3. Garner
GARNER
I knew I was in trouble the second Olivia took that strawberry from my fingers. The way her lips closed around it, the juice trickling down her chin—it was the stuff my late-night fantasies were made of. And when I wiped that droplet away with my thumb, I nearly lost my fucking mind.
Then that voice in the hall changed everything. This wasn't just Liv’s little secret investigation anymore. Now we had a witness. Word would travel fast that Garner McCrae and Olivia Vale were playing newlyweds at some fancy resort.
"What are we going to do?” Olivia said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s not too late to sneak back to Mustang Mountain and put in an appearance at Ace’s so we have an alibi.”
She’d already spent a fortune on the room, and it was too late to get her money back. “Would Sherlock Holmes tuck tail and run at the first sign of trouble? Don’t worry about Donna. We’ll figure something out.”
“Are you sure?”
I wasn’t sure about a goddamn thing, especially how I was going to be able to keep myself under control with that heart-shaped tub mocking me all weekend long. But I’d do anything for her, so I smiled and tried to convince her everything would be fine. “Yeah. No big deal.”
She nodded. “Okay, then. We should unpack. The first session starts at two."
I checked my watch. "That gives us about an hour."
We moved around each other in an awkward dance while we unpacked our things. I tried not to watch as she hung a silky robe in the closet but failed miserably. When she disappeared into the bathroom to change, I sat down on the bed and ran my hands through my hair.
One weekend. I just had to survive a couple of nights in that king-sized bed with her. I could be a fucking adult about it. I’d been through worse.
When she came out, she'd changed into a flowy sundress that accentuated her curves and dipped low in the front. She’d also curled her hair so that it fell in thick waves past her shoulders. I loved it when she wore it down.
"You look nice," I managed, my voice rougher than I intended.
"Thanks." She fiddled with the neckline of her dress. "Is it too much? I wasn't sure what people wear to these things."
"It's perfect." Everything about her was always perfect to me.
I changed into a white button-down and jeans.
That was about as close to "resort casual" as my wardrobe got. With my arms covered in tattoos, I probably wasn’t going to fit in with the other guys who'd be at this retreat. Men with clean-cut haircuts and golf shirts who could afford places like this without emptying their savings accounts. For a split second, I wished I’d made different choices or had access to opportunities that would have let me become the kind of guy Olivia deserved.
Then I shook myself out of it. No use thinking about things that could have been.
"Ready?" Olivia asked, slipping her phone into a small purse.
I nodded, and we headed out. As we walked toward the elevator, I reached for her hand without thinking about it. Her fingers interlaced with mine, warm and familiar. Even though we never really touched like this, it felt right. Too right.
"Remember,"—she whispered as we stepped into the elevator where another couple was already standing—"we're madly in love."
“Got it," I whispered back, wondering how I was going to be able to pull this off.
The Grand Pavilion was a huge event space with an amazing view of a gorgeous lake. About fifteen couples were already seated in a circle of plush chairs, all looking like they'd stepped out of a lifestyle magazine. Olivia tensed next to me.
"We don't belong here," she whispered.
I squeezed her hand. "We belong wherever we damn well please."
That earned me a smile, and we found two empty chairs. A few seconds later, a tall woman with silver-streaked hair stepped into the center of the circle.
"Welcome, beautiful souls," she said. "I'm Serena, your guide for this weekend's journey of connection and rediscovery."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking. Olivia must have sensed it because she landed an elbow to my ribs.
"Let's begin by introducing ourselves and sharing how we knew our partner was 'the one,'" Serena continued. "Who would like to start?"
A couple across from us volunteered. The woman shot a million-dollar smile at her husband. "I knew Chad was the one when he surprised me with a trip to Paris for our third date."
Several couples shared similar stories about grand gestures, expensive gifts, and picture-perfect moments. Olivia crossed and uncrossed her legs, snapping that hair tie around her wrist over and over.
Then it was our turn.
"I'm Olivia McCrae," she said, her voice a tiny bit shaky. "And this is my husband, Garner."
"You’re the newlyweds." Serena clapped her hands together. "I’m so glad you’re able to join us. There’s nothing like getting a lifelong relationship off on the right foot. Tell us, Garner, when did you know Olivia was the one?"
All eyes focused on me, including Olivia's. I had some generic bullshit answer ready, but as I looked at her, something else came out.
"I was sixteen," I said, going off script.
Her eyes widened, but I kept talking. "We'd grown up next door to each other our whole lives, but that summer was different. My old man had been on a bender for weeks, and I’d been sleeping in the treehouse we'd built in Olivia's backyard to keep out of his way. "
Everyone was quiet. This wasn't the glossy love story they'd been expecting.
"One night, there was this wicked thunderstorm. I was curled up under a ratty sleeping bag, freezing my ass off. Then I heard someone climbing up the ladder. It was Liv.” I glanced over and saw her lips part as she remembered.
"She had a huge rainbow poncho on over her pajamas, with a thermos of hot chocolate in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other.”
Olivia's eyes never left my face as I continued.
"She came up and sat there until the rain stopped, telling me about this book she was reading to distract me from the storm. And I remember looking at her and thinking that’s what it felt like to be home. That home didn’t have to be a place. It could be a person.”
My words hung in the air. The other couples faded into the background until all I could see was Olivia's face, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
"That was beautiful," Serena said, sounding genuinely moved. "Olivia, did you know that was when he knew?"
Olivia shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I didn't."
"And when did you know Garner was the one?" Serena pressed.
Olivia seemed to gather herself. "I think I’ve always known," she said, her voice soft and low. "Even when I was too young to understand what it meant."
Something twisted in my chest. She was a damn good actress, making it sound so real.
The rest of the session passed in a blur of couples' exercises like writing love letters and sharing three things we appreciated about each other. By the time we broke for dinner, I felt raw and exposed, like I'd revealed way too much of myself.
Dinner was served in a massive dining room with a view of the mountains. Tables were set for two, candles flickering in the center of each. Olivia and I were led to a table by the window.
"You okay?" I asked as we sat down. "You've been quiet."
She nodded, taking a sip of water. "That story you told... about the thunderstorm. I didn't think you'd remember that."
"Of course I remember it." I studied her face in the candlelight. "I remember everything, Liv."
Her eyes met mine, searching. "Was that... was that real? What you said about feeling like home?"
I could have laughed it off. Could have told her I was playing the part. Instead, I owned it. "Every word."
The waiter arrived with wine and our appetizers, breaking the moment. Olivia focused on unrolling her napkin and setting her silverware to the side.
"We should keep an eye out for any clues about Ruby," she said, obviously trying to steer us back to the real reason for our stay.
"Right." I took a long sip of wine. "Seen anything suspicious yet?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. But we’ve got some free time tomorrow, so we might be able to snoop around."
I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the mission rather than how beautiful she looked with the candlelight dancing over her skin.
Dinner stretched on, course after course of food fancier than anything I'd ever eaten. We made small talk, careful to stay in character as the happy newlyweds whenever Serena or other couples passed by our table.
By the time we made it back to our room, I was emotionally exhausted. Playing the role of Olivia's husband, saying things that weren't far from how I really felt, was wearing me down.
"That went well, I think," Olivia said as she kicked off her shoes. "No one seems suspicious of us."
"Yeah." I loosened the top buttons of my shirt. "You want the bathroom first?"
She nodded and disappeared with her toiletry bag. I heard the shower start up and tried very hard not to imagine her in it. Naked. With water streaming down her body and over all of her curves.
To distract myself, I pulled out my sketchbook and started drawing.
My hand moved on autopilot, sketching Olivia as she'd looked earlier today.
Her hair flowed loose around her shoulders, her dress skimmed over each one of her curves, and her eyes snagged on me when I told that story about the treehouse.
When the bathroom door opened, I flipped the book closed. Olivia emerged in a pair of snug sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair damp around her shoulders.
"All yours," she said, gesturing to the bathroom.
I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on my shoulders, trying to wash away the tension I’d been holding onto all day. When I finally came out in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Olivia was sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone.
"So..." I stood at the edge of the bed we'd have to share.
"We should get some sleep," she said. "Big day tomorrow."
I nodded, moving to turn off the main lights while she switched off the bedside lamp.
We each took a side of the bed, careful to leave plenty of space between us.
The rose petals had been cleared away while we were at dinner, but the memory of them stuck in my head, a reminder of the romantic fairytale we were supposed to be living.
"Goodnight, Liv," I said as I pulled the covers up to my chin.
"Night, Garner."
Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I stared up at the ceiling, painfully aware of her presence a few inches away. Her breathing was too measured, too controlled. She was as wide awake as I was.
"That story," she said, her voice soft in the darkness. "About the thunderstorm. Why did you never tell me that before?"
I turned my head toward her voice. "Tell you what? That you brought me hot chocolate during a storm? You were there, baby girl. You knew that part."
"Not that part." She shifted to face me. "The part about feeling like home."
I swallowed hard. "It’s not the kind of thing I would have shared with anyone back then.”
"No, I guess not." There was a long pause, and I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep. Then she spoke again, her voice barely audible. "Did you mean what you said? About knowing then?"
"Yeah," I admitted, the darkness making honesty easier.
"Knowing what, exactly?" she pressed.
I took a deep breath and tried to decide how much to share. "That what I felt for you was different from what I felt for anyone else. You’re special to me, Liv. You were then and you still are now."
She was quiet for so long that I wondered if I'd said too much. Then she reached across the space between us, her fingers finding mine on top of the covers.
"I'm glad you told me,” she whispered. "Even if it took a fake marriage to get you to say it."
I squeezed her hand. "Go to sleep, Liv. Like you said, we've got a big day tomorrow."
She groaned but didn't let go of my hand. And that's how we fell asleep, not wrapped in each other's arms like a real husband and wife, but connected by our hands, a fragile bridge across the space between us.
As I drifted off, I wondered what it would be like if this weren't pretend. If I could roll over and pull her into my arms, kiss her goodnight, and wake up to her next to me every morning. The line between what was real and what was fake was blurring. If we weren’t careful, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.