“Yeah, uh…” Amy started, but trailed off. She almost felt bad about having to admit to the wild scheme she’d come up with. She hadn’t thought about involving their parents, though on second thought, it was the smart thing to do. She didn’t want word getting back to their families that they were engaged and have everything go to hell. That was, assuming Sam was willing to help her. Judging by the way he sat across from her, arms crossed and scowling, she was wasting her breath.
“I’ll make it a short story for you,” Sam cut in. He skewered her with his eyes and she wanted to melt under the table. “Amy wants me to pretend to be her fiancé, of all things, so that her ex-husband and her clients see that she’s doing well. She’s become used to a certain lifestyle and she doesn’t want to give that up.”
“Sam!” Amy hissed.
“Well, let’s hear more about it,” Henry said after a long, tense pause. He grabbed a cookie and nibbled the corner before lifting the chipped white mug that was in front of him and taking a long sip of probably cold coffee.
Amy squirmed. “It’s- uh- it does sound really stupid and crazy. I got a divorce a year and a half ago and my husband and I have a lot of the same friends. Many of those friends are my clients who buy my art. Besides the fact that my ex likes to secretly and not so secretly keep tabs on me, other people think there’s something wrong with me.”
“Which, obviously, there is, for you to come up with some scheme like this.” Sam rolled his eyes.
Amy waited a moment, but Betty and Henry both waited patiently. They ignored Sam as if he wasn’t even there. She paused, but their faces were both open. She saw no judgment in their eyes, so she continued.
“They say I can’t move on. They say that I want my ex back. I don’t want to give him that idea. I don’t want anyone to get that idea, because that certainly isn’t true. It does sound shallow and ridiculous, but if people don’t like me or at least the image I put out there, they won’t buy my art. I depend on that to make a living. No matter what Sam thinks, I don’t have that kind of lifestyle anymore. I don’t have a huge house or nice things. I mean, uh, not really. I didn’t ask for a settlement so… my ex kept everything. I just wanted out. I do put up a front that I do, have nice things I mean, but in reality, I live at my studio. Which is expensive. People come there to look at art and I have a gallery sort of set up downstairs. I want to keep that. Short of going back to school for a real degree, not just an Arts Degree, I don’t know what to do. And I need money for mom and dad.” She finally stopped and waited.
The room was utterly silent. Finally Henry raised his cookie to his mouth and took a bite. He chewed slowly, loudly.
Betty cleared her throat. “Well, I still say that it sounds like a decent plan. No worse than anything else I’ve heard.”
“Mom is getting really bad. You know that.” Amy didn’t want to cry. She found herself blinking back tears yet again. “She needs to be in a full time care facility. Dad’s getting too old to take that on.”
Sam’s mom immediately reached across the table and took Amy’s hand in hers. “Oh, honey. Your mom refuses to say anything. We talk about everything, but that. I know going into care is the last thing she wants. She keeps telling me she’s fine, but I know she’s not. I see how worn out your dad is.”
“This might sound a little evil or ulterior or something, but if I were to suddenly have this mysterious secret fiancé, it would spark a lot of interest. People like to get into other people’s business. They would commission work from me just to try and get the scoop about who I was hiding away. I’m not trying to be underhanded. That is really just a bonus that I really need right now. The main reason is that my ex-husband would finally stop keeping tabs on me. He may be more into it at first, to try and see who I’m with, but once he thinks that I’m happy and established, he will leave me alone. He’s not a creep. He’s just holding out hope, as sad as it sounds and no matter how I try and tell him there isn’t any, he won’t take no for an answer.”
“Why don’t you just find someone real to move on with?” Sam bit out.
“Sam!” Betty jumped to her defense. “You should know it’s not that easy. You can’t just find someone and force yourself to be with them.”
“Why not? That’s what this plan is about.”
“Honestly, if the plan worked, I would have enough money to find mom a good place and find dad an apartment to stay in close to her, or maybe find a place that would let them move in together or hire a nurse. They’re going to have to move to the city and put the house up for sale. Having a nurse drive all this way everyday would cost a fortune.”
“You could just move back.”
“Sam! Seriously, I don’t know what’s got into you.” Betty gave her son a glare of her own. Beside her, Henry kept silent. He was sipping on a mug of coffee that seemed to be bottomless.
“Well, come on, mom. You can’t seriously be sitting here thinking that I should do this.”
“Why not?” Betty’s stare down never wavered. “Ellie is one of my oldest, dearest friends. She needs help. I can see it. I’ve been able to see it for a long time. She doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone so she’s been managing for as long as she can, but she can only do so much. Amy’s right. It costs a lot of money to go into one of those places or to get a nurse.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to pin this on me,” Sam hissed. “If I don’t do this, I’m going to look like a psycho who doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings.”
“No, Sam-”
“No, really, Amy. You came here and you pinned me into a corner. What can I do other than say yes?”
“Would it really be so bad?” Betty prodded her son. She looked on hopefully. “Just going out on a couple dates with Amy? You guys used to be such good friends. I remember you and Howie and Amy and Izzie running around here all the time while Ellie and I visited. How is your sister, Amy?”
Amy almost smiled at how Betty could just flow from one subject to the next so flawlessly. “She’s good,” she assured her. “She’s married, has two kids.”
“Yes, Ellie talks about her grand kids all the time. I just wanted to make sure everyone was still doing good.”
“They’re great. They live in San Diego so mom doesn’t get to see them as much as she likes.”
“Yes, that’s a shame.”
“She can’t travel, really. Or at least, she’s scared to, I think.”
“You’re right.”
“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”
Amy hardly dared to look at Sam. She was afraid to see the anger on his face, since his voice was so strained and filled with an undercurrent of rage. She knew he wished she’d never come. She was starting to wish it as well. I should have done what he said and just found anyone. Anyone who would be willing to take the bait of money. But she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t trust just anyone not to screw things up. And in all honesty, there were more than one reason she’d come to Sam.
Because, after all those years of trying to forget, it was obvious that she still loved him. I’m pathetic. Totally, completely pathetic. She could see why Sam didn’t like her. She didn’t even like herself at the moment.
“Sam, please.” Betty sounded tired of telling her son to behave.
Amy knew that she had to wrap things up fast. “It’s alright,” she assured Betty and Henry. “Thanks for the cookies. I really should be going. If Sam doesn’t want to do this, that’s totally fine with me. I came here to ask him, not force him.”
“Oh, he’ll do it,” Henry finally spoke up. He turned slowly to Sam who was almost scarlet. He refused to look at Amy, which she felt was a good thing at the moment. “You’ll help Amy out. Ellie is your mom’s best friend. She looked after you all the time when you were a kid and we needed a helping hand here and there. What’s a few weeks, Sam? Do it for old times’ sakes.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want to do it.”
“What do you mean by that?�
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“She left. She left and she broke Howie’s heart,” Sam protested.
It was more than that. When his eyes finally met hers, Amy could see the same reluctance and hesitation she felt in her own heart. She could see all the emotion there, hidden, latent, and hardly dared to hope. Surely Sam didn’t feel anything for her after all those years? If anything, the emotion she thought she saw, the reluctance and hesitation was the anger and the fact that his parents were apparently going to guilt him into helping her out.
“Your brother is happily married now,” Henry reasoned. “What happened was a long time ago. People change. They make mistakes. Amy was young. Howie was young. He was happily off in college not long after.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point then?” Sam’s dad asked firmly. “I want you to tell me how a few weeks can hurt anyone? It’s for a great cause. You’d be helping everyone out.”
“What if no one buys her art? What if that’s just a long shot?”
“A long shot is still better than no shot.” Betty blinked hard, obviously trying not to cry herself. Amy saw it and had to blink back tears of her own yet again.
“Please, Sam,” Amy pleaded. “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t really important to me. My ex is one thing. I feel like if I did this, it really would get him to stop and move on, but my mom really is another. I’m not trying to put that on you-”
“Oh really? Sure feels that way.”
“I’m really not. If you want to say no, you still can.”
She watched Sam for any sign that he was going to cave. He remained stoic, his jaw rigid with anger, his shoulders set. The room was deadly calm.
All of a sudden the shrill buzzer of the oven went off. Amy realized the kitchen was flooded with the smell of fresh baked bread and had been for some time. She’d concentrated so hard on everything else that she’d tuned it right out.
Betty jumped up. Henry took another sip of his coffee. Amy squeezed her hands tight in her lap.
Sam let out a long sigh. His shoulders sagged and when he looked at her, he looked defeated. Angry, but defeated.
“Alright. For your mom. For my mom. For my dad and your dad and your sister. But not for you.”
“Yeah,” she said, automatically shutting down the hurt that rose in her chest.
Her heart fell. I was stupid to hope for anything else. There is nothing there. Whatever was there in the past, if anything, is long dead. Maybe she’d imagined it then too. Maybe she’d gone away for no reason at all. She couldn’t be sure. They’d never talked about it.
Sam stood and angrily shoved back his chair. “Text me I guess. Right now I’m going for a run.”
“You’re what?” Betty’s mouth fell from her spot by the stove. She produced the tray of fresh buns and set them on top to cool.
“Yeah. A run. And a long, cold shower. I might be doing this, I might have to pretend to be happy about it, but I’m not. Not at all.”
With that parting shot, he left the room and an undeniable chill settled in his wake.
Chapter 5
The Game Plan
Sam
Wear your best shirt. Yes, jeans are probably okay. Do you have a watch? On second thought, skip it. We can take my car. Polish your shoes if you have time. No you don’t need to bring anything. Are you sure you’re ready for this?
Amy’s questions banged around in his skull on repeat. In short, she was telling him to look his best and behave. She was questioning whether he really had it in him to pull off the whole fake fiancé game.
Six days had passed since he was basically bullied into accepting Amy’s ridiculous plan. He’d agreed to help because of his parents. For no other reason. None at all.
Not because I want to help her. Not because I want the money. Certainly not because I give a shit about what she feels or thinks.
Amy Anders. She was like a disease that he couldn’t shake. The Anders Syndrome. Anders Virus? Andersititis? Any of those probably fit the bill.
Sam had never ironed a shirt in his life. He’d gone out and purchased a pair of square toed dress shoes, leather ones, from the mall. They’d polished them there, so there was no need to know how to do that. He’d dug in his closet for a shirt and come up with the one he’d worn to some wedding a million years ago. His hopes that the washer and dryer would take the wrinkles out of it had been in vein. He’d had to purchase a damn iron because he was too embarrassed to ask his mom to do it for him.
He cursed low under his breath as he put the hot iron to the shirt. He had it spread out on his bed. He knew it was probably a damn fire hazard to do it without a board, but to hell with it. He wasn’t going to burn down his place any time soon.
Amy might have wormed her way into his parents’ hearts, but there was nothing there in his. Liar. Okay, well there was nothing worth anything there in his. Whatever sad, pathetic sentiment he held there wasn’t true feeling. It was the teenage version of himself, still unable to let go of his first crush. I can’t believe I thought I loved her. I don’t even know who Amy is anymore.
She’d changed. He hardly recognized her, at least on the inside. But then again, he’d changed too.
The buzzer went off, shrill and angry sounding in the small apartment. He already knew that Amy was there to pick him up. No one else would bother to stop by on a Saturday evening. People went out and did fun things. They sat around and drank and had a good time. They didn’t stop by his apartment to pick his sorry ass up. He dragged himself out if he wanted to be a part of it. No, it could only be Amy.
Perversely, Sam thought about making her wait. He would have been real satisfied if she had to sit out on his doorstep and think hard about exactly what it was she was doing there.
Instead of leaving her out there like he would have preferred to, instead of calling off the whole damn thing like he wanted to, he set the hot iron down on the nightstand, plastic side up so it couldn’t do any damage. He yanked the cord out of the wall and stalked over to the intercom. He didn’t say anything, just pressed the door release and waited.
A few minutes later he heard the unmistakable click and scrape of high heels on the industrial carpet in the hall. It was supposed to blanket sound, but it did a terrible job. Almost as terrible as the paper thin walls that separated the apartments.
He pulled open the door before she knocked. She looked stunned for a moment, before she composed herself. Her full pinks lips pursed into an expression that wasn’t a smile, a frown or a pout before they relaxed again.
“You’ve gone all out.” He skipped right over the hello and taunted her.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “This is how I usually dress now.”
She glanced down self-consciously at her tight olive green dress and sky high black pumps. They pushed up every single graceful, lengthy muscle in her long, shapely legs. The dress was expensive. The cut and quality were far superior to what most people usually wore. He was no fashionista, but he knew just by looking at it that it was high end. The dress shadowed her flowing hips, an admittedly incredible ass and narrow waist. Because he had eyes and he couldn’t help but looking, he noticed right away that the creamy swell of her ample breasts overflowed the dress just enough to be enticing without being at all trashy or slutty.
“Do you always go to the salon for your hair before a social outing?” He bit the question off without actually inviting her inside. She hung back, uncertain.
“No. I did my hair myself.”
He had to take a double take at the tight roll knotted up at the back of her head. It looked stunning and with the little blonde tendrils and pearl bob earrings in her delicate earlobes, flawless makeup, fake long lashes, a splash of blush and pink lips, Amy was another creature altogether. She was a goddess, something that he couldn’t dare hope to ascend to.
“How do you think this is going to work?” Sam leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “I’m a million miles below you.”
Amy f
rowned. Her eyes swept over his faded t-shirt with the car emblem and his dirty, greasy jeans. “Well, you’ll clean up nicely, I bet.”
“No matter what I do, I’m never going to be able to scrub the grease out of my skin or the dirt from under my nails. What do you plan on saying about a fiancé who has mechanic’s hands? That gives me away as a blue collar worker all day long?”
“Well…” Amy hesitated. “Maybe we should talk about this inside.”
“No, we should talk about this now. It’s a part of your plan that you conveniently overlooked.”
Amy blinked hard. “No, you’re not going to bail on me, Sam. I’m not going to let you.” She put her hands square on his chest and pushed him inside the apartment.
He had no choice but to step back as she pushed against him. He didn’t want her body to brush up against him, but those hands on his chest sent his heart into overdrive and as she leaned in, her breasts grazed his t-shirt. It was the most innocent contact, one she probably wasn’t even aware of, but it was like someone planted their fist into the pit of his stomach and pushed down with a hell of a lot of force. The air rushed out of his lungs in a hard puff.
“We’re going to get you cleaned up. Go, get dressed. I’ll take care of your hair and whatever after.”
“My- my hair? What the hell is wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing. At least, well, I’ll figure it out. Go.” She pointed behind him, referencing the bedroom though she had never been in the apartment before.
“And you’ll come up with the lies?” He bit off, harsher than he intended, to cover up all the shit he wasn’t supposed to be feeling at all. He felt awkward and flustered and was sure that Amy could tell.
“Yes. I’ll come up with something.” She paused. “Maybe classic cars or something. You could say that it’s a hobby that you’re trying to turn into a career.”
“That’s ridiculous. Anyone would see through that right away.”
“Okay, a hobby maybe? It isn’t that far off from the mark is it? I mean, you’re a mechanic so you would know something about it.”
Fake It: A Sizzling Hot Pretend Romance Page 3
