away. His lips pressed together into a flat line, his jaw locked. Tight. A vein pulsed in his forehead, breaking the frosty exterior he’d presented so far.

  “I want her to go back to finish her studies.”

  “She might, but she might not. If she doesn’t, are you prepared to cut all ties with her? Are you prepared to miss out on birthdays and Christmases and weddings because she refused to go back to school?” Paul shook his head. “You can’t keep hurting her. All she wants is for you to support her, to say you care about what she wants.”

  “What she wants is wrong.” The words sounded tough, but a crack had appeared.

  Paul looked past Kirk into the fancy house. Polish boards lined the floor, and a crystal chandelier hung in the entrance along with a gilt mirror and some expensive-looking art. All this money, this fortunate life, and Kirk still wasn’t happy with what he had.

  It was sad.

  “I’m going to ask Libby to marry me,” Paul said, speaking the words as slowly and calmly as his racing mind would allow. “Tonight.”

  His heart pounded. The decision hadn’t been made until the moment the words were out of his mouth, but nothing else in his life had ever felt so right.

  “Is this you asking my permission?”

  “I don’t need your permission and, as much as I would like your blessing, that isn’t necessary, either.” He pulled his shoulders back, preparing to walk away without achieving his goal. “But I promise you that I’ll take care of her the best I can. I’ll support her dreams, I’ll keep her safe, and I’ll make sure she feels loved every single day. I’ll give her what she’s missing.”

  Kirk sighed. “You know, I don’t doubt that at all.”

  He saw some of Libby in her father then, in the way his hazel eyes focused in while he analyzed the situation. They were both ambitious, tough. Fighters.

  “I turned up at Libby’s grandparents’ doorstep once, too.” Kirk nodded, his eyes locked onto something in the distance. “I tried to convince them to let Libby’s mother back into their home after she got pregnant. I failed.”

  “Come along tonight, tell Libby you’re happy for her. She doesn’t need much, you being there will be enough.”

  Baby steps. Kirk might not back down on trying to convince Libby to go back to school, but they didn’t have to agree on everything. Maybe if he could see all she’d achieved he would understand.

  “Fine.” Kirk grabbed his keys and phone from a table in the entrance and followed Paul down to where their cars were parked on the street.

  The launch party had turned out even better than Libby could have imagined. She’d already been interviewed by a columnist for a major newspaper—not something she was expecting—and the blogging crowd had taken a real shine to her.

  She’d posed for photos and answered questions about everything from her business model to her thoughts on cocktail and flavor trends. She’d taken selfies, swapped business cards, and had even met with one of the restaurant managers who’d turned her down initially. Turns out locally sourced, small batch product was appealing to restaurant clientele over tacky celebrity endorsement.

  Still, she couldn’t deny how much sweeter victory would taste if she had Paul by her side. Smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, she turned to make conversation with the man next to her, but the words died on her lips when his face registered.

  “Dad?”

  Her father smiled but didn’t reach out to embrace her or touch her in any way. That wasn’t his style. “Libby. Congratulations on your launch.”

  “Thank you.” She swallowed, fighting back the excitement that bubbled in her chest like fizzing champagne. “I wasn’t exp
ecting you.”

  “No, I guess you weren’t.” He cleared his throat. “I would like to say…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m proud of you.” The words sounded as stiff as over-starched shirts, but gushing praise would never happen. This was as much as she would get from him.

  She touched his arm, desperate for some physical connection. “You are?”

  He nodded. “I know I can be…difficult sometimes. But I care about you.”

  “I appreciate that, Dad.”

  “And I still think you should go back to school.”

  Her stomach dropped. Had he really come all this way to push his own agenda? She tugged on the skirt of her dress, distracting herself from arguing with him.

  “But,” he continued with a sigh, “I know I could be more supportive with what you want to do. I do want what’s best for you, even if we don’t agree on what that is.”

  His words were a balm to her soul. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, too, Libby. Now, I suppose I should try one of these drinks.” He looked around, not smiling but not judging, either.

  “Let me grab one for you.” She flagged down a waiter and picked up a Caipiroska made with her lemon myrtle vodka. “Try this.”

  “I’m sorry I called it toxic cordial.” He said, taking a sip.

  “I know you didn’t mean it.” She hadn’t really, but he being here now was the proof she needed to keep trying at this relationship. “I’m curious, how did you end up getting the details for tonight? I never sent you the invitation in the end.”

  “Someone paid me a visit.” The barest hint of a smile crossed his lips. “Seems that boyfriend of yours is good for something.”

  Paul had ushered Kirk through the front door and then slipped into First via the staff entrance out in the alley. He wanted Libby to have a chance to talk with her father, and he didn’t want to risk her seeing him until he was absolutely prepared. Though judging by the way his whole body felt like it was suffering through an earthquake, feeling prepared was a luxury he would not experience tonight.