Mr. Man Candy: A Fake Boyfriend Romance

by Alessandra Hart

  “What’s the ‘woo!’ stage?” I asked, lifting a quizzical brow.

  She gave me a rueful smile. “You know, those girls who are always excited and cheering about everything while they take about a million photos of themselves and their friends. Woo!”

  “You were like that?” I chuckled. “Nope, can’t picture it.”

  She rubbed her forearms. “It was a different time. I was twenty-one, okay?”

  “Wasn’t that long ago. Would any of these Spring Break photos happen to be up on your Facebook? I assume you use that, if not Instagram.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Her cheeks were beet red now. “My albums are all private now, for work reasons.” She cocked her head to the side. “At least I think they are. I’ll have to double-check later.”

  She yawned loudly and settled back into the seat, covering her mouth. “Yeah, check later. You seem really tired,” I said, patting her on the head before gleefully doing an internet search for ‘Georgie Miller Facebook’ on my phone.

  I wasn’t some dirty sleaze who wanted to sneak a peek of Georgie in a bikini. I just wanted to see evidence that she wasn’t always this prim, staid workaholic who only wore sensible clothing. And yeah, okay, I kinda wanted to see her in a bikini as well. So sue me.

  I scanned the Google results. There were about a million Georgie Millers, it seemed. I added ‘San Diego’ to the search to see if that would help matters, and my eyes widened at the top option in the new set of results.

  It was a San Diego engagement photography business’s Facebook page, and a certain Georgie Miller had commented on one of their posts saying, ‘This is my favorite one of us!’

  I clicked into it.

  The photo in question was definitely of my Georgie, and according to the date, it was taken in 2013. She was standing in a park overlooking a lake, her eyes planted on the face of a man I could only assume was her fiancé. He was tall and blond, and the look of adoration on his face was outshined only by Georgie’s loving gaze.

  She looked happy. So very happy.

  A cold, creeping feeling slithered its way through my insides as I stared at the photo. Not a feeling I was used to. It was akin to what I imagined a wildly jealous person might feel right before they scratched curse words into their love rival’s car with a set of keys.

  That was it. Jealousy, for the first time in my life.

  The feeling soon gave way to confusion as I glanced over at Georgie, who was now happily snoring again. From all our pre-vacation prep, I thought I knew everything about her. So how was it possible that I didn’t know she was once engaged? Maybe even married for a short time.

  I guess she left a few details out during our long chats. Either she didn’t want me to know, or she thought her family wouldn’t dare to bring it up in front of me, meaning I didn’t need to know. Or perhaps it was a bit of both.

  I looked down at the photo again before clicking through the entire series. In the short time that I’d known her, I’d never seen her come close to looking this radiant. That glow on her face, the sparkle in her eyes… it seemed clear that being in a serious relationship was what made her happiest. So what changed? Why did she shun relationships now?

  Something terrible must’ve happened.

  I clicked onto Georgie’s Facebook profile. I didn’t use the site myself, so it kept slowing me down by prompting me to log in, but eventually I managed to get onto her timeline to see her major life events. Stalker-mode engaged.

  After scrolling back, I found the post I was looking for. February 14th, 2013 – Georgina Miller got engaged to Matthew Martin.

  I snorted. This guy proposed on Valentine’s Day? How fucking original.

  I scrolled back up again until I found the next post I was looking for. September 27th, 2013 – Georgina Miller is now single.

  There were a few ‘OMG babe, what happened?’ comments on that particular post, but Georgie hadn’t replied to them. In fact, she’d barely used her profile at all since then. There were a few tagged pictures of her with friends here and there, but it was nothing compared with what her profile used to be like in previous years, with countless photos of an exuberant Georgie and frequent posts and status updates.

  It was like her broken engagement had sucked the life out of her.

  No wonder she didn’t tell me about it. She probably hated even thinking about it, let alone talking about it. And Christ, that also explained why she’d been so cold and humorless lately. The closer we got to heading off on this vacation, the more she shut herself off. A coping mechanism of sorts, to prevent herself from rehashing whatever marriage-related nightmare she’d once endured. It couldn’t be easy watching her younger sister joyfully experience everything that hadn’t worked out in her own life.

  Idly, I wondered what happened between her and Matthew to end things. Did he mess it up? Did she mess it up? Did he die? My stomach lurched at the thought, and I quickly shut my phone off and slid it back in my pocket. But that didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts.

  Would Georgie and Matthew be right here, curled up together in the seats and giddy with excitement, if whatever tragedy had befallen them never occurred? Would they be holding hands with hopeful adoration in their eyes? Kissing with an endless amount of tongue? Or kissing softly, sweetly, with Matthew whispering promises in Georgie’s ear between nuzzles?

  Folding my arms across my chest, I forced the thoughts away, not wanting to go down that road. The past was the past. None of my business. If Georgie wanted me to know, she would’ve made it my business by telling me, so now I felt like shit for invading her privacy. Going through her old Facebook posts made me feel like I’d been caught rummaging through her underwear drawer or flicking through her private diary.

  Guilt roiled in my guts, and I darted a glance at Georgie to make sure she was definitely asleep again. Thankfully, she was. I still felt terrible.

  Yawning, I sat back and closed my eyes, focusing on thoughts of the Bunbury Islands. In just four hours, we’d arrive at Prideau’s Resort where the champagne was always flowing, the attendants were always on hand, and the cerulean pools were always the perfect temperature for a swim. All that featuring Georgie as my ‘girlfriend’ equaled pure paradise.

  Now that was something to feel good about.

  10

  Nate

  At ten-thirty, our boat finally left Bermuda. A couple of hours later, we were cruising into Prideau’s very own private docking area on Saint Clare Island.

  As far as islands went, the place was picture-perfect. A wide swath of pale pink sand unfolded in front of us, meeting the twinkling turquoise waves as they lapped steadily at the shoreline, and golden-tanned tourists lay outside on deck chairs, relaxing with colorful cocktails as they enjoyed the balmy weather.

  The resort itself was a sprawling cream-colored Italianate building with terraces and wings coming off it on every side like branches of a tree. Stunning and classic. Bathed in bright sunlight, it sat right on the edge of the North Atlantic waters, enveloped with the fragrant aroma of its lush gardens, the salty sea air, and the thick verdant stretch of trees behind it.

  “Oh, wow,” Georgie breathed, shielding her eyes with one hand on her forehead. “It’s gorgeous.”

  Not as gorgeous as your ass in those white pants, I wanted to say as she leaned over the boat railing to peer at the resort grounds. Instead I remained uncharacteristically well-behaved, still feeling the guilt from earlier. “It is,” I said with an agreeable nod. “I’ll get all our cases. You don’t need to lift a finger.”

  She gave me a half smile. “It’s okay. I’m not tired anymore. I think I slept enough today to last me about ten years.”

  We lugged our suitcases onto the polished wooden dock, and we were greeted at the end by a tall man in a crisp white shirt and boating shorts. He insisted on taking some of our cases as he let us know exactly where to check in. His lilting accent was difficult to understand at first, but I got the general gist of what he was saying.


  Flashing us a blindingly-white smile a moment later, he nodded and bade us goodbye, leaving us at the check-in counter. Georgie spoke to one of the young receptionists behind the desk while I kept an eye on our suitcases. She returned a moment later.

  “Okay, so apparently my mother already collected our keycards and left a message for us. She’s in one of the hotel restaurants having lunch with Libby and Bobby right now. The girl at the desk said she can either give us spare cards, or we can leave our bags here to be taken up for us while we go collect our keys from Mom.”

  “Keys? Plural?”

  Georgie gave me a glassy stare, minutely shaking her head. “You didn’t think we’d be in the same room, did you?”

  “Err…yeah, kinda.”

  She pressed her lips together for a second before replying. “I booked an extra room for you. I told everyone we were taking things slow and didn’t want to jeopardize that by sleeping in the same bed.”

  “Cute. But not really believable.”

  She arched her brows. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re too damn sexy for anyone to believe a man would agree to take things slow with you.”

  In the past, she would’ve twisted her lips in a mixture of embarrassment and amusement at such a comment from me. Now she simply sighed. “Let’s just leave our luggage here and find Mom and Libby. Saves us taking it all up later.”

  I scraped a hand through my hair. “Wow. Throwing me right in the deep end, huh?” I said.

  “We don’t have to meet them now. But I’m pretty hungry.”

  I shook my head and steeled my jaw. “No, it’s fine. Better that we rip the Band-Aid off as soon as possible. And the more time we spend with them, the easier it will get.”

  “Yes. Do you remember everything?”

  We ran through a brief last-minute checklist of the most important parts of our backstory. “I guess we’re as ready as we can ever be,” Georgie finally said with a sigh, picking at a fingernail.

  I slung an arm around her shoulder and winked. “Let’s go, doll. We’ll be fine.”

  We wandered through the lobby in search of the restaurant. A few moments later, Georgie stopped and pointed at a place with big glass picture windows and an outside deck with an ocean view. “That’s the one.”

  A short, dark-haired maître d’ greeted us at the entrance with an eager smile. I told him we were here to meet a party already seated in the restaurant, and he quickly sprang into action, leading us toward our table.

  Georgie stiffened for a second, then began to tremble. I squeezed her hand. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Everything will be fine. No one will suspect a thing. From this moment on, I’m your boyfriend, and I’ve always got your back. Got it?”

  She nodded and sucked a shaky breath in. I moved my hand to her lower back, feeling the heat of her skin under the thin fabric of her top as I guided her through the restaurant.

  “Your party is right there at table eighteen.” The maître d’ smiled and motioned toward a table at the very back of the restaurant.

  I spotted a woman fitting the description of Georgie’s mother immediately. Cool-toned ash blonde hair, perfectly-coiffed. Ice blue eyes. Prim sweater set despite the warm weather. On her right sat a strawberry blonde girl, who had to be Libby. She was giggling with her right hand on the shoulder of a man next to her. Bobby, I presumed.

  We drew closer, and my blood froze in my veins.

  I halted and turned to Georgie, my forehead lined with incredulity. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  I turned my gaze back to the happy couple. Georgie’s sister was now draping herself across her fiancé’s lap. “That.” I pointed at them. “You knew about this, right?”

  She shook her head slowly. “I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

  I stared intently at her, my eyes narrowed with suspicion. Her own eyes were wide and filled with confusion. Clearly, she had no idea what my problem was, and she wasn’t doing this to spite me. This was all a not-so-happy accident.

  I sighed and pointed directly at Libby’s fiancé. “You won’t believe this,” I began. “But that’s him. Robert. Your sister is marrying my fucking brother!”

  11

  Georgie

  ‘Shit-storm’ was too small and petty a term to describe what was happening right now. This was a Category 5 shit-hurricane.

  Upon spotting us a moment ago, Mom had immediately waved us over, and we knew we were trapped—we had to approach, because we’d already been seen. After that, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

  Libby turned and smiled, only for her blissful expression to vanish, replaced with abject horror. Bobby was much the same. The smile slid right off his face, and his eyes narrowed with cold animosity. “You,” he said.

  One word to launch what seemed like ten thousand arguments.

  Nate strode up to the table, fury etched in his handsome features. Bobby stood up, nearly matching his brother in height. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked.

  Nate snorted derisively. “I could say the same to you. Spending all my money on this lavish vacation and wedding, huh? That’s nice.”

  “It’s my money. And I’ll ask you again—what the fuck are you doing here? Did you trick poor Georgie into thinking you were interested in her so you could come ruin my wedding?” He cast a pitying look in my direction, and my insides clenched.

  Nate’s hands balled into fists by his side. “Of course not. I didn’t even know her sister was marrying you! I was under the impression Libby’s fiancé was actually a nice guy, not some traitorous dickhead.”

  I stood and watched the argument unfold, stunned into silence. Mom was doing the same with wide eyes. Libby looked like she was about to faint.

  “So I’m supposed to believe this was just a coincidence, huh?” Bobby rolled his eyes. “You weren’t done screwing my life up back home, so you felt the need to come here and fuck up my wedding too. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.”

  “Oh, spare me. How the hell would I have even known you were getting married? Not like I received an invitation! I didn’t even know you got engaged.”

  Bobby held his palms up. “I tried calling you the other week to let you know. Figured maybe we could bury the hatchet for a few days while I got married. But you never picked up your phone. So don’t blame me for that shit! I tried to tell you.”

  I knew that part was true. I’d been in Nate’s car when Bobby tried calling during that storm. Of course, I didn’t know who ‘Robert’ was at the time. If I did, all of this could’ve been avoided.

  But how could I have known? All Bobby had ever told me about his family in the past was that he had none coming to the wedding. I knew from past conversations with Libby that he had a brother somewhere, but I assumed (correctly, I suppose) from the fact that he wasn’t coming to the wedding that they weren’t on speaking terms. I wasn’t told at any point that his estranged brother was actually the famous Nate Scott. He’d never said a thing about that, and neither had my sister.

  Libby had mentioned that Bobby was trying to build an investment startup with the abundance of capital he’d saved and invested in the past. However, I had no idea he was the very same Robert who allegedly took Nate’s money and ran before starting up a competing brokerage.

  It all made so much sense now that I had all the puzzle pieces.

  I bit the inside of my cheek as I stared at Bobby, trying to convince my brain that this was really happening; that he really was who Nate said he was. He’d always seemed so calm and mild-mannered whenever I spoke to him in the past. Could it be possible that he was actually the thieving, duplicitous snake Nate had painted him as?

  As much as I tried, I couldn’t see it. Was Nate wrong, or was I simply too naïve to see the truth about other people’s base natures?

  The two brothers kept arguing, and Libby moved around closer to Mom, trembling as a fat tear rolled down her cheek. “Oh
my god,” she kept repeating.

  “Libby, I’m so sorry,” I said, finally finding my tongue as I slid into a chair. “I had no idea Nate was Bobby’s brother.”

  She simply sat there staring at me with her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

  As Nate and his brother continued slinging jibes at each other, my mother looked at me and flared her nostrils. “This is disgusting,” she hissed. “Sabotaging your own sister’s wedding, all because you couldn’t handle being single and lonely while she got to be happy. You unbelievably selfish little child.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

  She scoffed. “How stupid do you think I am? This is no coincidence!” She waved her hand at Nate and Bobby.

  “It is! I had no idea Nate was Bobby’s brother!” I said.

  Mom rolled her eyes and snorted. “So let me get this straight. Nate Scott is your new boyfriend, and you had no idea Bobby was his brother? I’m supposed to believe that, am I?”

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Her lips curled in a disbelieving sneer, and the look in her eyes was icy enough to sink the Titanic. “There’s no way you’d have a boyfriend for almost three months and not know anything about his family.”

  “Well, did you know exactly who Bobby’s brother was? Because no one ever told me it was Nate!”

  Her face turned pink, and she sniffed. “Well, no, but I’m not in a relationship with him! You knew. You obviously seduced Nate and brought him here just to mess things up! All for attention, because you couldn’t stand someone else stealing what you think should be your thunder.”

  I slammed my hand down on the table. “Mom! How dare you? You actually think I’d do something to hurt Libby or sabotage her wedding? What is wrong with you?”

  “How else do you explain this, then? I don’t know what happened between those two, but clearly they despise each other.” She waved her hands at the two brothers, who were still trading insults and getting louder by the second. Other restaurant patrons were beginning to turn and stare at our table.