A crease forms between his brows. “What do you mean?” He takes a pull of his beer before setting it back on the table.
“You haven’t run in those circles in a long time, but everyone knows you, Nick. You returning is bound to cause a stir. Especially with the news that we’re married.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. But it would still be worse if the party were for us.”
“Agreed.” I spear a piece of red pepper with my fork and bring it to my mouth.
“Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy the endless parties and charitable events full of meaningless conversation with people who are just there for themselves and what it will do for their image?” His laugh tells me he can’t not see me living for the life my family name has afforded me.
“You might be surprised to know that I don’t. At least not anymore. At first it was fun to dress up and use my name to get important people to these functions to donate, but now…” I shrug.
“Now it’s no longer fulfilling?” His gaze locks with mine as though he’s sussing whether I’m sincere or not.
“No, it’s not.” I admit the truth out loud for the first time ever, and it feels momentous. Girls who were born into super rich families aren’t supposed to complain about it, and I’ve carried a lot of guilt for a lot of years over how I feel about my role in society.
Nick blinks a few times. He seems genuinely surprised. “So what do you want to do with your life?”
I shake my head with a rueful smile, looking at my plate to cut my chicken. “I should have been asking myself that question after I finished college. Not at thirty-four.”
He shrugs. “It’s never too late to make a change.”
I nod and keep eating. The truth is, I don’t know what I want for the rest of my life. Not beyond the fact that I want to be a mother someday.
“Maybe you should try different things. I mean, the fact is, after the six months are up, you’re going to be super rich. Might as well spend your time doing something you love since you don’t have to do it for the money.”
“Do you love medicine?”
He nods. I’m not surprised. From the time he was in high school, Nick wanted to be a doctor.
“Medicine seemed like a good way to practice altruism,” he says. “Everything I do at work, every decision I make, is for the benefit of someone else. Unlike the example my family set. I like helping people regardless of their station in life.”
“I want that.” I point across the table at him.
Nick tilts his head. “What?”
“That look in your eyes when you talk about medicine. They light up. I can see your passion for it.”
“Well then, get out there and find your passion.”
Maybe he has a point. I could use this time away from the city to really discover what I love. Who I could be if I didn’t worry about my image and how it affects the Pembrooke name.
“Thanks for the pep talk.” I stand from the table. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want another beer?”
He shakes his head. “I’m good.”
I head into the house, and I swear I feel his gaze on me the entire time, though I must be imagining it. I’m filling my glass with water from the fridge door when the doorbell rings. I wait a beat and don’t hear Nick coming in the house, so I head through the living room to answer the door.
But nothing could have prepared me for who stands on the doorstep. I suspect Nick will be even more surprised than me.
Twenty-Three
Nick
I’m taking the last pull of my beer when Mazzy rejoins me outside. She’s paler than she was a minute ago, and the look on her face raises the hair on the back of my neck.
“What’s wrong?” I set down my beer and sit up straight. “Are you not feeling well again?”
“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just… the doorbell rang when I was inside, so I answered the door.”
“Okay…”
“Your parents are here.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Here? Now?”
She nods frantically. “I asked them to wait in the living room. I said we were just finishing up dinner and then lied, saying the bugs were getting bad so we’d sit inside.”
I stand from the table and push a hand through my hair. I’ve been ignoring my mother’s calls and texts for a couple of days, but I didn’t think she’d come out here to the suburbs to get her word in. I wonder how the hell she convinced my dad to tag along.
“What should I do?” she whisper-shouts.
“Get ready to put on a convincing show.” I walk past Mazzy, snagging her hand as I do. Hopefully, the fact that her hand still fits perfectly in mine will help my parents believe this charade.
We walk into the living room hand in hand.
“Mom, Dad, I’m surprised to see you.” I drop Mazzy’s hand to kiss and hug my mother and shake my father’s hand—as is expected of me—with hopes it’ll turn off their radar that something is amiss.
“Well when you have to find out from the newspaper that your son got married, I’d say that warrants a visit.”
With my hands on my hips, I nod. “Fair enough. Why don’t you guys have a seat?”
My parents choose to sit on the chairs, which leaves Mazzy and me to sit on the couch opposite them. Mazzy sits first and I sit close to her to make this believable.
“Now why don’t you two explain what the hell is going on here?” my mom says, her head volleying between us.
“We got married,” I say.
“Are you pregnant, Mazzy?”
Mazzy’s eyes widen and she sputters for a minute before I save her.
“No one is pregnant. We’re just in good old-fashioned love.” I take her hand once again as if to prove my point. “We ran into each other, and since we both feel the same, we didn’t want to wait to make it official.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.
“Did you give any thought to how it might look for the two of you to run off without anyone knowing?” my dad asks.
It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen my father, and these are his first words to me.
“In fact, no. Because unlike you, I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
Mazzy squeezes my hand. I’m not sure if she’s trying to get me to back off or whether it’s a sign of encouragement.
“Well, that’s just like you. But perhaps your new bride cares,” Dad says. “She is still thought of highly in our circles, despite the downfall of her first marriage.”
Mazzy’s hand twitches in mine. My dad, the tactless bastard.
“What’s done is done. The question now is what are we going to do to turn this around?” my mom says, ever the practical one.
“There’s nothing to turn around. We’re married. It’s done. We’re going run off into the sunset.”
My mom’s hand lands on her chest. “What am I supposed to do when people ask us why you had a wedding without inviting anyone? Without your family?”
“I don’t really care what you say. Tell them your son is happily married. That should be enough. Then again, no one likes happy marriages, do they? What do you gossip about when people are happy?”
My dad slams his fist on the arm of the chair. “Jesus Christ, son. Do you care so little for us that you don’t even bat an eye when you’re upsetting your mother?”
“I’m sorry if you’re upset, but it’s not my job to make sure you’re happy. You certainly didn’t make it your job to make me happy.”
Dad rolls his eyes. This is the exact reason I avoid my father and my brother. This conversation is reminiscent of all my interactions with them. I see my mom from time to time because the two of us can usually find some common ground to last the length of a lunch.
“I don’t know many sons who wouldn’t be happy taking a major role in the family business. No one except you.”
And there it is. The crux of why we’re both so bitter. My father wanted me to take over his law practice, but I had no interest. Since I made
it clear when I was in high school that I was pursuing medicine—combined with the fact that I always bucked against all my father’s expectations—we’ve never been able to get along.
“I think most fathers wouldn’t be disappointed that their son wanted to be a doctor.”
We glare at each other until Mazzy speaks up.
“I had the chance to see Nick in his element at the hospital last week. You’d be very proud if you saw how many people he helps.” She looks at me with a smile I think might be genuine.
Whether it is or isn’t, I appreciate her having my back, something I hope I communicate when I return her smile and bring her knuckles to my lips again.
“I’m sure you’re wonderful at your job,” my mom concedes.
My father, however, says, “Good thing I had at least one son who could handle his responsibility to his family.”
My face heats with anger at the mention of my brother. “Yeah, what would you do without Keith to be your mini-me?”
“Enough.” My mother raises her hands. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We came here to find out why you wouldn’t tell us you were getting married.” I open my mouth to speak, but she raises her hand again. “And to welcome Mazzy into the Ryan family.”
They both look at Mazzy as though she’s got the golden ticket. Oh yes, I’m sure they’re thrilled their son has married a Pembrooke. My father would likely be fine with cutting me out of his life entirely, but now I’m of use to him. That’s why he came with my mother.
“Thank you.” Mazzy smiles at them and nods, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“We also wanted to invite you for dinner. Sort of a celebration of your marriage. Just the family. I can tell already you won’t be wanting a big event, Nick.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Mazzy says with the practiced polish of someone raised to say the right thing. “My calendar is pretty full these days and Nick’s on shift at the hospital a lot, but I’ll look into a date that might work and get back to you.”
“Perfect.” My mom stands and my father follows suit. “We’re going to get going. I’m sure you newlyweds have better things to do than this.”
I don’t bother looking at Mazzy to see if she’s as uncomfortable as I am with my mom’s innuendo. We both stand to see my parents out.
Mom glances around while she heads to the front door. “This is a lovely place you have here.”
“It’s very… homey,” my dad follows up with, but I ignore him.
Mazzy gives both my parents a hug and a kiss on the cheek goodbye while I just hug my mom and don’t even bother addressing my dad.
“I’ll be in touch,” Mazzy says. As soon as the door closes behind them, she turns and meets my gaze. “We’re not going for dinner there, don’t worry. I’ll come up with an excuse.”
I see what looks like pity in her eyes, which I hate. She understands the dynamic between my father and me better than anyone.
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
She nods. “I’m going to go take our plates in from outside.”
She moves to walk past me, but I grip her wrist in my hand, stopping her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For having my back with my parents. It won’t make any difference with how my dad sees me, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
“You’re welcome.”
I let her go and watch her make her way from the room. It feels like the beginning of a tenuous truce that doesn’t feel fake like our marriage.
Twenty-Four
Mazzy
The next morning, Nick agrees to take me with him to work out so I can join his gym. I’ve been running a couple times since I moved in, but I miss using the weights at the gym.
Nick’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs when I come bounding down. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
I glance down at myself. I’m wearing a black sports bra with matching leggings, gym bag slung over my shoulder with my sneakers, a drink, and a towel. “Um… what’s wrong with this?”
He blows out a long breath, shaking his head and pushing a hand through his hair. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
I follow him out of the house and into his vehicle. The gym ends up being less than a five-minute drive away. When we arrive, Nick leads me to the reception counter where a guy a little younger than us stands, giving us a big smile.
“Hey, Nick. How’s it going?”
“Good, Leo.”
They shake hands over the counter. Leo’s eyes rake over my body and I think I might know now why Nick had an issue with my outfit. “And who do we have here?”
“This is my wife.” Nick’s voice is to the point. “Mazzy, meet Leo. He runs things during the day here.”
“Hi, Leo.”
He blinks in surprise and looks between us. “I didn’t know you were married, man.”
“It’s recent.” Nick shifts his stance.
“Congratulations to you both. I’m assuming you’ll be joining us then, Mazzy?”
“Yes, I’m here to sign up.”
“Great. Let me find someone to cover the desk and we can go into the office to get all the paperwork filled out.”
“Sounds good.” I nod.
He heads into the gym, which I see through the glass wall behind him. Rather than go into the gym like I thought he would, Nick stays put with me.
“You can go start your workout if you want. You don’t need to stay with me.”
Nick turns to face me. “I’ll go with you.”
“It’s really no big deal—”
“I said I’d go with you. Leo hits on every woman who comes in this place. I’m surprised he still has a job.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m going to do anything.” Seriously? Is that what he thinks of me?
“Maz, I know that. But I don’t want you be in an uncomfortable position in a room alone with that man.”
Two things strike me. The first is that he referred to me as Maz. The second is that his protectiveness is kind of sweet.
“Oh, thank you.”
He nods, and we wait in silence until Leo returns.
Once all the paperwork is filled out, Nick and I go our separate ways in the gym—me going to the treadmill for twenty minutes of cardio and Nick heading to the rower. We end up at the free weights at the same time, so we lift side by side. My weights look puny compared to his.
“So did you give any more thought to what your passion might be?” Nick asks while doing a bicep curl.
I straighten up from my squat. “Not really. I’m not really sure where to start.”
“Why don’t you start by listing all the things you enjoy?” He grunts as he picks up a heavier weight.
I move into some pulsing squats and look at him. “Is this you offering to help me figure it out?”
I hope he’ll say yes. It reminds me of when we used to be so close, we shared all our hopes and dreams with one another.
“Sure. I can’t have my wife be some layabout. That doesn’t fly out here.” It’s clear from his tone that he’s joking, and when I look at him in the mirror, he’s grinning.
“Okay well, I like food. I like animals, working out, raising money for charity, reality TV, kids. I always enjoyed painting.”
He nods to indicate that he’s heard me but doesn’t say anything while he lifts his weights.
“I know. Not much to work with.” I frown and walk over to pick up a weight to work my arms.
“Sure, there is. I think you just need to explore these interests further.”
I shrug before I start my squat to shoulder presses. “Maybe. I mean, I don’t think it can be anything too involved because I want to continue my charity work. I do enjoy it. I just feel like I need something that’s just for me too.”
“Listen, I know I don’t like the lifestyle we were born into, but I don’t want you to think that I see your charity work as something you do for show. I know how much you care about helping
people.”
I stop moving, surprised to hear him say that. Shocked really. In our time together since we reconnected, I’ve only ever gotten the impression that he sees me as some spoiled little rich girl. And though that description isn’t exactly untrue, I’d like to think I’m not that stereotype.
“I appreciate that, Nick, thanks.”
He smiles and sets down his weights. “I’m going to do my cardio now. Will you be ready to go after that?”
“Sure thing.”
Maybe there is hope that Nick and I can find a new version of our friendship.
Twenty-Five
Nick
“Hey, man. Got a second?”
I turn around from the nurses’ station to find Ollie standing behind me. I’m a couple hours into my shift at the hospital. He must just be getting in for the day.
“Yeah, sure.” I nod for him to follow me down the hall where we’ll have more privacy.
“How’s married life?” he asks once we’re alone.
I think of having to endure watching Mazzy bend and stretch and sweat in what she deems gym wear for the past few days and the blue balls it’s giving me. “Easy peasy.”
He looks skeptical. “Really? You guys are getting along?”
I shrug. “Well enough. I’m trying not to be an asshole twenty-four seven.”
He chuckles. “How’s that working out?”
“You’d be surprised.”
He studies me for a moment. “Jemma asked if I could get Mazzy’s number from you. She and the girls are having wine night and wanted to invite her.”
I frown, thinking of Mazzy’s Meniere’s disease. But she’s a big girl, and if she says alcohol isn’t a factor for her, then so be it. “Yeah, sure, I’ll text it to you.”
“Great. And now that you’re being so cooperative, I won’t have to hold this over your head.”
I cross my arms. “What’s that?”
“Jemma talked to Marlowe and she can get you in next month’s issue of the magazine. You’re at the shelter next weekend, right?”
“That’s awesome, man. Thanks for making it happen. And yeah, I’m there next weekend.”
Don't Mind If I Do : A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy Page 11
