by J. Saman
Layla groans. “God, that’s gonna stick, isn’t it?”
“Yup.” Oliver tosses his arm over her shoulder and shakes her. She laughs and tries to duck out from under him while I watch on nervously. She already likes him. And what’s not to like, right? He’s fun and perfect. He’s offering to help her learn how to ride horses and is currently suggesting she can come back another day when it’s warmer to swim.
She’s going to get her heart broken when this is over, and I have no idea what to do about that. Our dad died when Layla was so little. Her memories of our parents are spotty at best, though she does remember the accident that took them from us. It’s been just the two of us for so long. Layla was right when she said I don’t bring men into our lives.
For this very reason.
We get attached. They leave. We’re alone.
And now Oliver is messing with that all over a stupid lie that should never have started.
Will he be yet another person we lose? Another heartache to survive?
The heart is resilient, but it’s not indestructible. Once it’s broken, it never reforms to its original state. There is always a scar left behind. Even when it fades, it’s never fully gone.
Loss creates the ugliest and slowest to heal scars of them all.
Before I can go any deeper down the rabbit hole, the front door of the house opens and there stands Dr. and Mrs. Fritz. Oliver looks a lot like his father with his tall, broad frame and dark hair, though he has his mother’s green eyes.
They smile at us, and my heart starts to thunder in my chest as my palm grows sweaty against Oliver’s. He must feel it because he gives me what I assume to be a reassuring squeeze.
“Mom, Dad, this is Layla.” He points to my sister who offers them a polite wave and a slight hello. “And this is my Amelia.” Oliver plants a kiss on my cheek and I’m relieved he called me his. I’m definitely not that either, but it feels like less of a lie than fiancée.
“Welcome. My goodness, I’m so happy to see you.” His mother, who has a perfectly coiffed blonde bob wearing a pink dress and heels—in her own home on a Sunday—comes barreling down the front steps practically at a sprint. She throws her arms around me, and I have to release Oliver’s hand to catch her. “Oh, Amelia. You’re so lovely. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met years ago when you were applying to Wilchester.”
“Yes, Mrs. Fritz, I remember. I’m so happy to see you again. Thank you for having us here today.”
“I didn’t give Oliver the choice.” She laughs against me, holding on for dear life. “And please, we’re going to be family. Call me Octavia.”
I inwardly wince, knowing Dr. Fritz is watching us, even as he talks to Oliver. Octavia pulls back and meets my eyes, staring intently at me for a very long moment. Nearly to the point where I’m desperate to shift or look away from her scrutinizing gleam.
Then she takes my hands in hers. “Yes, I think you just might be the answer to my prayers for Oliver.”
Oh, holy hell.
I clear my throat, a half-beat from breaking down into tears when Dr. Fritz comes in for a handshake. Thankfully he’s not a hugger like his wife or I’d really be done for. Especially as Octavia narrows in on Layla, fussing over my sister like she’s one of her own. They’re already talking horses as Octavia walks Layla in the direction of the stables, leaving us here alone with Dr. Fritz.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amelia,” Dr. Fritz says. “Unfortunately, in typical Oliver fashion, he hasn’t told us anything about you. I’m hoping you’ll be able to fill all the pieces my son seems to have left out.”
I blink up at him because he’s damn tall, and in his eyes, I see everything his words are saying and everything they’re not. Every inch of judgment and skepticism he has for me. I’m poor and Oliver is rich. He’s an Abbot-Fritz and I’m a nobody. Oliver never mentioned me, so therefore, I must be pregnant or blackmailing his son.
Oliver wraps his hand around my waist, drawing me into his side. “Back off, Dad, before you scare her away. Now you know why I like to keep my love life a secret. We wanted to be sure before we told you guys. You saw Mom. Every time a woman’s name is anywhere near mine, she goes crazy.”
His father holds my eyes as he says, “If Amelia is the one for you, Oliver, I doubt she’ll scare off easily.”
I have to grin at that. At the challenge behind it. “Absolutely not. Every moment I’ve been with this man has been like trial by fire and here I stand.” I glance over to Oliver. “Then again, sometimes I think I’m the lucky one of the two of us. I’m a lot to take on.”
“It’s true.” Oliver’s eyes dance about my face before locking on my lips. “You do have a mouth on you that never fails to put me in my place. Maybe it’s a redhead thing. Or maybe it’s our mutual love of the Sox or all things medical that binds us together.” Then without warning, Oliver leans in and presses his lips to mine. Right here in front of his father. It’s not overly passionate and there’s no tongue, but it’s not a quick peck either.
It’s his way of standing up for me to his father, and even though I shouldn’t, I like it.
My hand meets his arm, giving him a squeeze. Hand on my hip, he squeezes right back.
A warning. A warning for what I’m not sure, but I decide I’m on his territory here, so all I can do is follow his lead and trust him. Layla wants Wilchester and Oliver is her ticket there. That’s all that matters to me. It’s the only reason I’m doing this.
Last night is done and needs to stay that way. So all the hand-holding and touching and kissing and looks—those fucking looks—are nothing.
Because that’s all they can be.
They’re not breaking my world open.
They’re not throwing me off balance. Readjusting things I need to always stay aligned.
No.
It’s all part of the ruse, I convince myself even as the kiss ends and the smile tugging up his lips makes my belly flutter in an impossibly inconvenient way. Luckily, we’re saved from further—I don’t even know what you call what just happened with his father—as a fleet of luxury cars all seem to arrive at once.
Doors open only to slam shut just as quickly. One gorgeous man after the other crunches along the gravel drive in our direction. Only Oliver’s father hasn’t removed his gaze from me. If anything, his eyes are harder than they were before the kiss and it makes my stomach roil. His father clearly doesn’t like me. Not only that, he doesn’t trust me.
And he’s doing absolutely nothing to hide it.
I don’t know any of Oliver’s brothers as they approach us. I think I’ve only seen one or two in person before, but none of that matters. I know their faces by headlines. It’s like meeting a horde of celebrities, because that’s exactly what they are.
With the exception of Rina, who has perpetually kept a very low profile. I met her at the graduation party I mentioned in the car though it was a quick conversation. I doubt she even remembers me.
But whether she does or she doesn’t, she’s putting on a hell of a show, greeting me first with a smile and a twinkle to her green eyes that match her brother’s. “Amelia!” I get a tight hug. “God, I know we just saw each other a week or so ago, but it feels like a lot longer. I can’t believe he proposed!” She lets out a girlish squeal, squeezing me again and grabbing my hand as if she’s anxious to see the diamond sparkling there. “Wow. Gorgeous. The slug didn’t tell any of us he was even planning on doing it.” She reaches out, smacking his shoulder.
“Because I wasn’t,” Oliver says simply. “It just happened. I saw her, and I just knew I had to do it.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks, especially as Oliver plants another kiss on me, this one on my cheek.
“Your sisters and brothers knew all about Amelia, but not us,” his father states flatly.
“Probably because every woman any of these guys brings home, you stare at the way you’re staring at Amelia and Mom immediately wants to indoctrinate them into the family. I
f that’s not reason enough to keep Amelia a secret from you, I don’t know what is. You did the same thing with Brecken the first time you met him.”
Oliver throws Rina a grateful grin for that. At least now I know it’s not just me his father looks at this way.
But before I can get swept away with that, his brothers distract me by coming around us one by one, giving me hugs and making sure to somehow drop their names in conversation, making it natural. As if I didn’t already know them, though Luca and Landon are difficult to tell apart—identical twins is really identical in their case.
Yet I can’t help stand here impossibly quiet. Overwhelmed. Still hung up on the displeasure pouring off his father in waves.
Oliver gives me a pointed get your head back in the game look. Right. I totally suck at this. I don’t want to be awkward or weird. The girl always quiet and plastered to wall so she’ll stay invisible.
Oliver takes my hand, kisses my knuckles and tucks me back into his side. A place I’m far more comfortable being than anywhere else and that troubles me worse than Rina hugging me like we’re ancient besties and his brothers teasing me like they’ve been doing it forever when this is the first time they’ve ever set eyes on me.
It’s as though I’ve made a deal with the devil and all his friends. Only I’m stranded in some purgatory I can’t climb out of. His father’s discerning eyes are all over me, watching my every move and twitch. We haven’t even made it inside yet. Layla is off riding horses with Landon’s daughter, Stella, whom I have yet to meet.
I can hardly breathe through my nerves, and I think I need a drink. I came here to help Oliver sell a lie to his parents and I’m worried I’m doing a shoddy job of it.
“You okay?” Oliver whispers in my ear as if reading my mind. He sweeps his hands into my hair, pressing his forehead to mind. His lips dip in, kissing mine softly, sweetly, so tenderly I whimper. It’s like with this kiss, he’s imparting everything that’s going through his mind. All the turmoil with what we’re doing. The relief and gratitude that I’m here with him. The fear over how quickly and irrevocably everything between us has changed. He deepens the kiss, his eyes closing, and I can’t stop myself from questioning, is any of this real?
No. Of course, it’s not.
Thankfully Rina comes over and snakes her hand around my arm. “Enough making out. It’s gross.” She gives me a yank. “Let her go, Oli. You’re always hogging her and it’s my turn.”
Oliver, as if on cue, pulls away only to immediately kiss me again. We’re going to have to have a discussion about all this kissing because it’s doing things to my mind—and body—I don’t appreciate.
“We’ll eat in about an hour,” he tells me. “You doing okay?” he asks again, likely because I didn’t answer him the first time. His eyes search mine and I can tell he’s genuinely asking.
“I’m great.” I get an eyebrow from him. “Okay, I’m nervous. But I’m good.” And because I know his father is still within hearing distance, I say, “I just want them to like me.” It’s true. It’s absolutely not even close to a lie. But it’s also not something I would have admitted without an audience either.
Oliver laughs. “My mother ran in heels to hug you. It’s a sight I’ve never seen before.”
Now I feel worse instead of better, a frown hitting my lips.
Mercifully Rina gives me another tug, drawing me away, and before I know where the hell I am—this place is absolutely mammoth—I find myself in a lounge of sorts sitting in a chair that costs more than my life while Rina shakes us up a couple of martinis at the built-in bar like a professional.
“I’m making you what I like and I’m making it strong,” she tells me. “But only because that’s seriously all I know how to make, and you look like you could use it.”
“I’m not picky. I can’t tell you the last time I had a martini.”
“Oliver really put you in this, didn’t he?”
I glance down at my hands. “It was my fault too. And I agreed.”
“Well, Oliver is my favorite brother, so that makes you my favorite sister, if not my only one. I’m a nurse too, so I get it. I truly do. I may be this—” She waves her hand around the room “—But I’m also that if that makes any sense to you.”
I glance up and meet her green eyes with a grateful smile. “It does. And thank you for that.” I laugh under my breath, sagging back into my chair, feeling so lost and out of sorts. “I don’t have many girlfriends. I wouldn’t mind having one.”
“Didn’t you hear? I’m not just your girlfriend, I’m your sister. And I have a pack of sisters who will fall in love with you too. We’ll plan something for this week. You’ll see.”
“Can I ask you a very rude question?”
Rina chuckles, handing me a green concoction in a heavy cut-crystal martini glass. Jesus, even their glasses are fancy. “Sure. I don’t get butt-hurt easy.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Now she laughs. Kinda loud. “You won’t like my answer.”
“Try me. I don’t get butt-hurt easy. At least not anymore,” I add with a shrug.
“I saw the pictures, same as everyone else has. That and when my mom called this morning, she was elated and keeping her that way and her spirits up is the name of the game for her right now.”
I shake my head, not fully understanding what she meant by she saw the pictures, same as everyone else, but before I can ask, she holds up her glass to me.
“Cheers. To doing the wrong thing when it feels right and doing the right thing when you’re pretty sure it’s wrong.”
I snort out a laugh, though there is no humor in it. “I’ll definitely drink to that.” We each take a sip and it’s delicious. Tart and strong, but smooth and cold.
She sets her glass down, angling her body in my direction. “For what it’s worth, my brother likes you. My mother and the press aside, if he didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, and he’d be able to keep his hands, lips, and eyes to himself. But I will have to warn you because I like you. Since Nora dug her talons into his heart, he hasn’t been the same. And he’s sworn to never put himself out there like that again.”
I appreciate her candor, so I decide to return the favor. Even if it stings.
“I’ve been hurt myself, so I get it fully. You don’t have to worry because I have no intention of putting myself out there again either. Your brother likes women, Rina. And he’s as charming as it gets. I know all too well that what we’re doing is fake.”
I’d be a fool to allow myself to imagine otherwise.
10
OLIVER
The ride home from my parents’ place isn’t long enough to keep this night going. Even when I know it’s not headed where I want. With Amelia back in my bed. But still, tonight was unexpectedly perfect. Everything went off without a hitch.
Which just makes me all the more certain this can’t last between us. Because the other shoe always drops, and if I let things with Amelia and I get real, the pain when it all falls apart will be real, too.
Layla hasn’t stopped talking. Not once. She’s told us all about riding Frosty and how awesome it was. Then all about how my mom invited her to come back whenever she’d like to ride. Then came everything about Stella. The two girls hit off famously and already made plans for next weekend.
Plus, Rina and Amelia seemed to have formed a fast friendship as I knew they would.
I’m happy about that. About all of it, really. Layla deserves this. Amelia deserves this.
And maybe I should feel more guilt about what Amelia and I are doing, but I don’t. My mom was over the moon tonight. Lit up with more smiles than I’ve ever seen on her. My dad, however, was a different story. He thinks I’m being taken for a ride by Amelia. He didn’t say as much, but I can see it in his cool, assessing gaze. I can hear it in the undertone of his barely polite words.
Maybe that’s the irony of all this.
I’ve finally met a woman who doesn’t care about my money,
who sees something else when she looks at me, but I’m not actually dating her. I know she feels like a fraud. That she hates lying, especially to my mother. I also know she liked the way my family embraced her as one of our own tonight. She laughed and relaxed—though I’m sure much of that was thanks to Rina’s cocktail and the wine with dinner. But when was the last time she had that?
People on her side? People who have her back? Just people?
And what will it be like for them when this charade is done?
My hand grips the wheel a little tighter as I glance in her direction, her expression soft and a little lazy as she talks to Layla, answering her about something I missed completely. As if she can sense I’m looking, Amelia turns, catching my eye and blindsiding me with a smile. My heart trips clumsily in my chest and I quickly turn back to the road.
“I’ll be sure to get dinner going tomorrow if you’re home late. It’s not a problem.” Layla shifts in her seat, tapping Amelia on the shoulder. “Hey. Now that you’re engaged, maybe Dr. Saggingballs will finally stop asking you out all the time.”
“What?” flies out of my mouth like a heat-seeking missile as my grip goes from tight to white-knuckling the steering wheel. A hot trickle of jealousy creeps through me, blindsiding me once again. I don’t get jealous, and I never care. But that thought doesn’t stop my jaw from clenching either. “What do you mean, Dr. Saggingballs asks you out?”
Amelia angles herself in our direction, rolling her eyes at Layla. “First, that’s not his name. Second, he stopped doing that years ago.”
“Right,” Layla snorts. “That’s why he still calls you like five times a night to ‘talk about patients who don’t need talking about’.” She puts air quotes around those words. “It happens nearly every night. And I hear him because he speaks louder than God talking to Moses on top of whatever mountain that was. The man bellows. He always asks what you’re doing over the weekend or that night. What?” Layla’s hands fly up in the air. “Stop glaring at me like that. You know it’s true. He calls to make sure you’re not out on a date or with a man.”
