Before anyone can say anything, though, Karl comes in, clearing his throat. “Excuse me, but dinner is served.”
Oh, great. Now the fun starts.
* * *
Courtney is the first one to break the silence when we sit down around the dining room table, her face pinching when Ross takes my left hand, showing off the ring even more.
“But, Ross . . . Violet?” she asks in disbelief, her nose wrinkling like someone unleashed rotten eggs. “Isn’t this the same girl you held down against the grass and then farted in her face because she called you a big hulking ogre in front of your friends when you guys were in middle school?”
OMG, I think, almost choking on a piece of my salad, I’d almost forgotten about that!
Just remembering it brings the annoyance I felt with Ross during our youth, and without even thinking, I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow.
Not to be undone, he nudges me right back, except his is so powerful I almost fall out of my seat.
Luckily, no one notices.
“Courtney!” Mrs. Andrews—Kimberly, gotta remember to call her Kimberly—scolds. “Please, let’s not dredge up ancient history!”
Courtney doesn’t back down. “What, Mom? It’s true! I spent my entire childhood listening to Abi and Ross fighting like cats and dogs, and more often than not, it was over how Ross treated Violet. I really don’t see how this could happen. I mean, seriously?”
“I guess opposites attract,” I say as I pinch Ross’s thigh underneath the table while maintaining a fraudulent smile. “And when we looked at each other with fresh eyes, we realized that there was something there the whole time.” I look at him lovingly, which is somewhere between easy and hard. Too easy to be real, too hard to be fake.
“All of my antics were apparently because I wanted her so badly,” Ross adds, grinning at me in a picture of happiness. In contrast, his returning pinch is so sharp I nearly gasp out loud.
Courtney scowls. “You must really love the smell of his farts then.”
“Courtney!” Kimberly scolds again. “No more, please!”
“It’s fine, Mom. Court . . . it’s like that old cartoon I saw on TV when we were kids,” Ross says, turning to her with a placating plea on his face. “It was an old Looney Tunes, I think. But in it, there was this bear.”
“Oh, great, a love story with a bear,” Courtney groans, but Ross chuckles and looks at me in such a way that I’m suddenly enraptured by him again. He’s damn near magnetic when he wants to be.
“Yeah, so there’s a bear who was raised in the circus. And one day, the bear gets released into the wild, I forget how. But he meets this girl bear, and at first, he tries to be nice to her. The girl bear ignores him for a few days, but he doesn’t give up.”
“I bet,” Abi says sarcastically, one eyebrow lifting up her forehead. “So, what happened?”
“Well, the boy bear approaches the girl bear with a bouquet of flowers like he saw the humans at the circus do,” Ross continues, “but the girl bear hauls off and just smacks him across the face, sending him flying backward.”
Courtney shrugs. “And?”
“So, the boy bear tries again,” Ross says, still looking at me, “and again he gets smacked. The boy bear thinks the girl hates him, so he goes off to sulk . . . and one of the other animals fills him in on the deal. In the wild, bears would smack each other when they like each other! So the boy bear, realizing the truth, runs over to the girl bear, and when she smacks him, he hauls off and smacks her right back. Boom! Happily ever after.”
“So, you’ve been flirting all this time? How stupid are you, brother bear?” Courtney asks, but if she’s teasing him, she must be at least starting to believe us.
It’s my turn to nod, looking over at Ross’s eyes a little dreamily. Is he serious? He’s explaining us using bears and flowers and the circus? “Stupid enough,” I quip. The barb doesn’t seem as funny as it would’ve just a few short days ago, though.
“This is ridiculous,” Morgan says, his voice tight with anger. “What are you trying to pull, Ross? And how did he get you tied up in his mess, Violet?”
“Morgan!” Kimberly says, but apparently, nobody is listening to her admonishments about the rules as Morgan continues.
“No, Kimberly,” he says, making the barest effort to soothe her before turning back to Ross. “How can you two be engaged when just a few days ago, she was set to marry Radcliffe and you were splashed all over the papers with Joeden Snow’s wife?”
“Because things change, Dad. Isn’t that what you wanted? Me to grow up and settle down? Well, I am. With Violet.” He gives my hand a little squeeze that reminds of the band on my finger. “As for Colin, he didn’t see what was right in front of him, and I’m damned lucky he didn’t. I was near blind myself. It took me so long, and I’m going to make up for that lost time.”
Morgan’s about to reply when Kimberly reaches out, putting her hand on her husband’s forearm. “Morgan . . . please, let’s enjoy dinner?”
He glares at Ross for a moment, then shakes his head in obvious disbelief and confusion. “This isn’t over.”
Ross glances at me, but I don’t need to reply to feel the burning ember in my chest. “Dad . . . it’s like I just said,” he finally replies, making one more attempt. His voice is softer, more vulnerable than at any point in our conversation. “The fact of the matter is, we’ve always been in love. We just were too caught up in our heads to admit it.”
My heart skips a beat at the seeming sincerity in Ross’s eyes. He looks a hundred percent genuine, and I have to keep repeating a mantra in my head.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.
It only partially works because Ross’s fingers are woven through mine as he fidgets with my ring.
“Yeah, right,” Courtney hisses, looking down at her plate as Karl and the caterers bring out platters of beef Wellington and vegetables. “I’m with Dad. You can’t be in love, either of you. Violet was just engaged to someone else, and now she’s marrying Ross. It doesn’t work like that, just turning it on and off like a faucet.”
Ross, who looked so genuine and heartfelt just a moment ago, shrugs and snaps at Courtney. “Oh, and you know so much about love? Remind me, how many serious relationships have you had?”
That seems to be a sore spot because she shuts right up, though she’s eyeing Ross with fury and hurt. I tell myself to ask Abi what that’s all about later.
“And you’re such an expert?” she fires back.
“One, that’s how many. One serious relationship, and she’s sitting right here next to me,” Ross tells Courtney.
Morgan stabs at his beef with his fork so hard that I’m surprised he doesn’t put the silverware through the china. “This is just such a surprise.” Morgan is trying to backtrack, but only slightly, still keeping everything on his terms.
“You’d better get used to it fast,” Ross says, raising his voice for the first time and taking over the room, “because the wedding’s in two weeks.”
Everyone stops in shock, except Abigail, who still looks like the cat who got the cream. She’s loving this, for some reason. The whole damn thing.
“Is this your way of testing us, Ross?” Kimberly asks, her voice half choked with emotion. My heart aches for her, and I realize that regardless of why we’re doing this for Ross, it’s going to play with people’s emotions.
We’re going to have to tightrope this as carefully as we do with my own family to avoid hurt feelings on both sides.
Ross turns on his mom, his eyes wide. “You know what Dad said to me?” She nods, though it looks like it’s painful. “Testing you? I think it’s the two of you testing me! Well, never fear, you got your way. I’m just lucky that it’s with someone I love, Violet, because this could’ve backfired on us all, Mom.”
I can sense that Ross is even more hurt that his mother knew about his Dad’s ultimatum than he was about his Dad’s part in the whole argument. They’ve alw
ays been such a tight family, one I envied, so seeing them at odds this way is setting me on edge.
“Enough,” Morgan growls, his eyes blazing. “Fine, Ross, you’re engaged. Congratulations, Violet. Or condolences. I’m not sure which.”
“Morgan,” Kimberly says, trying to soothe her husband. “Give them a chance.”
Morgan growls, getting up. “Excuse me. I’ll take my dinner in my study.”
Morgan disappears, and a tense, ugly silence drops over the remaining five of us. I look at Ross, who sighs and gives me a supportive pat on my thigh.
“Well, that could’ve gone better,” he says dryly.
How the hell are we supposed to make this work? And we still have my family to tell. The folks flying in I’m not worried about, but Papa, Nana, and Mom?
Boom. Like that, my headache’s back, and I haven’t even touched the wine after my boozy behavior last night.
“Really? I thought that went well,” Abi says cheerily, downing the rest of her glass of Shiraz.
The rest of us stare at her, and she just grins, shrugging. “What?”
Chapter 10
Violet
The trip to my place after dinner is awkward as fuck.
Actually, if you’d asked me two days ago, this ride probably would’ve ranked up there with the most uncomfortable things I’ve ever done—riding along in Ross’s growly muscle car as he works his jaw and gear shifter with thinly corralled fury coursing through his veins. Veins I can literally see flexing in his forearms where his shirt sleeves are rolled back.
But that awkwardness ranking would’ve been before that dinner.
Now, I’m not sure much of anything will outrank that. Ever.
After Morgan’s outburst and abandonment of the family dinner, it didn’t get any better. Kimberly made some initial admonishments, but Courtney expertly sidestepped her mother and continued asking question after question. Ultimately, Kimberly had defected to Court’s side, her curiosity getting the better of her.
It’d started out easy enough, and I suspect Courtney had been lulling us into a false sense of security with her inquiries about the wedding. Venue? Of course, we have that. Date? Yep, have that too. Invitations? Abi had fielded that one and tried to help by saying she was updating them to reflect the new groom information and that they’d be ready to mail within twenty-four hours.
Kimberly had literally clutched her pearls and clarified, “You mean all the wedding plans are the ones you had with Colin? You’re just removing one groom and . . . inserting another?” Her distaste was heavy with judgement. Of me.
I’d swallowed a too-big piece of beef and looked to Ross for help because that’s exactly what we’re doing.
He’d laid his arm over the back of my chair possessively and grinned, apparently enjoying this a little too much. “Of course we are. That seems most efficient, and I do know how much of a hurry you’ve been in for me to get married and start popping out grandbabies.”
If I’d thought the death grip on her necklace was bad, it was nothing compared to the way Kimberly’s mouth had dropped open and her eyes had shot to mine, then to my table-hidden belly, and back up at Ross’s proclamation. The question was unspoken, but I’d answered it anyway. “No, of course not. And we’re not looking to start a family anytime soon. Right, dear?”
To hurry Ross’s answer, I smacked the back of my hand against his chest, telling myself that purple-nurples are a no-no at the dinner table while somehow simultaneously reminding my hoo-ha to ignore the hard expanse of muscle there. And I definitely refused to imagine Ross pumping iron to get those pecs of steel. Nope, didn’t think of that at all. “Tell your mother this isn’t some shotgun wedding. We haven’t even had a chance to discuss babies yet, much less be pregnant.”
Courtney had leaned forward, both elbows on the table at that little tidbit. I had been able to read the ‘gotcha’ loud and clear in her eyes, the delight dancing there and making me squirm in my seat like a caffeinated preschooler. Ross had cupped the back of my neck firmly, forcing me still, and my instinct was to shake him off. But I couldn’t without it looking bad to his family, and oddly, his grip had settled me.
“So you haven’t discussed babies, but you are suddenly so in love that you’re getting married in two weeks? That’s the story you’re going with?” Court said.
And things had devolved from there. They smelled blood in the water, and like sharks, Kimberly and Courtney had started asking more questions. Ones we should’ve had answers to, but because we’re flying by the seat of our pants here, neither Ross nor I had any idea.
So that had been the number-one most awkward moment in my life so far—getting grilled by a family that I once considered a close backup to my own. But this car ride was gaining ground on that frontrunner by the second.
“So, that went to hell in a handbasket faster than a speeding bullet. Now what?” I ask.
Ross downshifts, buzzing past a slower driver on the highway. His jaw clenches again . . . once, twice, three times that muscle pops in his jaw, and I wish I could read his mind. Is he regretting this already? This is such a complicated web of lies when all he really needed was a steady plus-one for a few society page appearances to get his parents off his back. The messy factor is all me—my family, my needs, my lie.
Guilt hits me full-throttle and I turn to Ross. “If it’s too much, it’s fine. I understand if you want to back out, because that was a bloodbath. Babies and weddings and where your birthmark is?” I shake my head. “I can’t believe Courtney actually asked me that!”
Ross’s lips tilt up ever so slightly. “But you knew. How did you know the answer to that, anyway?”
I can feel the heat coloring my cheeks, so I answer back with fire to cover the embarrassing truth. “Look, it’s a brown patch the size of a half-dollar on your lower back. I saw you in swim trunks basically every summer of my life. How could I not know?” I roll my eyes and hope he believes me.
He cuts his eyes over to me, and I smile, hoping it sells that this is no big deal. His answering smirk says I failed big time. “It is just a small spot that happens to be right above my ass. If you weren’t looking at my butt, you’d probably never even notice it. So tell me, Vi . . .were you looking at my ass?”
I bite my lip and shake my head, refusing to answer, but the lady doth protest too much.
“I get it. It’s a nice ass. Can definitely bounce a quarter on it. I’ll show you sometime,” Ross offers. A tease or a promise? I’m not sure which I’m hoping for.
He didn’t answer my question, though, and as much as I’d like to keep with the distraction of his ass, I need to know. “Do you want to back out? It’s fine. I understand.”
His hand leaves the ergonomic comfort of the gear shifter to rest on my thigh. It’s broad, covering a swath of my skin, and even through the fabric of my dress, I can feel his heat. He could burn me up in a flash if I’m not careful. I’ve never had his hands on me like this, at least not sober, and because I don’t remember a lot of last night, this feels new and dangerous. So fucking stupidly dangerous.
Because this is Ross. The guy who made my life hell for so long. The guy who is still mid-prank on his family, which shows he hasn’t really grown up all that much. The guy I really want to slide my dress up and grip my thigh the way he held my neck earlier.
He licks his lips, and I wonder if he tastes like the wine he had at dinner. I’d skipped it entirely, keeping to my short-term promise of water only after last night’s overindulgence. “I think I have an idea,” he says finally, a hitch in his voice that worries me.
“What?” I ask, not sure if I want to hear this.
“So our story is a warp-speed wedding so we can make up for lost time, yeah?” I nod slowly, agreeing with him. “So we need to make up for lost time, quite literally. By spending all of our time together.” He smirks, smug and proud like he just solved the global climate crisis, but I didn’t hear anything ground-breaking in that little plan.
&n
bsp; “So, we do daily dates? We’d already agreed to that. Make sure the paparazzi see us eating fancy dinners out, stop by each other’s offices, stuff like that. What else?” I say, trying to read what he’s thinking.
He shakes his head, and I can tell I’m not going to like this. “No, I mean all of our time together. You’re moving in with me. Tonight.”
Shock washes through me in an electric jolt. “No, I’m not!” I yell, my ears ringing in the tight cabin of Ross’s Camaro. “Moving in? That’s crazy . . . I mean, even crazier than what we’re already doing!”
“Vi, we’re about to get married. Don’t people these days usually cohabitate before getting married?” Ross argues. “It only makes sense for us to do it too, especially given the speed demon pace we’re setting. If we’re so all-fired up in a hurry to get married, we would be just as in a hurry to be together every second we can.”
Shit. That makes sense. Convoluted sense, but it’s pretty realistic sounding. Or at least as realistic as an overnight engagement.
“And after the wedding, we’d have to live together for a few months anyway to keep the charade up. So, what’s the difference if we bump that up a couple of weeks?”
The difference is I’m not sure if I’m ready for this. This crazy idea is starting to have a life of its own, and I’m feeling severely out of control. I can’t imagine that walking around Ross’s place for weeks—no, months—on end is going to be good for us.
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to fuck him.
I’m not sure which is the worse option.
But he’s right. I was going to have to do this after the wedding, so what’s a couple of weeks to really sell the story? I can do this.
It’s just Ross. He’ll probably put a rubber snake in my bed or Nair in my shampoo. It won’t be weird, it won’t be awkward, it won’t be a dream come true to see him walking around half-naked every day.
No, not that last one. Scratch that. Because any crush I used to have on Ross is long gone, burned to ashes in the years of growing up I’ve done. This will just be two frenemies cohabitating for a good cause. That’s it.
My Big Fat Fake Wedding Page 12
