by Lila Kane
Ben turned my chin so I’d look at him. “You can talk to me.”
“I was just…thinking about the theater.”
He took my hand. “I know you’re worried about it, but…”
I smiled at him. “I know. You want to wait to deal with it. And I get that, but—”
The house phone rang, making me glance over with a frown.
“Stay there,” Ben said, standing and walking to it. “Yes?” he said into the phone. “Of course. I’ll be down in a minute.”
I started to get off the couch. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a delivery at the front desk,” he said, returning to the couch. “I’ll go grab it. Just relax.”
I reached for my pants with a smile. “I could use the exercise.”
He grinned and glanced to the couch. “I thought we just did that.”
“Ha. I mean, more exercise.” When he frowned, I walked around the couch and touched his cheek. “I can’t stay in here forever.”
He sighed and then bowed his forehead so it touched mine. “I know. And I get where you’re coming from. It’s just…too soon.”
My heart clenched tight. Too soon for him, was what he wasn’t saying. I’d seen how shaken he’d been when he’d seen me outside the theater. And he hadn’t let me leave his side again. He was scared to death something else might happen, and it might be that way for a little longer until he knew that I really was okay.
I kissed him softly on lips. “I’m okay. But how about I get dressed while you get the delivery? And maybe…maybe we can do a short walk this afternoon. Wherever you want to go. The park, maybe. Not for long.”
He nodded. “I think that sounds good. I’ll be right back.”
Once he was in the elevator, I finished getting dressed, deciding not to take a shower yet. I’d do that after our walk later. And I’d try to convince Ben to join me.
I walked to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my hair, and when I was finished, I heard Ben’s footsteps in the hallway.
“Libby?”
“In here,” I said, walking out to the bedroom at the same time he walked in.
I caught the tale end of worry on his face before he smiled again. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I assured him. I gestured to the oversized envelope in his hand. “What’s that?”
He glanced down. “It’s from work.” He held it out. “But it’s for you.”
I blinked, surprised, then took the envelope from him. There were several pages of paper inside, what looked like some sort of agreement. So many pages and I had no idea what they all meant.
Ben pointed. “There’s a letter. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” I passed it over so he could read it.
“‘Dear Ms. Blume, We trust this letter finds you well on your way to recovery. Due to your heroic efforts to save a man and his theater, and the cooperation of the financial institution in question, we’ve spoken with Mr. Griffin and come to an agreement.’”
“The financial institution?” I asked, giving Ben a confused look. “What agreement?”
He scanned the rest of the letter and then flipped through the pages when I passed them over. “I talked to the partners and explained the situation. That’s part of the reason I was late when I was supposed to meet you at the theater. They let me know they’d speak with the bank to come to an arrangement with the foreclosure—I figured they were going to try to stall until we came up with a new plan. But…” He read something else and then his eyes widened. “Libby.”
“What?” I walked over to look at the page he was looking at.
He smiled at me. “Mr. Griffin said he was ready to retire. He said he wanted to give the property to you and he’d do whatever he could to make that happen since you saved his life. So the partners purchased the property from him—for a decent amount, too—and they want to open a charity for kids in the arts. They want you involved.”
“But…” I shook my head. “Me? I don’t understand…”
“If you’re willing to help them with the charity, which looks like it’s similar to what you’re doing at the community center—except now you’ll have a stage and a whole building for it—they’ll gift you the theater.”
My stomach twisted with amazement. “Wait—what? Like…give it to me?”
“Yes. Libby…” He put his arm around me as I tried to take in what he was saying. “This is a good thing. And I’m not surprised. The partners love their charities. They make investments all the time, and this is a good one. It’s perfect for you, too. You get your theater.”
“But I have the money—or some money—and—”
“And now you can use it for renovations or…” He laughed. “Old movies or popcorn or whatever you want. Libby, they’re giving you the theater.”
“No.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “Yes.” He held up the stack of papers. “That’s what this is—if you agree to it.”
“All if have to do is help with the charity?”
“Yes. I mean, I’ll go over everything again, of course, and we can speak with them, but basically yes.”
“Ben…” My eyes filled, wonder racing through me. “You did this?”
He touched my cheek, tenderness filling his gaze. “Not just me. Melanie helped and the partners, of course. I mean, if you couldn’t tell, they’re halfway in love with you. Everyone wanted to help.”
I swallowed the emotion, but it kept bubbling up anyway. “Ben…” I whispered. “This is amazing. Do you think I should do it?”
His smile was so happy and tender, I nearly melted at his feet. “Yes, I do. I think it will be perfect. Thank you for asking.”
“It’s you and me, right? We’re in this together.”
“We are.” He kissed me hard, tongue invading my mouth. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too. We should celebrate,” I suggested.
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
“A shower,” I said, raising my eyebrows.
He laughed and kissed my cheek. “Libby, your mind is in the gutter.”
“I know.”
He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “We can take a walk. Or go visit Mr. Griffin.”
If possible, my heart grew even bigger for him. “Yes. That’s perfect. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He kissed my hand again. “It’s us, together forever. And it’s a perfect day to start.”
“It is,” I agreed, and then pulled him in for another kiss, ready to start forever.
If you haven’t had a chance to read another Fake It novel, turn the page for a sneak peek at THE PROPOSAL.
I wasn’t supposed to be dumped weeks before my wedding day. Not only have I lost my dream come true, but I’m also massively in debt because of all my wedding purchases. So what’s a girl to do?
Easy. Sell the wedding. I put my dress, the venue, even the damned centerpieces up for sale. How was I to know the man who’d come to possibly purchase them was also looking for a bride?
But I need the money, and maybe…maybe I need a little adventure in my life, too. Instead of playing it safe, maybe this billionaire is the key to turning my life around.
I thought I was getting a fiancé and enough money to get me back on my feet, but I didn’t realize I might also be falling in love.
1
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I say, glaring at my friend.
Deb only smiles gently. “It’s getting your mind off of Chet, right?”
She’s right. It is getting my mind off of Chet. Maybe not entirely mending my heart, but it’s a start. After all, Chet’s an asshole, so anything I can do to move on and to get my money back, will help.
At least I hope so.
“All right.” I hold my fingers over the keyboard. “What am I supposed to write?”
Deb checks her list. “Everything on here. Everything you can sell—even the venue.”
“The venue? Seriously?�
��
She nods. “Seriously. If you can find someone who’s been waiting for this place forever, maybe you can make a deal. Maybe they’ll want to push their wedding up. It’s a long shot, I know, but they’re not going to refund your deposit on the place.”
No, they aren’t. The wedding is supposed to be in three weeks, and we were nearing the end of plan-making. Meaning, we had already booked the venue a long time ago, hired the caterer, paid for the flowers and on and on. Oh, and the dress…
That had been the best part. My dream dress.
And now, I don’t even want to wear it. It reminds me too much of Chet. Chet the liar. Chet the cheater. Chet the asshole who had made me fall in love with him even though my friends had warned me he was just a player.
How was I supposed to see that when I was drowning in love?
Had he even given any indication of these things? I’m afraid to ask Deb. She’ll probably say yes. She’ll probably say there were signs, signs, and more signs. And then I’ll feel like a complete fool—worse than I already do.
Deb is just too kind to say, I told you so.
“What about the engagement ring?” I ask.
Deb runs a hand through her hair. “What do you think?”
“Pawn it.”
Deb laughs. “That’s the spirit. Get Chet out of your life completely. I know it’s hard and he’s a total dick for doing this to you, but the faster you get all memory of him out of your life, the less he can hurt you.”
She’s right again. My heart will take time to mend, but it’ll be easier when I don’t have reminders of him everywhere. And when I figure out how in the world I’m going to get back on my feet financially.
That alone makes sadness turn into anger. Fuck Chet. He was supposed to pay for half the wedding when he got his first bonus at work. He was supposed to help pay for rent, too. To make up for all the money I’d lost the last several months trying to secure our future.
My fingers start moving, and I list all the items written on Deb’s notebook. I set up the rest of the ad and blow out a breath before pressing SUBMIT.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Now, we print out flyers and put them up everywhere we can think of,” she says, gesturing to the computer. “Trust me. Someone’s bound to see them. And if that gets you even $100 back then that’s helpful, right?”
“Right,” I grumble, though I’m sick of her being right.
Rent is due in two weeks and I’m barely getting any hours at work. It’s my fault. I told them I needed to cut down on hours to help plan the wedding, and they compensated by hiring new employees who are now getting all the hours I used to have.
Deb wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I promise after the flyers we’ll take a break. I’ll buy you a drink.”
I sniffle a little, though mostly I’m just playing it up to get her sympathy. Mostly. “Two drinks.”
She laughs and nods. “Two drinks. Big ones. And we’ll eyeball all the hotties in the bar just to make ourselves feel better.”
“I feel better already.”
I’m only partly lying. I do feel better. I’d let myself wallow for a few days, but now I’m over it. I need to be productive, and this is the best way to do it.
So I get back to work and try to think of this as business and nothing more.
###
We cover all our favorite spots, and spots we know get a lot of traffic. At the last place, a little dive bar we frequent because it’s just around the corner from my apartment, I point to the back of the building. “Last one.”
“I’ll grab a table,” Deb says.
I spot a few guys at the bar, watching me, and sway my hips a little just because I can. I’m not attached anymore, and though I don’t particularly want to pick up a guy in a bar—let alone one a week after being dumped by my fiancé—I’m single and I’m allowed to flaunt it.
In the hallway to the bathrooms, there’s a bulletin board covered with flyers for bands and apartments for rent. I spot an empty bottom corner to put up my sad flyer up with a thumbtack, hoping to lure prospective brides to buy my wedding experience. My dream.
A man comes out of the bathroom and bumps into me, knocking the paper loose and watching it flutter to the ground.
“Shit—my bad.” He bends to grab the flyer. “You okay?”
“Uh…” I blink up at him. He doesn’t look like he belongs here. Nice three-piece suit, shoes shiner and probably more expensive than my entire wedding. I can’t believe he just came out of that bathroom. Maybe he’s lost. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” He starts to pass over the flyer, then pauses and looks at it. “You’re selling a wedding experience?”
Yeah, so my wording isn’t the best. I was trying to make it sound enticing.
I pluck the flyer from his hand and tack it to the board. “Yes.”
His lips curve in a grin. “That’s one I haven’t seen before.”
Damn, he’s cute. And cocky. He’s totally laughing at me right now. Well, screw him. Chet’s probably laughing at me too, and I don’t need that in my life. Ever.
“You should probably get out more,” I say, then turn on my heel and sashay back to the booth.
The guys at the bar are openly staring now but I ignore them and slide into the booth with Deb. “Men,” I huff.
“Yeah, I see them ogling.”
“Not them—the asshole back by the bathrooms.”
Deb glances in that direction, trying to peer into the hallway. Then her eyes widen. “Holy hell. You mean, Mr. Business Suit—the guy practically oozing money from his pores?”
I wave off her assessment. “I need a drink.”
“He’s hot.”
“The assholes always are,” I say.
“Ain’t that the truth?”
Putting Chet and Mr. Money Bags out of my mind, I order a drink and take the night off from worrying.
2
I can’t say I’m not intrigued. A sexy, confident woman tacks an entire wedding to a board in a dive bar and then tries to put me in my place? I want to know more.
Too bad a bride doesn’t come with the wedding—then she’d probably have some takers. The idea hits me hard. A bride. A wedding already planned. It sounds like a quick answer to my problem.
I grab the flyer and stuff it in my pocket before walking to the table in the corner. Derek’s already there, looking as out of place as I do in his suit and tie. I can’t help but look for the woman as I walk, and find her at booth on the opposite side of the bar. She doesn’t see me, or maybe she doesn’t care to.
Derek gestures to the bar when I reach the table. “I ordered your drink. And really…I have no idea why you wanted to meet here. It’s…dirty.”
I chuckle. “Exactly. No one will find us here.”
“Who’s looking for you?”
“Everyone,” I say. “Especially the press.”
Derek grins. “That was your fuck-up. Now you have to deal with the consequences. Just tell them the truth and get on with your life.”
The truth? Shit. No one wants the truth. They want a fairy tale. They want to think I have the perfect woman, ready for the perfect wedding, and soon to follow, the perfect babies. And Derek is right, I fucked up. I alluded to a woman—one that doesn’t exist.
But my partners start in on me every day. They’re like my parents. When are you going to get married? Settle down? Have kids? You need someone to bring to our functions, someone to share this life with.
They’re all certain they know exactly what I need. And once I’d given the impression that I already had a woman, someone ran with it. Now the papers and magazines are running story after story. Who’s the mystery woman? Who has Michael Parsons been hiding? And the latest—and the worst: Who’s Michael Parsons’ fiancée?
I’m not sure how I’d gone from having a potential love interest to having a fiancée, but somehow I had.
Our drinks arrive and I down half of mine in one gulp.
“Eas
y,” Derek says. “Getting drunk isn’t going to solve the problem.”
“Neither is telling the truth.”
“Say you broke up. No one will ever know there wasn’t a woman.” Derek lifts his drink in salute. “Then you can go back to being a bachelor.”
“Even if that’s what I wanted, it wouldn’t fix the problem.”
Derek shakes his head. “There is no problem. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
Derek is forever seeing things in black and white. He’s my lawyer—a good friend, but still—I pay him to see things in black and white. But I also pay him to find loopholes and work things to my advantage. Right now, I have an idea about him working something to my advantage, but I’m not sure we’ve had enough to drink yet.
No…even with five more cocktails, Derek is still not going to think this is a good idea.
Derek gestures to the waitress for another drink.
I ask her to bring the intriguing woman and her friend a round of whatever they’re having, and Derek lifts his eyebrows. “Who is it?”
“Tall, honey blonde, and angry,” I say. I point to the booth on the other side of the bar, but doubt he can see much.
“So much for laying low.”
“I don’t think she has any idea who I am.” Not in this neighborhood. Not how she was dressed. She didn’t seem like a businesswoman.
“She looks hot.”
I nod in agreement. She is. All that wild hair, a flash of temper. I wonder whose wedding she’s trying to sell. Hers? I almost pull the flyer from my pocket, but decide against it. I’m not prone to snap decisions. I have to think about this.
In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my evening away from the press, away from prying eyes, and with a good view of a sexy woman.
###
The next morning, I wake to find the flyer on my end table like a reminder. A reminder that I don’t have a bride—I don’t even have a girlfriend—and I definitely don’t have a pending wedding.
I sit up and scrub my hands over my face. I press the button beside the bed to open the screen over the windows. Outside, the sky is a dramatic blue and buildings rise up around me.
