Fake Fiancée(38)

“Sometimes you just know when you’ve met the one. I knew the moment I saw him.” Truth rang in my voice, but I shoved that away. Hard. This was my game now. I came in close to Max and kissed him, pulling back before he could deepen it.

I slanted my eyes at her when I eased back, watching her face flame and enjoying the satisfaction of it. “He’s a maniac in the sack, by the way,” I added softly. I focused back on my fiancé. “This party’s crowded. You wanna be alone?”

His arm came around me, his words husky. “I know you hate to leave our own party, but yeah.”

Bianca watched us with her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so,” she snapped, her body stiffening as she tossed her shoulders back. “Don’t think you can snub me—”

“He will never be yours, Bianca,” I reminded her. “You had your chance and you screwed it up.”

Her eyes flashed as her hands clenched at her side, and before I could duck, she splashed the contents of her cup in my face. Beer ran down my nose and to my lips. I wiped at my eyes. My tongue came out to taste the bitterness. I’d never cared for beer.

A hushed pause came over the crowd.

“I think it’s time you left my party,” I gritted.

She scoffed. “You should leave. You don’t belong here.”

“Enough, ladies, let’s keep this civil . . .” Max started, but I held my hand up at him. My eyes told him everything. You’ve done enough. Step back, mister.

He got my message and nodded tightly.

I focused on Bianca. “You’re done messing with me and the people I care about.”

Max started at my words, but I didn’t dare look at him.

She curled her lip. “You barely know him.”

I faked a rush, taking two steps toward her and stopping when we were nose to nose. Her eyes flared, and she hobbled backward. Seeing an opportunity, I helped her along with a little shove—just a tiny one. She lost her balance in her ridiculous shoes. With her arms waving like windmills, she toppled straight into the shallow end of the pool.

She came up sputtering, shock on her face as mascara trickled down her cheeks. I watched her flounder, hoping I looked a whole heck of a lot more confident than I really was. I hadn’t meant for her to land in the pool, but I’d take it.

“You bitch,” she shrieked, her wet hair stringy as it clung to her scalp. “You’ll regret this, I swear.”

Isabella rushed to my side, Ash and Tate behind her. Isabella’s eyes went from Max to me to Bianca. A wide grin split her face and she did a little dance. “Sunny Blaine, you rock.” Then she popped her phone out and snapped pics of Bianca.

Someone whooped, and several people jumped in the pool. Within minutes, the water was full of people swimming in their clothes.

Max was looking at me, his face incredulous.

Tate chuckled. “You bloody shocked him into silence.”

I tore my eyes off Max’s face, my gaze wanting to linger there.

But I couldn’t let it.

I leaned against Isabella, my knees week. I was crashing. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you,” he murmured, moving to come around to my side.

“No,” I said quickly, holding my hand up to stop him from getting too close. Just being near him made me feel sick. Maybe that was the tequila, but either way, I needed space. “I can’t.”

His lips tightened, looking at the faces of my friends. “Fine.”

Isabella crooked her arm in mine, breaking the tension. “I’ll make sure she gets home okay and gets cleaned up. Why don’t you start throwing out the trash?” Her eyes darted to the pool where a wet Bianca struggled to get out on the ladder. Her sorority sisters had gathered around to pull her up.

“I’ll go with them and make sure they get there okay,” Ash offered.

I nodded, sent a final look to Max, and walked away.



Even though I’d had the tequila to dull my pain, I was restless that night when I finally crashed. My dreams were filled with images of Max on his knees in front of me.

And my body?

I ached for him.

I got up at eight, feeling off-kilter and exhausted. After two cups of coffee and a Pop-Tart, I was alive enough to shower. After I got out, I glanced out the window, wondering if he was up.

I forced myself to forget about him as I dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt. I put my hair up in a messy bun and headed out to the Land Cruiser. Max said it was mine for the weekend, and I wasn’t going to turn it down, even if I was still angry with him.

There was a note tucked under the windshield wiper blade.

My heart raced at his scrawling handwriting, and I pictured him sitting at his kitchen table late last night, penning it.

Dear Sunny,

I’m a goddam arrogant asshole for assuming you’d be all-in for the fiancée thing.

You hit the nail on the head, buddy.

You’ve been such a good friend to me, and I ruined it. I got caught up in wanting a big bang, and when the PR person suggested it, I ran with it. I thought about asking you first, but then figured not telling you would make the moment seem more spontaneous. I also thought it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I was wrong. It was calculated and the only person I was thinking about was myself. If you want to end things now, I get it. I will go to Mimi’s and explain everything. You can keep the money, and I will still pay to get your car fixed. Hell, you can still drive my car. I don’t want you to be unhappy, and I don’t want you to hate me.