My Ex's Wedding: A Fake Boyfriend Romance

by Annabelle Costa

  “She’s funny, right?” Doug says unnecessarily.

  I’m still working on catching my breath, so I just manage, “Yeah.” Laughter may be good for my soul, but it’s hell on my lungs.

  “Pretty too,” he muses.

  I look at him sharply. That was a strange comment coming from my brother. Doug is not the sort of guy who remarks on the appearances of random women. A lot of the other guys at Coleman did. Most of them, actually—myself included, if I’m being honest. But never Doug.

  “Anyway,” Nellie is saying onstage, “if anybody really does find out that guinea pig pee enhances your libido, let me know because I probably owe Wayne an apology.”

  Nellie Levy. The only girl I’ve ever met who’s willing to talk about drinking pee onstage in front of dozens of people.

  She puts down the microphone and the stage goes dark again. After that night four years ago, I found her after the show to thank her and also tell her how great she was. I’m not going to find her after this show. I’d like to tell her how much she made me laugh, but the encounter would just be awkward. I enjoyed her performance—better to leave it at that.

  Chapter 12

  Nellie

  Oh my God, it’s him.

  I recognize him instantly, the second I lay my eyes on his face. No wonder Doug’s gray eyes looked so familiar—they’re the same ones I saw staring back at me that day in the men’s room. The hot i-banker guy who wanted to propose to his girlfriend. His name was… shit, what was his name?

  Alex. That was it.

  I made it happen for him—I watched from the front of the room as he got down on one knee. His girlfriend, who was one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen in my life, actually cried. He slipped the ring on her finger, and kissed her like he meant it.

  And then after, the two of them found me. He told me thanks and hugged me. And all I could think about was how attracted I was to him, and how it wasn’t fair that a guy I was this drawn to was now betrothed to another. But, you know, there are other fish in the sea. Fish with the same name as my father who routinely drink guinea pig urine. Ugh.

  Besides a new hairstyle, not much has changed for me in the last four years. I’m still working clubs, mostly for free drinks, and waiting tables to pay the rent. But a lot has changed for Alex. Doug mentioned his brother was disabled, and as I walk into the direction of their table, I see he wasn’t exaggerating. At all.

  Alex is sitting in a wheelchair, but it’s not one of those sporty chairs the guys use in the Paralympics. It’s a motorized wheelchair that has a supportive headrest and armrests at either side, on which his hands are strapped down. He’s also got a strap across his waist and also one across his chest that partially obscures the Dartmouth emblem on his T-shirt. One thing I can say is he is very securely fastened to that chair. Even if a tornado blows through the club, he’s staying in that chair.

  When did this happen? What happened? When Doug said his brother was disabled, I assumed it was a lifelong sort of thing. But it’s clear something major happened to Alex between that night he got down on one knee and today.

  One thing hasn’t changed though: he’s still really handsome. He’s got thick brown hair that I desperately want to run my hands through, that almost chin cleft, and of course, those intense, gray eyes. His looks really do it for me. I’ve met objectively handsomer guys than him, but nobody who makes me feel all tingly just from gazing at him.

  “Nellie!” Doug calls out when he spots me. “Over here!”

  Alex’s gray eyes lift when he sees me. He recognizes me. And not in a good way. His face fills with panic, and he looks like he wants to make a run for it.

  But Doug doesn’t get it. He’s smiling and looking up at me in that friendly way of his. I’ve been here less than a minute and I’ve already figured out the dynamic between the two brothers.

  “Come join us,” Doug tells me.

  Alex is staring at me, his mouth hanging open. I’m still trying to figure out what happened to him or what his disability is, because Doug was sketchy on the details. He’s still got his looks, but I’m beginning to wonder if he’s able to speak. Does he have one of those traumatic brain injuries I keep hearing about on the news? I see what looks like a smartphone mounted to one of the wheelchair armrests, and I wonder if he has to use a device to help him communicate. Like, does he have one of those Stephen Hawking robot voices? (RIP, Dr. Hawking.)

  “Doug, what the hell?” Alex bursts out.

  Well, I guess he can speak.

  “This is Nellie,” Doug says to his brother. I’m still standing awkwardly in front of them. “She was just performing.” He adds unnecessarily, “On the stage.”

  “Hello,” I say. And even though I can very plainly see his hands are strapped down to the armrests, I hold out my hand to shake. Alex barely has a second to glare at me like I’m the world’s biggest moron before I retract my hand.

  He doesn’t even say “hello” to me. What kind of rude asshole doesn’t even say “hello”? Instead, he ignores me entirely, barking at Doug, “What’s this about?”

  “Nellie, why don’t you have a seat?” Doug says to me.

  I slide into the empty chair at their table, but there’s a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Alex doesn’t have a clue what’s going on or that Doug has acquired my services. And I get the feeling he’s not going to be excited about it.

  “Doug…” Alex says again.

  “Nellie, this is my brother, Alex,” Doug says.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, playing dumb about the fact that I recognized him immediately.

  “Nice to meet you,” he mumbles. He puts his lips on what appears to be a straw snaking around from the back of his chair, and the chair suddenly tilts forward slightly so he’s sitting up straight. “Doug, will you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  Doug grins proudly. “Nellie’s going to be your date for Isabelle’s wedding.”

  Alex’s gray eyes go from panicked to furious. Yeah, he definitely did not know what his brother was planning. “Are you kidding me?” he snaps.

  Doug looks confused, like a dog who can’t understand why his owner is angry that he peed in his shoes. “But… you told me Isabelle thought you had a girlfriend so…”

  “So you hired me some chick to pretend to like me?” Alex snaps.

  Doug flinches. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Alex looks me over, his gaze cold and calculating. “What did my brother offer to pay you?”

  If I tell him the truth, I have a feeling it’s just going to make things worse. “That’s between him and me,” I say.

  If he could do it, I’m sure Alex’s hands would be clenched into fists right now. Instead, he just clenches his teeth. “What. Is. My. Brother. Paying. You.”

  “Two-thousand dollars,” Doug says.

  If this were a movie, I would have been dramatically yelling out, “Noooo!!!!!!” Doug should not have told him that. I knew it would be a mistake, and it’s confirmed when Alex’s face goes white.

  “Two thousand dollars?” he repeats. “You’re paying her two-thousand bucks just to hang out with me for a few hours? Or does she have to fuck me too?”

  I’ve been trying to cut the guy a little slack because he’s obviously been through the ringer, but at this point, I’ve had enough. If he had a drink, I’d be tempted to pour it over his head right now. Anyway, nobody treats me this way.

  “I’m not a hooker,” I snap at him.

  Alex regards me coldly. “Aren’t you?”

  “Listen, buster…”

  Before I can tell Alex where he can shove it, Doug holds up his hands. I have already had enough of this situation, but at the same time, I need the money. So I keep my mouth shut.

  “Alex, quit being a dick,” Doug says. “Nellie’s not a hooker. She’ll play the part of your girlfriend, but there’s no sex. No kissing either.”

  “No kissing,” he repeats. “Yeah, I can see why you
wouldn’t want to do that.”

  I take a calming breath. Storming out of here won’t help me pay my rent. I’ve got to behave. This is a good exercise in self-control.

  “I’m paying her two-thousand dollars because she’s got to come to Vegas with us,” Doug says calmly. I imagine him being the peacekeeper in his family. “She’s going to help out when I’m not around in addition to coming to the wedding.”

  “Help?” Alex looks me over skeptically. “I’ve got you, Doug. Why do we need her?”

  “Because I’ve got a conference all day on Friday and most of Saturday, dumbass.” Doug shakes his head. “What are you going to do while I’m gone?”

  “I’ll just stay by myself in the room,” he huffs.

  “The whole day?”

  “What’s the big deal? Is the hotel room not baby-proofed?”

  “Alex…”

  Alex glances at me, like he really doesn’t want me to be here for this conversation. “I’ll have the TV. I’ll have my phone, and we can bring my laptop. I’ll be fine, Doug.”

  “What about lunch?”

  Alex opens his mouth for a moment, then shuts it quick. I glance down at his hands lying still in those armrests and suddenly I get it. He can’t feed himself. That will be one of my duties if I come with them—one Doug didn’t manage to mention to me.

  Then Alex notices me looking at his hands. He shoots me a look that is almost physically painful.

  “I’ll skip lunch,” he finally says.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Doug says. “If Nellie comes, you guys can go out and enjoy the day together. You can have fun instead of sulking in the hotel room.” He grins. “And when you run into Isabelle, you can have a pretty girl on your arm and make her jealous.”

  “Somehow I don’t think she’s going to be too jealous,” Alex mutters.

  “You’d be surprised…”

  “I doubt it.” Alex turns his gray eyes on me. Damn, he’s fine. I’m sorry I instituted that no kissing rule. If I knew this guy was the brother, I never would have said that. “I’m sorry, Nellie, but it turns out we don’t need you. Doug will give you a hundred bucks for your troubles.”

  Damn. One hundred bucks isn’t going to do it.

  “Alex, be reasonable…”

  “No. I don’t want her. No way. Comprende?”

  I look at Doug—the nice guy in the family. I can’t believe this guy is an i-banker. If anyone needs to grow a spine, it’s Doug Warner. It looks like this is all going to come down to me.

  “I don’t get it, Doug,” I say, purposely rotating my body so I’m not looking at Alex at all. “You’re the one paying for this trip, you’re doing all the ‘’heavy lifting,’ so to speak. You’re helping him with everything. And somehow, he gets to decide who’s going with you?”

  “Uh…” Doug looks between the two of us. “Well…”

  “Maybe it’s none of my business, but it seems like it should be your decision,” I point out.

  “It is none of your business,” Alex practically spits at me. I glance over at him—it’s amusing the way his face is turning purple.

  “I mean, it’s nice of you to take him in the first place,” I go on. “But it seems like forcing you to be responsible for everything for five straight days is a bit much to demand.”

  Doug is thinking about what I have to say. I can see it in his face, and so can Alex.

  “Doug, this is horseshit,” Alex says, although his voice has taken on a pleading tone.

  “No, Nellie is right,” Doug says quietly. “I thought this trip was a bad idea and you didn’t listen. But I’m not leaving you all alone in a hotel room for two entire days. If Nellie doesn’t go, you’re not going with me.”

  Alex sucks in a sharp breath. “Are you serious?”

  Doug nods. “I’m serious. You want to go on this misguided trip, you’re going to have to ask Mom to take you.”

  I realize at this moment, I have made an enemy of Alex Warner. He is absolutely furious at me. He glares at me with venom in his eyes. “Boy, you must really need two-thousand bucks. What—you owe money to the mob?”

  I meet his eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

  We stare at each other. Damn, this guy doesn’t like to back down, even when he’s got himself cornered. For a good minute, he holds my gaze. Then he tears his gray eyes away and looks at his brother.

  “Fine,” Alex says. “She can come.” He looks back at me. “I hope you’re better at being a fake girlfriend than you are at being a real girlfriend, judging from your act.”

  Ouch.

  Although he’s right.

  “Be nice, Alex,” Doug says.

  He smiles crookedly. “I’m always nice.”

  Chapter 13

  Alex

  I’m going to kill my brother.

  No, I’m not really. I’m not physically capable of killing him. If I wanted to do it, I’d have to hire someone and that would leave a paper trail that would send me to prison, and also, I love my brother and don’t actually want to kill him. But at this moment, I’m really, really angry with him.

  I look across the table at Nellie Levy, the comedian who is also in desperate need of cash. I guess the comedy biz doesn’t pay very well. Up close, she’s even more attractive than she was onstage. She’s got a really cute face, but those tits are just outright spectacular. She was sexy with the partially shaved pixie cut, but she’s even sexier with the black bob and the red streak.

  Four years ago, Nellie was trying to give me her phone number. She wanted to go out with me. Five minutes after meeting me, without even having to try, she wanted to hook up with me.

  Now she requires two-thousand dollars to pretend to be my girlfriend. And even for that exorbitant sum, she doesn't want to have any actual physical contact with me. Way to make me feel like shit about myself.

  She doesn’t recognize me—that much is obvious. And why would she? When most people look at me, they see the chair first. It’s the most memorable thing about me. When I hear people describe me these days, they always mention the wheelchair and nothing else. That guy over there in the wheelchair. All she knows is she never met a guy before in a big sip and puff powerchair before, so she must not know me.

  I don’t want Nellie on this trip. I don’t want an attractive girl pretending to like me. All it will remind me of is that I’m not capable of attracting any actual women anymore.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” Doug tells us. He flashes that placating Doug-smile of his. “Why don’t you two get to know each other?”

  Fucking brilliant idea.

  Doug leaves us alone together. At this point, some people might attempt to make awkward conversation, but Nellie doesn’t bother. She gets out her phone and starts messing with it. I’d bet good odds she’s telling one of her friends about me.

  “You can go,” I tell her. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

  “Doug said to stay,” she says without looking up from her phone. She’s wearing a lot of black eye makeup, although less than she was four years ago. Back then, it was almost too much, but now she’s got her proportions right. “He’s the boss.”

  “No, I’m the boss.”

  “Well, he’s the one paying me.” Nellie glances up and flashes me a smile that shows off her crooked incisor. Most kids would have been sent to the orthodontist for something like that, but it suits her. “So I’d say he’s the boss.”

  “This is a dumb idea,” I say one last time for good measure.

  “Yes, I agree.” She nods, her eyes back on her phone. “Going to your ex-girlfriend’s wedding does seem like a dumb idea. But since you seem to have your mind set on it, you should at least come with reinforcements.”

  Before I have another chance to tell her to shove it, our waitress shows up with the curly fries Doug ordered. She plops the basket of orange fries peppered with little black specks down between us. I only had a light dinner before Doug took me out, and the fries look really good. Ag
ainst my will, my mouth starts to water.

  Nellie snatches a fry from the basket and pops it her mouth. “This place has the best curly fries.”

  “Who said you could take one?”

  She grins at me. “I decided to help myself.”

  I can see her eyeing my hands, lying in the armrest, Velcro strapped over them. It couldn’t be more obvious I’m unable to use them. I hate it when people stare at my arms like that. If I had any amount of movement in my upper arms, I could still feed myself, but I don’t and I can’t. My arms are purely decorative.

  She poises her hand over the basket, arching an eyebrow at me. “Do you want a fry?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You sure?”

  I want a fry so badly I can taste it, but after the way Nellie just bulldozed me into coming on this trip, I’m not going to let her feed me. No fucking way. “Very sure.”

  She shrugs. “Your loss.”

  I’d give anything to be able to feed myself again. The therapists at rehab knew how important it was to me, so they did everything they could to help me get there. At one point, my occupational therapist Jon hooked up an electrical stimulation device called Bioness to my arm to make my biceps contract. Jon helped me spear a piece of meat with a fork attached to a splint on my hand, then he used the Bioness to stimulate my biceps so that my elbow bent, bringing my hand toward my face. The stimulation got me about eighty percent of the way there, then Jon had to guide my fork the rest of my way to my mouth.

  My mom was watching, and she applauded when I did it, and I grinned and felt proud of myself. But ultimately, it was worthless. What good did it do me to bend my arm a little bit when I couldn’t spear the food or put it in my mouth? It wasn’t practical—that’s what Jon told me when we moved on to other more useful stuff, like teaching my family to dress and bathe me. When I got discharged from rehab, I was still dependent for eating, with the assumption that I always would be.

  In my lifetime, there might be robotic advances that could help me to eat at least semi-independently again. Like a computer chip implanted in my brain that could control a robotic arm that would feed me. So far, this technology isn’t a reality, but who knows? Maybe by the time I’m fifty, I’ll be able to feed myself again.