My Big Fat Fake Wedding(20)

All of the weirdness hits me at once. Just this morning, a short twelve hours ago, I was happily engaged and dreaming about a life of wedded bliss. Now, I’m alone and considering asking my childhood nightmare to do me a huge solid and pretend to marry me. Whose life is this?

“Veto!” Abi and Archie say in unison, bringing me back out of the hole I’m trying to crawl into.

“You’re not going home alone to wallow in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s about a douchewaffle like Colin. We’re going out. We’ll celebrate that near-miss, talk about your new fiancé, Ross, and dance the night away.”

I start to shake my head, noticing the bit about Ross she tried to sneak in there, but Archie jumps in.

“Hell, yeah!” Archie chirps, swaying back and forth and air-smacking an imaginary ass in front of him. “I am so down for that! Well, I’m pretty much down for anything, literally anything, but a night at the club sounds like just what the doctor ordered.”

“Hmm,” I say, not being able to believe that I’m actually considering the idea—of going out and of asking Ross to be my fake husband. It’s all too much, and an escape does sound perfect. Maybe instead of that ice cream I was already thinking of—damn it, Abi, for knowing me so well—I can drown my confusion, frustration, and aggression in a few shots of tequila. “Okay, let’s get drunk and dance the night away.”

“Yay!” Abi rejoices, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

“But don’t let me regret this,” I warn. “And don’t mention anything about this to Ross. It’s none of his business.”

“I won’t,” Abi promises.

“Abi . . .” I give her my best glare, threatening every bad thing I can think of.

“Trust me, your secret is safe with me.”

I nod, still not sure I believe her, but I let her and Arch lead me out to the curb where a driver is already pulling up. Archie really is a great assistant when he’s not demanding the dirty details of my sex life.





Chapter 5





Ross—15 Days Until the Wedding





S.O.S.—GIRL IN DISTRESS.

I need a HUGE favor.

Meet me at Club Red in one hour . . . we’ll have a VIP table ready to discuss.

Looking at the text from Abigail, I can feel my eyebrows start to knit themselves together semi-permanently. She’s a bit of a wild card, always rebelling against what Mom and Dad think an Andrews should do, and while it doesn’t upset me, her choice of venues doesn’t exactly inspire good cheer in my gut.

“What’s up?” Kaede asks as he sets his drink on the coffee table. After work, we switched gears from our boss-assistant gig and are just hanging out as friends, watching the fight on pay-per-view at my place. Somehow, we always manage to navigate back and forth without it being weird, a testimony to our longstanding friendship.

“I’m not sure,” I reply, holding up my phone. “Abigail.”

“Abi?” Kaede says, smiling. He reads the text, and his smile turns into a chuckle. “Any idea as to what this huge favor is? Should I go ahead and alert the PR team to be on standby?”

“Ha-ha, not funny, asswipe. I have no idea,” I admit, checking the clock. My head throbs. I’ve been busting my ass all day, probably subconsciously trying to prove to myself that I deserve my job and not Dad’s threatened demotion, and now that the sun’s set, I realize I skipped lunch too.

No wonder I’ve got a headache. I haven’t had a thing to eat since about six thirty this morning. I grab a slice of pizza from the box on the table, thankful that Kaede ordered a pie with loads of meat and veggies so it’s like a complete meal in five bites.

“Well, regardless of whatever Abi’s got on her mind, you probably need to go. Though you should be careful. Another night on the town is the last thing the board needs to hear about. I don’t think your reputation could withstand another evening of scandal.”

He’s busting my chops, knowing full well that nothing happened with the pastor’s wife and that I go home to an empty bed more nights than not.

“Yeah . . . she usually has interesting shit happening, which I’m not sure I need,” I admit. While I gave her plenty of big brother hassles growing up, my little sister’s not that bad. If you put me on the stand, I’d even say she’s pretty cool . . . for a little sister.

“And you can use a trip to the club to do some scouting,” Kaede points out. When I give him a confused look, he rolls his eyes, sighing. “Fake girlfriend, remember? Get your parents off your ass?”

“Dude, it’s Club Red. You don’t go to a club to find Miss Right, just Miss Tonight.”

Kaede shrugs. “And that’s a bad thing this time, why? Remember, short-term, fake?”

“Okay, okay . . . but only if you’ll be my wingman,” I concede. “This isn’t a purely social trip, so having you there to make sure I don’t do anything stupid is a good safety net.”

Kaede holds his hand up in the Boy Scout salute. “I swear not a drop of the demon rum shall cross these lips tonight, and I’ll keep you firmly on this side of the respectability line.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Fine . . . let’s get ready. But I need another slice. I’m so hungry that I could get shitfaced on light beer right now.”