by Sarah Skye
Inside, I’m palming my eyes at Nate’s clueless wife. What a classless question. Who asks that anymore? Just because she’s not blonde and blue-eyed, we need to discuss her family origins?
But Lily recovers fast. “My dad’s from Iowa, and my mom’s from the Philippines.” She cocks her chin. “I’m guessing from your accent that you’re not from here either?”
Eileen blinks, but then laughs loudly. “Glasgow, but not the dodgiest bit, I swear.”
Lily’s posture relaxes, and my fists unclench in my pockets. I touch her back again—it’s a habit I could get very used to, if I’m honest—and gesture toward the bottle of champagne on the bar. “Drink, love?”
We nod again at our hosts and head inside. “Shit, sorry about that,” I murmur in her ear as we make for the beverages.
“I’m used to people assuming I must not be from around here because of the way I look. It’s fine.”
I hand her a flute of champagne and frown. “It’s very fucking far from fine. Ignorant, presumptive questions like that. And I’m the one trying to prove my place here? Fuck’s sake, Eileen, you grew up in the bloody alleys of Glasgow. Not the dodgiest bit my left nut. Her accent—”
My grumbling breaks off with Lily’s giggle. She covers her mouth and shakes her head. “Shush, someone will overhear.”
“Why are you laughing at me?” I’m grinning as I lay a hand on my heart.
“Because your accent gets so much stronger when you’re annoyed. It’s cute. When we first met I could hardly make it out, like you were trying to hide it.”
“I was. Or, better to say, I keep it as even as I can. I guess it just comes out when I’m worked up.”
“Worked up?” She quirks a brow and sips her drink. “Curious.”
I return the expression. “Interpret that as you will.”
“Calder Ross, is that you?” Patrick Wallace, Nate’s father, booms at me from across the room, breaking our moment of ease. “Damn, son, ye grew up right ugly, didnae ye now?”
I laugh and hurry to greet the head of the family. The corporate boys watch this reunion, which is precisely what I want—until I realize I’ve left Lily in the corner by the champagne. Fuck.
“Ah, Pat, come and meet Lily.” I guide him through the group. Lily, bless her, snaps right to attention and holds out her hand. I make the introductions, and Pat chats with us for a few minutes about Lily’s art class before drifting across the room.
Our private conversation is gone as the party gets into full swing. The beautiful, open grin that kicks my heart disappears from her face. Lily smiles, but it’s close-lipped and far more reserved than I’m used to seeing her. She’s got a knack for being in a crowd but somehow blending into the scenery, which I suppose is an ideal talent for a fake girlfriend. For me, though, it’s not the Lily I’ve been delighted to know for the past few weeks, and I’m not sure how to interpret it. As a result, I have a gorgeous, sweeter-than-I-deserve woman on my arm that I’m hardly interacting with.
We’re ushered to the dining room and sat at the long table. Dinner means a lot of talk about business, which means that Pat, Nate, and the corporate heads drive the chat. The sommeliers are in their own world, which leaves the women and me without much to do but eat and look interested.
Toward the end of the main course, I slide my arm around Lily’s shoulders like a boyfriend would and put my lips to her ear. “How are you, darling?”
Dammit. Her shoulders tense again, the fork dropping from her grip. She blinks quickly and puts on that smile. “Wonderful. Dinner is fantastic.” She directs this toward Eileen. “You chose an excellent menu.”
“Thank you! This is a new caterer, but I’m quite pleased too!” Eileen beams and pushes a slice of bread around her plate.
“Nicely done,” I whisper to Lily.
“I know what I’m doing.”
I wish I could see her smirk or give me a mischievous look, but Eileen starts saying something more about the caterer, and so I’m left wondering what the hell that comment meant. Does she think I doubted her ability to fit in here? Does she think I give a fuck about her hometown or catering knowledge? Doesn’t she get that I’m just very damn lucky to have a woman like her beside me—
“Cal, what projects do you have coming up?” Nate asks, a pointed look in his eyes.
I start to tear at my left index finger. Easy, that one’s a bit sore after the last party. If I go too long, I’ll tear the skin. Disgusting I know, but I can’t help it. “Oh, erm, well, I’m on a bit of hiatus right now. Am doing some work for the university as a model—that’s how I met Lily, actually—but things are quiet. Got some projects I’ve got my eye on for the holidays, though.”
“I bet you do.” Nate laughs, but I can see he likes my answer. The corporate heads nod slowly, but Pat asks something about tax penalties that captures their attention again.
“Calder, where is the restroom?” Lily’s voice is barely audible, but Eileen jumps in to give her directions anyway. “I’ll be back. If you’ll excuse me.”
Her eyes are flat as she looks at me and rises. I frown, but she pats my shoulder and disappears.
When she’s out of the room, Nate cocks a brow and shakes his head. “My, my, have the mighty fallen.”
“What’s that mean, then?”
He shrugs and leans back in his chair, idly stroking Eileen’s neck until she purrs and blushes. “My school mate had the ladies lined up for a date before he had hair on his balls. Everything I’ve seen about the great Calder Ross tells me that his skillset only improved over time. And now, here you are, all settled down with a woman and barely laying a hand on her.”
“You’d prefer I undress her at the dinner table?” There’s a defensive growl in my voice for two reasons. One, I’ve been fantasizing about running my tongue along Lily’s spine for most of the evening. A flick of a clasp, and that blousy top would flutter to her lap.
Two, he is absolutely right. I do know how to entertain a date, and I’m doing nothing of the sort with Lily.
He laughs. “While that would be interesting, I’m simply commenting on what I see. My friend seems to have settled down into a very, shall we say, staid relationship. You just don’t seem like yourself with her.”
“I believe I said I had made some changes. So what if things are different with her? Not every relationship has to be a tear-your-clothes-off situation.”
“Fine fine, just taking the piss,” he chuckles. “Good on you, settling.”
“Down, you mean?”
“Absolutely.”
Lily appears in her seat again a few minutes later, as the servers are clearing the plates and bringing out bottles of whisky and Glencairn glasses. The sommeliers sit up straight—clearly this is their moment, and I am all in. My tension melts as I gaze at the gorgeous amber liquid in the bottles, all three distinctly different hues, all three undoubtedly crafted to perfection.
Lily exhales a quiet sigh.
We’re led through an overview of all three bottles, the varying ages, casks, etc., before the first dram is poured. “Slàinte!” echoes around the room; the light-bodied whisky explodes in caramel notes on my tongue at the first sip. We take our time on that dram, commenting on the way it opens up, the legs on it, and then move on to the second pour.
I notice that Lily’s glass is missing very little of the original content. As the others smell and sip their new drams, I watch her lift the glass. Her lips part an infinitesimal amount, so small I’m not sure any liquid passes through at all. She sets the glass down, sips her water, and repeats this façade.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, somewhere between amused and horrified.
“Hmm? Oh, it’s lovely, isn’t it? Very… earthy.”
“You’re not drinking it, you fake.”
“Here, you can have some of mine if you want, honey.” She quickly hands me the glass.
I roll my eyes and finish both of our pours. “Cannae do that again and drive home, love.”
<
br /> “I’m just so full from the wine and champagne. But it’s wonderful.” Again, she’s pitched her voice strategically to be overheard.
Nate’s teasing in my head, I roll my eyes, cluck, and peck her cheek. “Fair enough.”
We finish the tasting and wrap the meal with strawberries and whipped cream. As plates are cleared, one of the corporate fellows nods my way. “Calder, I have to say, I liked the idea you pitched earlier about expanding the target market to women. It could be a great in-road to consider.”
I shrug, but inside I’m giving myself a massive high-five. “Plenty of lasses love whisky as much as their men. If we’re going for the hip millennial vibe, why cut out half the population?”
“Quite right. Definitely something to consider.” His wife leans over and whispers to him behind her hand, her cheeks bright red as her eyes cut to me. He chuckles and pats her arm. “Sandy wants me to tell you that Blazing Hearts is her current favorite book.”
My smile is for Sandy, and it’s designed to be disarming and commiserative all at once. “It’s such a great book, don’t you think? I read my copy before it was released, and I thought the story was so compelling.”
“It is,” she nearly cries before reigning it in at the table.
“What, Blazing Hearts? I’m rereading it now,” Eileen jumps in, and in a few moments every woman at the table, minus Lily, is gushing about the latest romance bestseller. Nate glances at Lily, then me, one brow arched, but I pretend not to see.
I was going to suggest we ride home with the top down, but somehow I sense the mood isn’t right for a night ride in a convertible. Instead, after we say goodnight, I tuck Lily into my passenger seat and push the car to top speed, more than ready to end this decidedly mixed bag of a night.
On the one hand, I’m pretty sure it was a massive win with Sonce.
On the other, Lily looks like she’s ready to tuck and roll out of this car, and I have no idea how the hell to make that better.
10
Lily
The entire car ride back to my place, all I can fixate on are the words that I overheard Nate say as I walked down the hall to the bathroom.
My friend seems to have settled down into a very, shall we say, staid relationship. You just don’t seem like yourself with her… Good on you, settling.
Immediately after that, Calder’s response echoes in my mind.
I believe I said I had made some changes. So what if things are different with her? Not every relationship has to be a tear-your-clothes-off situation.
I shouldn’t be hurt. I shouldn’t be feeling that sucker punch in the center of my chest at words I wasn’t even meant to hear. I’m not really Calder’s girlfriend. I should have been able to weather whatever was said.
But I can’t.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Calder says.
I almost make up an excuse—that I’m full from dinner or exhausted from work. But I stop myself. No more hiding; I need to say exactly what’s on my mind.
“Yeah, I just… I heard what Nate said to you. About how unnatural you seem with me.”
He twists his head to me, then looks back at the road. “You heard that?”
“Mmm-hmm. And I heard what you said in response.” I don’t repeat it. He knows what he said.
Instead of waiting for him to respond, I continue.
“I mean, it makes sense,” I say. “All those other women you were with, you had genuine feelings for.”
Calder snorts.
I sigh and shake my head. “Well, whatever you want to call it. Feelings, urges. You know what I mean. This is just a setup.”
He cuts his gaze to me again. “Lily, that’s not—”
I hold up a hand. “It’s okay. Really. I get it. This isn’t real. So it makes sense why us being together comes off as a little unnatural. But we need to do something about it if you want to nail this opportunity with Sonce.”
His frown is illuminated by headlights from an oncoming car.
“And honestly, I need us to look convincing too in front of my family and friends. Otherwise, they won’t buy it either, if Nate doesn’t,” I finish.
My mind floats back to how easy it was to pretend like we were together at Harmony’s bachelorette party. But I was drunk then. So was everyone else. People are going to be sober for the apple orchard gathering, so we can’t rely on alcohol to sell us as a couple.
The idea I’ve been mulling around in my mind ever since overhearing Calder and Nate takes hold. It’s going to be silly as hell to say out loud, but it’s necessary. If this is going to work, if we’re going to come off like an actual couple, we need to start acting like one.
“I guess my idea of setting rules about touching each other and PDA comes off a bit… stiff.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Calder pursing his lips like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Maybe not the greatest word choice,” I say softly. “We need to come off more natural. Believable.”
“And how do we do that?”
I take a breath and turn to face him. “We practice.”
My hands shake as I unlock the door to my duplex. I flip on the light as Calder walks in behind me and shuts the door. I hold in my breath as I survey the living space. Not terrible. An empty water glass sits on my coffee table and there are a couple of sweaters strewn over the couch, but it’s not at all messy thankfully.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, gesturing to the plushy couch against the far wall as I head to the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” I holler as I turn on the faucet and fill a glass with water.
Calder says something I can’t understand, so I walk back out into the living room.
“Sorry, what did you—” I stop dead in my tracks when I see what he’s holding.
His eyes go wide at the hot pink strapless bra in his hand, but then he reels in his expression when he looks at me. “This was between your couch cushions when I sat down.”
I walk over and swipe it out of his hand, then hold it behind my back. “Sorry about that.” My mind flashes back to the night that I came home drunk from Harmony’s bachelorette party. I started undressing the minute I shut the door behind me. No wonder I couldn’t find that bra these past few days.
I suspect my face is as pink as the bra as I stand in front of Calder.
“I um, I mean, do you want something to drink?” I ask him.
“I think I had enough alcohol for one night. How about water?”
I scurry back to the kitchen, toss my bra on the floor, and then return to the living room with two glasses of water.
“I think water is a good idea,” I say, setting the glasses down on the coffee table and taking a seat on the other end of the couch.
I fix my gaze on Calder, who’s sitting with a relaxed posture. His eyes read the tiniest bit nervous though. It’s a comfort, knowing I’m not the only one currently pissing myself with nerves. I down half the water in my glass while he takes a more reasonable sip. When I look back at him, he’s studying the clay sculpture sitting on the bookcase against the wall. I glance at the self-portrait bust I completed years ago. The earthy red-brown mass of clay depicts a head leaning back. Endless squiggly etches adorn the back of the head to look like hair. Two hands grip the sides of the neck. The face consists of two open eyes, a button nose, and a small, full rosebud mouth.
“That’s mesmerizing,” he says.
“Oh. Thanks.”
He turns to me. “You sculpted that?”
I nod. “A while ago. My take on a self-portrait.”
He opens his mouth but says nothing, like he’s shocked. Then he looks once more at the sculpture, then at me. “Lily, why didn’t you tell me you were a sculptor in addition to a teacher? That’s so…”
“Typical?” I let out a chuckle.
He turns back to me, frowning at what I’ve said. “No. Brilliant. Talented. Impressive.”
I bite my lip and stare at the ground as I absorb the wonder in his
eyes and how sincere he sounds. “I don’t talk much about my art.”
The pain of Marco selling all of the pieces I made and gave to him as gifts flashes through me. I swallow and will it away.
“You should, Lily. You’re bloody talented.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“Did you do those too?” He points to an abstract gold sculpture the size of a dinner plate that sits on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, then to a large decorative, earth-toned vase near my front door.
“Yup,” I say, taking another sip of water.
“Christ,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on the vase. “How long did it take you to make that?”
“A few weeks. I have a pottery wheel in my garage. I’ll show you next time when we don’t have other things to do.”
He looks at me and smiles. “Ah, yes, the wheel. Believe we discussed that a few weeks ago.” His teasing drops as I blush, his voice gentler as he says, “You’d better show me. I want to know all about the artistic genius of Lily Maldonado.”
I roll my eyes and laugh.
But he places his hand on my arm. “I’m serious. You’re brilliant. Honestly, brilliant isn’t even a good enough word. I’m surprised you didn’t mention you were an artist before. I thought you only taught.”
“I didn’t think to bring it up. Not a lot of people who run in my circle are interested in my creative interests.”
“That’s royally fucked up, Lily.”
I shrug and point to the bust he first noticed. “I sculpted that the week after I dropped out of law school. My parents were so pissed at me. They didn’t speak to me for a month. That was how I felt at that moment.”
“Angry? Frustrated?”
“Free.”
A sweet smile tugs at his mouth. “I love that.”
There’s a giddiness inside of me that I haven’t felt in a while. Yeah, I talk about art all day at school. And yes, I’m lucky enough to have colleagues and friends who I can share my work with. But it would mean the world if the people I love—my parents—cared too. If they acknowledged me as the artist I strive to be instead of only seeing me as a disappointment with a barely tolerable career.
