My eyes are closed when I manage to make it to my left side. I don’t feel as if I’m going to throw up or like the ground is trying to swallow me, so I let out a relieved breath and open my eyes.
My body jerks when I find Nick lying beside me, perched on one elbow, studying me. He’s shirtless and his broad chest is on display—along with all the muscles on said chest. My gaze can’t help but follow the treasure trail that starts under his belly button and leads to the edge of the sheet. God, am I dreaming?
That’s when everything that happened comes rushing back. City hall, me almost falling, Darius and Nick in some kind of weird tug-of-war over me, and Nick insisting I return to his place with him.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, sounding as if he might actually care about the answer.
“Better, thank you. Just really tired and groggy.” My throat is rough like sandpaper.
“I hear one of those attacks can really take it out of a person. Not to mention the drugs you’re on contribute to the fatigue.”
“Right. Thanks again for getting me a prescription.”
He shrugs. “Perks of being engaged to a doctor.”
That reminds me—he told Darius he was my fiancé. I don’t have to worry about Darius telling anyone—he’s trustworthy—but I am going to have to deal with that sooner rather than later. He’ll be wondering what the hell is going on.
I manage a small smile. I hate when people see me have an attack. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all this.”
“The only casualty was a navy blue Henley. Could’ve been worse.”
As mortification sets in, my cheeks feel as if someone just struck a match on them. I cover my face with my hands. “Oh my God, I threw up on you.”
“That you did. Though I suppose maybe I deserved it a little.”
I peek at him through my fingers.
“I was an asshole earlier today. We have an agreement and I plan on sticking to it. There’s no reason it has to be more miserable than it’s already going to be.”
My heart pinches, though his words should come as a relief to me, I suppose. But the fact that he thinks this whole thing will be miserable hurts. I give him the out he’s probably looking for. “It’s strange after all these years… we’ll get used to it.”
“Yup. And by then we’ll probably be getting divorced.” He rolls out of bed and I see for the first time that he isn’t naked. He’s wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms. “You hungry?”
I slowly sit up. I’m always hesitant to move after an attack, because very often I can still be a little dizzy, even if I’m no longer falling over. “What time is it?”
“Nearly ten p.m.”
My eyes widen. “Wow. I didn’t realize it was that late.”
“You conked out pretty good.”
“Yeah, that usually happens.” I force myself to look away from his bronzed chest.
“So, hungry?”
“I could eat, sure.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
I nod, and after he’s left, I move to the edge of the bed and gingerly step down, holding on to the edge in case I feel dizzy. After taking a few steps, I find I’m not one hundred percent, but I’m way better than before. I just have to move a little slower than normal. By morning, I should be fine.
I make my way to the bathroom, do my business, and wash my hands, and once I open the master bath door, I see Nick is already back with a tray of food.
“Careful,” he says as he watches me walk back to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better than earlier. A little dizzy still, but nothing I can’t deal with.”
He nods, then once I’m seated in bed, he comes around to my side to place the tray in front of me. On it is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a green apple cut in slices with a small bowl of peanut butter beside it. My heart stumbles over a few beats and I glance at him.
He shrugs. “Figured you probably still liked it.”
“I do,” I just about whisper.
When Nick and I were growing up, this was my favorite lunch. PB&J sandwiches were my favorite, and I’ve always loved dipping my apple slices in peanut butter. I used to have to beg our chef to let me have it for lunch on the weekends. The chef would usually let me as long as I promised not to tell my mom—my mother found it too juvenile. I can’t even remember the last time I had this though.
What means more than the pleasure of seeing my favorite comfort food when I’m not feeling well is the fact that Nick remembered. But I don’t think he’d appreciate the way my eyes are watering, so I put my head down and dip one of the apple slices in the bowl of peanut butter, scooping out a large amount.
“Mind if I turn on the TV?” Nick settles on his side, leaning back against the upholstered headboard.
I shake my head since I’m chewing and turn my attention to the screen. He turns on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix and I nearly choke on my apple.
“You watch Grey’s Anatomy?” I ask.
“Just so I can complain about how much they fuck up the medical shit.”
Oh. Yeah, that makes more sense.
“I see.” I pick up the sandwich and take a bite, moaning in pleasure when the mixture of fresh bread and peanut butter and strawberry jam hits my tongue. “This is so good.”
“I’ll give your compliments to the chef.” He doesn’t turn his attention away from the episode.
“I haven’t had one of these in forever.”
That must grab his attention because he turns the volume down on the TV and looks at me. “Why not? They’re not your favorite anymore?”
I swallow the bite I’m chewing. “No, they are. I guess I just… I don’t know. Just stopped eating them, I suppose.”
He looks at me for a few beats then changes the subject. “How long have you had Meniere’s disease?”
I look at my plate. “Since I was twenty-nine. I tend to have an episode, then nothing at all for months and months.”
He nods. “Any hearing loss?”
I don’t know why I didn’t assume this medical questionnaire would be coming. The man is a doctor, after all. “None yet.” And hopefully never if I’m lucky.
“Any tinnitus?”
“Sometimes. Not too often. Is this going to turn into a full-on medical exam? Do you want me to change into a hospital gown?”
“Sorry, it’s the doctor in me.”
“No, it’s fine. Sorry.” I set down my sandwich and pick up a piece of apple, dipping it in the peanut butter. “You’ve been so great in helping me out today. Ask away.”
“Nah, that’s your business. Sorry if I was prying.”
“Can you pass me my purse?” I point toward the end of the bed where I see it. “I should call Darius to come get me after I’m done eating.”
Nick looks as if maybe he wants to say something but then changes his mind, leaning forward to reach the purse then passing it to me.
“Thanks.” I pull out my phone and see that Ava has messaged me a bunch of times. She’ll have to wait. After I type a message to Darius and receive a response that he’ll be here in under an hour, I put my phone back inside my purse and set it between the two of us.
Time passes, and we quietly watch Grey’s Anatomy, punctuated occasionally by the crunch of my apple. Eventually I set the tray away from me and stand beside the bed.
“Do you mind if I give these back to you on Friday?” I hold up the oversized T-shirt I have on.
“Sure thing. Speaking of Friday, when do you plan on moving some things in?” He climbs out of bed and walks over to pick up the tray.
I’d forgotten about that part. I don’t plan on taking much from my house—whatever clothes I want, some personal items, and that’s about it. I shouldn’t need much else. “I suppose I can bring it with me on Friday. I won’t have too much.”
“That works.”
I grab my purse and follow him out of the room.
&n
bsp; “Careful on the stairs. Make sure you hang on to the bannister.”
The doctor never quits.
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, he heads to the left toward what I see is the kitchen and I continue to the front door, where I slip on my heels.
“You look ridiculous,” he says, coming out of the kitchen. “You’d better hope no one snaps a picture of you when you get home. I’m sure the local gossip sites would love nothing more than to get a picture of Mazzy Pembrooke wearing a man’s T-shirt and athletic shorts and a pair of heels.”
“Don’t worry, once we’re married, I’ll be sure to keep my appearance up to your standard. Though I can’t say I’ll ever get the tits your nurse friend has.” The image of the woman he was making out with at the hospital comes to mind. Is that what he likes?
His gaze drops to my chest. While not small, it doesn’t have the surgically enhanced look the nurse has. “That’s all right. I prefer them natural anyway.”
Headlights shine in the window and pull my attention away from Nick, and I look through the side glass of the door to see that it’s Darius. “Well, thanks again for all your help today. I really do appreciate it.”
He nods, not saying anything, so I swing open the door and walk out onto the porch.
Only once I’m at the top of the stairs does he actually speak. “I’ll see you Friday.”
I turn and nod at him over my shoulder, then hold his gaze for a moment. There’s trepidation in his eyes. He’s not the only one. I mean, what could go wrong? I’m marrying my ex-best friend turned enemy. Easy peasy, right?
Fifteen
Mazzy
A soft knock lands on the door of Nick’s guest room, and I turn away from the mirror.
I arrived here early to get ready for the wedding ceremony. Really, I’ve been hiding, not wanting to see Nick because I’m afraid I’ll chicken out. In a lot of ways, this feels harder than if I were marrying a complete stranger. Nick and I have a lot of soap opera history—friendship, love, and betrayal. Once upon a time, I was a starry-eyed girl who imagined marrying the man waiting downstairs for me, but under very different circumstances.
The pre-nup I had Nick sign when I arrived sits in my bag. He barely even glanced at the words on the page when he signed it. One thing is for sure, he doesn’t want me for my money. Hell, he doesn’t really want me at all. That’s something I need to remember when he shows compassion like he did the other day.
I had Harold draft up the papers at the last minute. Thank God for attorney-client privilege—he can’t tell my parents.
The knock sounds on the door again and I realize my thoughts have drifted off, which they’ve done a lot of this week.
“Come in,” I say, steeling myself for Nick to see me in my wedding dress for the first time. Fake wedding or not, I hope to make an impression. Call it vanity. Or maybe it’s insanity.
A beautiful woman with flowing, rich brown hair and eyes to match pokes her head in the door. Her smile is warm and genuine, and it instantly puts me at ease. “Hi, I’m Jemma, Ollie’s fiancée. Is it okay if I come in?”
“Of course, come in.” I wave her in.
She steps into the room and closes the door. “I didn’t want the first time I met you to be at the ceremony and I thought you might need help getting ready.”
“Thank you. I’m almost done, but I could use some help putting the veil on.”
“Absolutely.”
I grab the veil where I laid it on the bed and pass it to her. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I take myself in as a bride for a second time. My hand instantly falls to my stomach to calm the quivering nerves.
“You look beautiful. Nick is going to be drooling.”
“I hope so,” I say and realize it’s not a lie. “How is downstairs? I couldn’t believe when we woke up to rain.”
She straightens the veil into position. “It’s gorgeous. They moved everything from outside in. Plus, rain is considered good luck on your wedding day.”
I release a tension-filled breath and watch in the mirror as Jemma puts the veil in. I chose a fairly simple Ellie Saab dress that’s a champagne color at the top, but it lightens to ivory by the time the chiffon ribbon skirt reaches the floor. There’s a peak-a-boo slit up the front that shows off a lot of my left leg when I walk. I thought it was a nice mix of classy and sassy and not too over the top for a wedding at home.
Jemma pins my veil in my hair, which I put in a half updo with large waves. “Did you do your own hair and makeup?”
“I did, yes, does it look okay?” I lean closer to the mirror to see if I’ve smudged my mascara.
“It’s perfect, that’s why I asked. I’m jealous that you’re able to do yours so nicely. This is the extent of my talent in that department.” She points at her face, which yes, has minimal makeup on. But she has natural beauty that makeup would only hide.
“Well, I’ve had years of makeup and hair people working on me, so I picked up some tricks by osmosis.” I smile then realize that maybe that sounds a little superior. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that—”
“Stop. If I had the money, I’d have people doing my hair and makeup too. You don’t need to feel bad about it. Now tell me all about how you and Nick met. I know nothing! Ollie is like a vault and said I should ask you guys. It must be romantic if you’re getting married this quickly. I didn’t even know Nick was seeing anyone.”
“Well, we knew each other growing up and we almost got together once years ago, but some things happened and got in the way. We lost touch. So when we ran back into each other, it was like none of that had happened and it felt like all the stars aligned and the timing was right. Here we are.”
Jemma’s holding her stomach as if it’s going to float away and her eyes practically have hearts in them. Ugh. Will it feel this shitty every time I have to lie to someone about my marriage? To assuage my guilt, I picture all the people in that huge skyscraper downtown getting lay-off slips.
“That’s so romantic. I wish Ollie and I had a story like that, but I accidentally shot him the night we met.”
My eyes widen to the size of saucers. She laughs then launches into the story of how she and her fiancée met, which is hilarious. Listening to her eases some of my nerves and I have a feeling that that may have been her plan all along. By the time we should go downstairs, I’m much more relaxed.
The officiant and the photographer should both be here by now. I don’t need a crazy number of pictures to preserve the memory of today, but I do need something to give to the family’s publicist to send into the society page of the newspaper for our wedding announcement. Not so much for me, but for Nick’s image. I’d be more than okay with not advertising a second marriage for them to ultimately tout my failure once we’re divorced. But a deal is a deal.
“How did Nick seem?” I ask. Is he freaking out as much as I am right now?
“Really calm actually. Which is surprising. The whole unexpected rain that ruined the outside wedding, and well, this whole thing is… knowing him for a year, I thought he’d be a forever bachelor. Who knew true love was just around the corner for him?” Jemma grins and squeezes my hands.
“Wow. Yeah, I’d have thought he’d be nervous too. We should head down there, I suppose.”
“Yay!” She claps as if this is the most exciting thing she’s been a part of. I can’t help but smile at her. “Do you have a bouquet?”
I nod. “In that white box on the bed.”
She opens the box and pulls out the simple ivory and champagne blooms that match my dress. Although Darius is protesting this whole marriage, he was nice enough to pick up the flowers for me before he dropped me off. I had to fill him in on the nuptials after the episode at city hall earlier this week—he knew something was up.
So now he thinks I’ve lost my damn mind.
Jemma hands me my bouquet and my stomach does a cartwheel when my hands wrap around the stems. I wasn’t this nervous during my first wedding, but then,
a part of me knew all along that marriage wouldn’t be forever. The man I thought I’d spend forever with is downstairs.
Suddenly this whole fake marriage feels too real, yet I know it’s not. That fact makes it hard to get any air into my lungs. My hand goes to my chest and I try to take big gulps of air, but it only feels as though my chest is closing.
“Are you okay?” Jemma says, eyes wide with alarm. She squeezes my upper arm for a moment.
My arms feel numb and I bend over at the waist, my bouquet dropping to the floor. Jemma yells for Ollie, and the next thing I know, a soothing male voice is coaxing me to sit on the edge of the bed and lean forward to take slow, deep breaths. I concentrate on the sound of his voice and do what he says. Eventually my heart stops racing and my breaths become more controlled, enabling me to sit up.
“How are you feeling?” His brow is furrowed as he looks intently at me.
It’s been a decade since I’ve seen him, but time has been kind to Ollie. He’s still as handsome as ever with his wavy, sandy-brown hair and sweet eyes.
“Hi, Ollie.”
He gives me a sad sort of smile. “Hey, Mazzy. Long time no see. Are you feeling better now? I think you may have had a panic attack. Have you ever had one before?”
“Just when my grandfather died and when I saw the pictures of my ex with his extracurriculars.” I give him a wane smile.
He nods. “High-stress situations can have that effect sometimes.”
I know what he’s getting at. Nick told me that Ollie is well aware this wedding is a farce, though he’s the only one, besides Nick and me, who knows.
“Right, well, I’m okay now. I just need a minute to clean up.” I wipe the tears from under my eyes and straighten my shoulders.
“Are you sure?” He dips his head so that he’s looking straight into my eyes.
I know what he’s really trying to do is give me an out. Ollie always was a good guy. But I won’t be taking the out. It’s bad enough that Nick saw me down and out the other day. This feels even more humiliating.
“I’m fine. Like I said, give me a few minutes and I’ll be good to go.” I stand and smooth my dress down the front.
Don't Mind If I Do : A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy Page 7
