Chapter 5
chapter
five
Evelyn
I feel a little dazed from the kiss that my fake husband just gave me. Because all the things that kiss made my body feel were very real. Not even a tiny bit fake.
It does make me wonder if Mike is a professional actor or if he’s just really going all-in on his character. He looks at me then and gives me a smile. “Ready to go?”
I nod because I don’t quite trust myself to speak just yet.
My heart still pounds, and my delicate parts are very much aware of the ridiculously sexy man holding my hand.
I’m still unsure of how anything that’s happened so far today has anything to do with a murder mystery.
But I’ve been mentally taking notes and keeping an eye out for any potential clues.
We’ve just stepped out of the main chapel into the lobby when a very large man storms inside. Mike stops short.
“I didn’t think you were going to stay in town for this,” Mike says to the new guy.
The man—tall, broad, wearing jeans and boots like he just walked off a ranch—doesn’t look at me at all. His entire focus is on Mike.
“I tried calling you,” he says. “Texting. Voicemail. For days.”
Mike winces. “Yeah. About that.”
I glance between them, intrigued. Maybe now is when the murder is going to go down. It’s exciting, but I truly hope it’s not Mike who’s fake killed. I kinda like his presence.
“That’s not an answer,” the man says, stepping closer.
Mike scrubs a hand through his hair. “My phone got smashed. Tokyo. Parking lot. Screen shattered. I didn’t get a replacement until an hour ago.”
Tokyo.
Mike had mentioned a last-minute business trip to Japan.
“You didn’t think to borrow someone else’s?” the man asks flatly.
Mike opens his mouth, frowns, then closes it. “In hindsight, yes, that would’ve made sense. Obviously.”
I press my lips together to keep from smiling.
This is very good acting.
Then the man shifts—just slightly—angling his body toward the woman beside him. He reaches down and grabs her hand, threading their fingers together.
And that’s when I really look at her.
She’s beautiful. Strawberry blonde hair up in a messy bun, a pair of leggings, a tunic shirt, and obnoxious flamingo flip-flops. Her expression is a little tight with nerves.
“This can’t happen,” the man says, his tone gruff, but thick with emotion.
Mike blinks. “What?”
“You can’t marry her.”
Wait, what? My belly swoops with excitement. Too late, buddy, I want to snap.
“I know her,” the man continues, voice steady and fierce. “I know what she needs. And you won’t give her the life she deserves.”
Mike’s confusion deepens. “Mitchell—”
Mitchell. Who is Mitchell? I mean, besides the beefy scowling giant.
“I will,” Mitchell continues. “I can. I’d choose her every day—not because I have to, but because I want to.”
The room goes very quiet.
I look down at the ring on my finger. Then back at Mike.
“Am I supposed to be offended right now?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he turns slowly toward me, then gestures at me like I’m Exhibit A.
“I already married her,” he says.
Mitchell frowns. “Married who?”
“Evelyn Barlow,” Mike says. “My wife.”
I straighten slightly. “Hi.” I wiggle my fingers in an awkward wave.
Mitchell’s gaze snaps to me. Sharp. Assessing. Then it flicks back to the woman beside him.
“That,” he points at me, “is not Evelyn Barlow,” he growls.
Oh.
Interesting.
“Actually, I am Evelyn Barlow,” I say, raising a hand politely. “Kindergarten teacher. Native Texan. Allergic to shellfish.”
The woman next to Mitchell takes a small step forward. “I’m Evelyn Barlow.”
I stare at her.
She stares back.
We blink at the same time.
Mitchell exhales slowly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but Mike, this is Evelyn Barlow,” he says. “The princess from Saldania.”
I turn my head very carefully.
“…The what?”
The woman—the princess—gives me a tentative smile. “It’s a very small island nation. People don’t usually know it.”
Mike goes very still.
I look up at him. “Like an actual princess? Is that why you kept calling me Princess?”
Silence weighs so heavily in the space that it almost feels like a pressure change.
“Oh shit,” Mike says.
I think I say it too. Or maybe it just echoes in my head.
“I married the wrong Evelyn,” Mike says slowly. He rubs a hand down his face. “This is… wow.”
I laugh. I wait for music to play in the background: DUN, DUN, DUN.
Mitchell pulls the princess into his chest, wrapping his arms around her like this outcome has been decided all the way to his bones.
Mitchell, then, turns toward us. He’s got a wry grin in place. “Welcome to the family,” he says to me, then looks at Mike, grinning even wider. “Congrats on your nuptials.” He pats Mike on the shoulder.
Mike stares at him. “You’re serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” Mitchell looks at the princess. “It wasn’t intentional; falling in love with her was the most natural thing in the world. So if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got a princess to marry.”
“Truly?” The princess beams up at him. “I wanted it to be you.”
“It’s how today was going to end, regardless of Mike’s wedding. You belong to me.”
I watch them go, my heart full in a way that surprises me.
Then I look at Mike.
“Do you mind if we go and act as witnesses for their ceremony?” he asks. “I’d hate to miss my brother’s wedding.”
Brother! Another interesting tidbit. This setup is fascinating. “I’m here for everything,” I tell him.