My Big Fat Fake Wedding(19)

“Vi needs you to marry—ow!” Abi exclaims as I stomp on her foot.

Ross gives us a look like we’re all crazy. “The hell’s going on over here?”

“Nothing. Didn’t you say you needed Ross to stop by for something?” I ask pointedly, glaring murder at Abi.

“Oh, yeah, our parents’ anniversary gift. This way, Ross.”

Abi takes her brother off to the side where there’s a beautiful multi-colored bouquet of flowers sitting on the table, handing him a pen to sign a card.

When he’s done signing, they talk for a moment, but I’m close enough to hear that it’s not about Abi trying to set up her crazy plan but rather just family drama with the company, before they return.

“Not sure what shenanigans you two girls are up to,” Ross says suspiciously, “but we’ll talk about it later. Bye, Archie.” He winks at me. “Catch you later, Chickie.”

Bastard.

He walks back over to the front, says something to Janey, then walks out.

I let out a big sigh of relief when he’s gone

“Shiiiit, Abi,” Archie says longingly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your brother is one tall glass of water! I could drink from that spigot allllll day.” He makes a glug-glug noise that turns into more of a choked gluck and I can’t help but laugh at what he’s implying. The outrageous things he says are funny enough, but when you add his dry delivery, it really sends it over the top.

But my humor dries up when I think about what Abi almost did to me. “You crazy bitch! I can’t believe you were about to ask him that!” I hiss angrily, turning on her.

“What?” Abi pouts. “I’m just trying to help. And I already know I’m right.” She places a hand to her chest. “Archie already knows I’m right.” He nods, though it’s with a grimace. “And deep down, you know it too. You were this close to agreeing before he came over and gave you a hard time, so just admit it and let’s get this deal happening. I don’t want you ending up on some therapist’s couch crying about your shoulda-coulda-wouldas.”

“Gee, thanks for your concern, Mother Teresa,” I reply acidly. “But it’s not going to work. Even if he did agree to your crazy plan, we’d end up killing each other long before any wedding. You just heard him call me Chickie . . . again. You know how much I hate that!”

Abi waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, stop it. You guys love each other. You’re both just too damn stubborn to admit it,” she says, holding up a hand when I go to protest. “And, there’s no one better for the job and you know it. You either get fake married to Ross ASAP or kiss having the memory of the most important man in your life at your wedding goodbye.”

Abi’s words hit me like a slug to the stomach.

Damn it. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right.

At this point, if I want to get married fast so my Papa has a chance to walk me down the aisle . . . it’s either Ross or no one.

But I can’t bring myself to ask him something so off the wall.

He’d probably laugh right in my face, right before calling me Chickie, or Chicken Little, or Colonel . . . that one took me awhile to figure out.

Archie grabs my shoulders, making me face him. “Okay, here’s the facts, girl. He’s single, you’re single. He’s hot, you’re hot. You’ve gotten along without death or dismemberment for a long time already, so odds are in your favor. He’ll probably do it just to have something to tease you about, but weigh that against what I imagine to be some damn good fucking with no strings attached. Sorry, not sorry, for talking about your brother’s dick, Abi.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Abi hold her hands out wide, not offended in the least about the way Arch is talking about her brother.

“Marry him for you and your whole wedding-crazy family, and then fuck him for me and tell me all about it. Slowly and in detail. You owe me that, Violet.” He points a finger in my face and I smirk.

“I owe you sex stories?” Why I’m stuck on having sex with Ross when the idea of a fake marriage is on the table is something I’ll analyze later. When I’m alone . . . maybe with a vibrator.

Arch crosses his arms over his chest and scowls, looking every bit the rebellious rocker who would rage against the machine of the patriarchy. “I dip-dyed silk by hand for Bitch-ella’s curtains. You owe me a lifetime of sex stories. Good ones, filthy ones, Ross-pressing-you-up-against-a-door-and-fucking-your-brains-out ones.”

“You’re out of your dirty mind.” Archie’s sinful thoughts are making me feel uncomfortable . . . if only because they’re summoning some very raunchy images of Ross and me together in my head. I’ve never been fucked against a door, and that’s seeming like a shame all of a sudden.

“He will do it, Vi, I’m telling you,” Abi presses. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? Nothing. It’s a win-win situation either way you look at it. My mom can stop harping on Ross to settle down, and your grandpa gets to walk you down the aisle.”

“Let me think about it,” I say slowly, trying to think of a way to get Abi off my back. As much as I want to please Papa and have the wedding, a fake relationship with Ross . . . is just too crazy. “I think I’m going to head home. It’s been a long day, a really long day.”