by Cat Carmine
“I’ll take care of the tux and everything, don’t worry about that. And you don’t really have to do anything, just stand up there at the ceremony with us.”
I finally grin. “I’d be honored, man. Really.”
Trent’s face finally relaxes and he grins back. “Good. That’s great, Jace.”
He grabs a couple of the beer bottles off the counter and I take the other two and we walk back outside together.
“You think Celia will mind if you’re in the wedding?” Trent asks.
Right. Celia.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I think she’ll be happy. As long as you don’t make her sit at a table with Aunt Evangeline.”
Trent shakes his head, laughing. “Don’t worry — you can both sit at the head table with us.”
For the first time, I feel a pang of guilt. Celia sitting at the head table — would they be so keen on including her if they knew the real nature of our relationship? And will we be able to fake it well enough to not raise any suspicions?
As the night wears on, I watch Trent and Hannah to see how they behave, hoping I can get some clues about how to act when Celia arrives. I take in the lingering glances, the way they can’t stop touching each other, even in the most innocuous moments. It’s clear that Trent is head over heels in love with the girl, and I can’t help but be happy for my brother.
I also can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever have that. I’ve never wanted for a woman to share my bed, but I’ve also never shared such a smoldering gaze over a passed bottle of ketchup or had the number of inside jokes these two seem to have. Those normal little moments that couples have. Trent and Hannah actually make it look almost like … fun.
I think of Celia, scheduled to arrive from New York City tomorrow. At least I know one thing for sure — it’ll be easy to fake it with her.
8
Celia
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I can hear the concern in Rori’s voice, but I just shrug casually.
“What’s the big deal?” I say, looking out the passenger side window as we head to the airport. “I pretend to be his fiancee for a week, get laid a bunch of times, enjoy some dry chicken and free champagne, and then come home happy.”
My best friend shakes her head. I had gratefully accepted when she’d offered to drive me to the airport — I should have known it was just a last ditch effort to convince me I was being crazy.
“I don’t know, Celia.” She shakes her head as she merges lanes. “You’re even wearing Martin’s ring. Isn’t that weird?”
I twist the big rock on my finger. It’s true that I sort of hate wearing the ring — it feels like bad juju or something. But I just shrug.
“It’s a prop.”
“You’re a prop. In some weird game he’s playing.” Rori shakes her head, her auburn hair cascading around her shoulders. “I thought you believed in love.”
I snort. “Is that even a serious question? Not anymore. Not since Martin. Now I believe in business transactions — after all, that’s all I was to him. Martin used me to get something he wanted. So why shouldn’t I get that too?”
“Oh, Celia. Martin was an asshole. Don’t give him more power over you than he deserves.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not giving him any power. He’s just opened my eyes to the true nature of relationships. They’re transactional. Give something, get something. At least I’m going to get some orgasms out of this engagement — which is more than I can say for the last one.”
Rori turns to look at me, taking her eyes off the road.
“This isn’t the Celia I know,” she says finally. “You used to believe in love. In happy endings.”
“Yeah, and look where that got me? So now I’m all about happy-for-now.”
“And are you? Happy for now?”
“I will be when I’m banging Jace The Bartender.” There’s no doubt of that in my mind, at least.
We’re saved from discussing it further when Rori pulls up in front of the departures entrance at JFK. She idles the car.
“Do you need help with your bags?”
“No, I’ve got it. Thanks for the ride.”
I grab my stuff out of the back and am just about to head in to the airport when I hear Rori call me back. I cross the platform and lean down to the driver’s side window.
“I’m sorry for being a bitch,” she says. “I wasn’t trying to be. I’m just not used to seeing you do crazy stuff like this. You know I just want you to be happy, right?”
“I know,” I say, softening. Rori and I have been friends since college, and I know she has my best interests at heart. “I just … this is something I want to do. And who knows, it could be fun.” I grin and thankfully, she smiles back.
“Yeah, you’re right, it could.”
“Take good care of Steve, okay?” I say, still smiling.
“I promise.”
But once I’m on the plane, I can’t help but think about Rori’s concern. Is she right? Am I being crazy? Doing this for Jace doesn’t mean I’m giving up on love, does it? It just means I’m doing a favor for a friend.
I twist the ring on my finger again. It’s too big and gaudy, and even when Martin had first given it to me, I’d felt slightly uncomfortable wearing it. It’s a beautiful ring — Martin had excellent taste that way — but it’s never really felt like me. This is an Upper West Side trophy wife kind of ring, and I’m just not that kind of girl. At least, I don’t think I am.
Yet here I am, wearing it again, using it as a prop in a sham engagement. Maybe Rori is right — what is Jace playing at? Why is it so important to him to lie to his family?
I get myself a glass of wine and try to push all those doubts out of my head. It’s only a week — a week of fucking and faking. I’ll get through it. And like I told Rori, maybe I’ll even have fun.
I picture Jace in my apartment, pressing me up against the window and slipping his hands down my shorts, fingering my cleft, and I squirm a little in my seat.
Oh yeah. I think it’s safe to say that at least some fun will be had on this trip.
When we arrive at O’Hare, I make my way through the airport, following the signs to the luggage claim. I’ve only been to Chicago once before, years ago, on a girls’ weekend. I’m hopeful that Jace and I will get a little time to see the sights.
I wait for my suitcase and find myself getting more and more anxious with every loop of the baggage carousel. I’m going to meet Jace’s family today, and I’m going to have to somehow convince them that I’m marrying their brother and son. God. I’m a lawyer, not an actress — what the hell was I thinking?
I finally spot my light grey suitcase swinging around and I grab it off the belt. Loaded down with that, my purse and my carry-on bag, I make my way into the arrivals lounge.
I look around for Jace, sure that it’ll be easy to spot his tall muscular frame in the crowd, but I don’t see him anywhere. I had texted him my flight information earlier this morning and he’d promised to be at the airport to pick me up, but now I don’t see him and my nerves are ratcheting up and I’m seriously considering just turning around and getting on the next plane back to New York.
And then I see him.
He’s a head above everyone else in the room, his massive shoulders cutting a swath through the crowd as he makes his way towards me. I try to smile but I feel suddenly frozen with fear and anxiety and a bone-deep sense of what the fuck am I doing.
“Hi.” Jace’s voice is deep and gravelly and I don’t even have time to answer him before he’s wrapping his arms around me and leaning me backwards, devouring me in the most intense and passionate kiss I’ve ever had in my life.
I let myself fall. His arms keep me braced, even when my legs give out. I let him kiss me, and I kiss him back, stroking his tongue with mine and feeling a throbbing pulse echoing between my legs.
All my doubts go flying out the window. Jace’s mouth, his body, feel as right as they did that fir
st night in my apartment.
After what seems like forever, his powerful arms finally set me upright again.
“Hi,” I finally breathe. He chuckles, and his blue eyes glint.
“Celia, I’d like you to meet my brother Luke. Luke, this is Celia. My fiancee.”
Another man steps forward, one who looks quite a bit like Jace but older, with brown eyes where Jace’s are blue. He reaches out a hand and I extend mine numbly to shake it.
I realize now that the kiss was all for show — I hadn’t realized his brother was coming to the airport with him, but of course Jace would want to put on a display for him. Show him just how in love we are.
I blink a couple of times and plaster a smile on my face. This is the agreement, after all.
“It’s so nice to finally meet the famous Luke Whittaker,” I say smoothly. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you now too,” he says with an easy grin. “Jace wouldn’t shut-up about you last night. Give the man one drink and it’s all Celia-this, Celia-that.”
I glance over at Jace, surprised. He grins sheepishly and I reach out and squeeze his hand.
“That’s my guy,” I say, as a strange flutter passes through me.
9
Jace
We all pile into Luke’s SUV. I let Celia take the front, next to Luke, and I sit in the middle of the backseat. I find myself unable to take my eyes off of her — as if somehow, in just a couple of days, I’d managed to forget just how beautiful she is.
“We’re having dinner at Luke’s tonight,” I tell her. “I hope that’s okay. We could go to the hotel first if you want?”
Celia glances back and forth between me and Luke. “No, that sounds great. Jace tells me you have a beautiful place.”
Luke raises his eyebrows and looks at me. Shit. He knows I had never been there before until last night.
“We talked last night. After I got back to the hotel. I told her all about the farmhouse.”
Luke shakes his head. “Stop. I don’t want to hear about your late night phone calls. I know how those go.”
Celia blushes. It’s the perfect reaction and Luke chuckles as he loops around the on-ramp to the highway.
“So, Celia — Jace talked about you a lot but he didn’t tell us much other than how great you are. And I think he mentioned that you’re a lawyer?”
She nods, seeming grateful for the change in subject.
“That’s right. Corporate law. Mostly contracts and stuff. All very boring.”
It occurs to me that that’s already more than I knew about her job before this moment.
“Are you from New York originally?”
“No, I grew up in Connecticut. We came into the city a lot to shop though, and I always knew I wanted to live there. So as soon as I graduated law school, I started looking for a job there.”
Luke is nodding. “It’s a great city. Trent and I are there occasionally for business. I can see why you wanted to live there. Where’d you go to school?”
“I did my undergrad at Yale. Then law school at Harvard.”
“Oh, no kidding! Trent and I went to Harvard too. Jace, you didn’t tell me Celia was an Ivy-leaguer.” He glances at me in the rearview mirror, grinning.
I feel a knot in my stomach. I hadn’t known Celia went to Harvard — but I also hadn’t known she came from such an upperclass background. Growing up in Connecticut, shopping trips to NYC, Ivy League law degree… she’s got it all.
Celia turns in her seat, so that she’s facing Luke. She glances back at me quickly. “Oh, Jace knows I hate bragging about that stuff.”
Luke chuckles. “Not me. I didn’t even graduate and I still brag about going to Harvard.”
“You didn’t graduate?”
“Nah. Trent did, but I was more interested in pursuing … other interests.”
Celia laughs. “I’m not even going to ask.”
Luke nods sagely. “Probably for the best.”
Luke guns the engine as he passes a silver sedan. When we’re settled back in the original lane again, he turns to Celia.
“Well, I have to say, it’s really nice to see Jace has finally given up the tattooed bar groupies and traded up.”
Celia flinches. Just a little. Luke doesn’t seem to notice but I do. Probably wondering why she let herself get saddled with a bad boy bartender — even in a fake engagement.
“Hey, speaking of bars — is MacLellan’s still open?” I ask Luke, changing the subject. MacLellan’s was a bar we used to frequent back in the day.
Luke shakes his head. “You should see the downtown. Nothing’s the same.”
I lean back and relax as Luke gets lost in a tangent about the changing demographic of the old neighborhood. Every once in a while I catch Celia’s eye in the rearview mirror, but I can never quite make out the expression on her face.
When we finally pull up to Luke’s place, Celia looks as impressed as I was.
“This is amazing,” she says, taking in the huge farmhouse with the wrap-around front porch, the sprawling grounds, and the huge renovated grain warehouse off to the side.
“Thanks,” Luke says. I hop out of the car in time to open Celia’s door for her, taking her by the hand and helping her out while Luke grabs her bag.
“No, seriously, this is like my dream house.”
Luke chuckles. “Thanks. Do you want a tour?”
“Absolutely!”
Celia leaves her hand tucked inside mine and I give it a squeeze, to let her know she’s doing great so far.
Luke walks us around the grounds, showing off the gardens and the gazebo in the back.
“This is where the ceremony is going to be,” he explains. “I think Mom said the flowers and the arch and everything are arriving tomorrow? I don’t know, she and Hannah have everything worked out. I just gave them a set of keys and told them to go to town.”
“That’s really nice of you,” Celia says. “To host the wedding here.”
Luke demures. “It’s the least I could do. Trent and I have always done everything together, so when Hannah mentioned they were having a hard time finding the perfect spot, I jumped at the chance to help. I’d do anything for them.”
I study his face, wondering if he’s making another dig at me, but there’s nothing malicious in his expression, and Celia is just nodding along.
“That’s really nice. It really is a perfect spot.”
“Come on,” Luke says. “I’ll show you where the magic happens.”
“The magic?” Celia looks confused.
Shit. I realize I never actually told her what Trent and Luke do for a living.
“Yeah, honey, you know I told you that Luke does all the designs and prototype builds for Loft & Barn.”
Her eyes widen and she swallows. I know she recognizes the name — every home in the country probably has at least one piece of furniture from Loft & Barn, and every woman probably has at least six things pinned to a Pinterest board somewhere.
To Celia’s credit, she doesn’t let the information faze her.
“Of course,” she says smoothly. “I just didn’t realize the magic happened right here at the house.”
Luke, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual, because he just grins and starts leading us to the warehouse.
“You should have told me your brother works for Loft & Barn,” she hisses, when Luke is an appropriate distance ahead of us. We’re still holding hands and I give hers a squeeze.
“He doesn’t just work for Loft & Barn. He is Loft & Barn. He and Trent started the company just after Trent finished up at Harvard. They run it together now — Trent handles the business side and Luke does the creative.”
“Holy shit.” Her eyes are as wide as saucers. I know she’s probably met lots of wealthy business owners in her life, especially working in corporate law, but people always have the same reaction to hearing about what Trent and Luke do. It’s fun and kind of surreal to meet the
owners of a company you actually know, that you’ve shopped at. She’s probably cataloguing all the furniture in her apartment right now, thinking about which pieces came from Loft & Barn.
I used to see this reaction all the time, until I stopped telling people what my brothers did. Because it’s always quickly followed up by the same question — asked out loud or not — which is: why am I working in a crappy little dive bar when my brothers own one of the most successful retail companies in the country?
It’s not a question I like discussing, and I especially don’t feel like discussing it with Celia, so I just squeeze her hand again and tug her along to the warehouse where Luke is waiting for us.
After the tour — through which Celia walks around with her mouth hanging open like a six-year-old at a carnival — I suggest we go back up to the house for some beverages.
Celia shakes her head, as if she’s coming out of a trance. “That would be nice. I’d like to freshen up a bit anyway.”
“Oh, sure,” Luke says. “Come on.”
We make our way back up to the house. Celia had let go of my hand at some point during our tour and even though I want to reach for it again, I don’t. Instead I shove my hands deep in my pockets.
“Are you guys hungry?” Luke asks, when we get to the house. “Magda, my housekeeper, left some sandwiches and things.”
“I’m starving,” Celia admits. I kick myself a little for not realizing she’d be hungry after her flight.
“Say no more,” Luke says, opening the fridge and busying himself with the food.
“Come on,” I tell Celia. “I’ll show you where you can freshen up.”
“Thanks,” she says gratefully. She grabs her carry-on bag and I lead her up the stairs to the bathroom. There are two powder rooms on the main floor, but the upstairs has a full guest bathroom, and I figure she might prefer that one, since it’s bigger and has a shower, if she’d like.
Plus I have something else in mind.
I walk her down the hall to the bathroom and she thanks me and steps inside. Before she can close the door behind her, I’ve crossed into the room with her. She gasps in surprise as I close the door. I don’t take my eyes off hers as I reach behind me and twist the lock.
