Chapter 17
17
LAYLA
D aphne dips her face into a lavish bouquet of peach flowers and sighs. “Maybe something like this?” She passes the floral arrangement around, hopefulness glimmering in her eyes.
Today, she’s finalizing the flower selection for her wedding. Her aunt Rainbow was supposed to be here with her, but she wasn’t able to close down her farmer’s market booth. When we found out that she was planning to come alone with just her big sister, Ziggy, we all crashed the party.
Karli, Nicky, Inez, me. Even her future mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law. Now, we’re at the Iris in Bloom flower shop in Sin Valley.
Archer was kind enough to give me the afternoon off from the hardware store just so I could come support his sister-in-law-to-be. Or maybe so he could get away from me. Who knows?
Daphne stands in the middle of the floral shop, admiring the gorgeous bouquet in a narrow full-length mirror. Mrs. Brighton approaches from behind, hands half-covering her mouth as she gushes over Daphne.
“Oh my. Daphne. I just can’t…” Mrs. Brighton blubbers. “You’ll look so beautiful in your wedding gown, especially with this bouquet. Felix is going to faint when he sees you walking down the aisle. My son is a lucky man.”
I can’t help but tear up a little bit when I see the wet drops tracking down the older woman’s cheeks.
Mrs. Brighton was overseas during Daphne’s dress fitting and a lot of the other wedding preparations. So now that she’s back in town, she refuses to miss out on the remaining arrangements for the big event.
I love seeing the bond between the two of them. Must be nice having Mrs. Brighton as a mother-in-law.
Daphne and Ziggy aren’t very close with their own mother, because well, she’s basically a rich, evil woman. I think that’s why the Brighton family have really taken the Beaumont sisters into the fold.
Although my situation is far different, I know a little about how Daphne and Ziggy must feel. I sometimes wish the Brightons were my parents, too.
But then that might make this whole fake-dating their son thing a little weird.
Or rather, a lot weird.
Oh god—I’m fake-dating Archer Brighton.
I’m still trying to figure out how that happened. One minute, I was a fish out of water at the Brighton family dinner, silently questioning whether I even belonged there and whether Archer was actually flirting with me. The next minute, I was announcing to the entire family that I’d be the woman on his arm at Felix and Daphne’s wedding. I still don’t understand how things escalated that quickly.
Last night was a sleepless night. I tossed and turned in the dark as my friends blew up my phone with text messages, demanding an explanation for what’s going on between Archer and me. I had no idea how to answer them, so I didn’t.
Today, I’ve been mostly laying low and hanging out on the sidelines in an attempt to delay the inevitable interrogation. Thankfully, the girls didn’t start hurling questions at me in front of Archer’s mother and grandmother. But I know the big inquisition is coming the minute they get me alone.
Daphne bashfully spins and twirls and accepts everyone’s compliments as Iris, the shop owner, offers a few suggestions. The bride-to-be looks stressed and frazzled and overwhelmed with all the decisions she has to make. But more than anything, she looks excited. Her big day is drawing closer and I can only imagine how excited she is to walk down the aisle.
A thought flickers across my mind. For a fraction of a second, I imagine myself in her shoes, planning an intimate gathering to celebrate a life with a man who’s crazy over me.
When I was a little girl, I used to dream about my wedding day. But it’s been years and years since I’ve allowed myself to imagine getting a happy-ever-after. By now, I’ve come to accept that some girls don’t get the happy ending, especially not over-stressed, burnt-out single moms.
When Daphne and Iris disappear somewhere in the back of the shop to finalize the order, Mrs. Brighton approaches me.
“Layla, dear.” She takes my hands in hers. “I’ve been meaning to get a moment with you.”
My stomach tightens. “Oh, yeah?”
“I’m just so happy that you and Archer are dating,” she declares, beaming.
“You are?” I question, my voice shaking the slightest bit.
“Of course I am,” she says, as if it should be obvious.
With the amount of chaos I have going on in my life, I wasn’t exactly expecting an enthusiastic stamp of approval from Archer’s mom.
Mrs. Brighton leans in closer, lowering her voice just a notch. “I was trying to mind my business at dinner last night, but I saw the way he was looking at you the whole time. It might be too soon to say this but, it won’t be long until you’re the one picking out wedding flowers.” She sighs. “You’ll make a stunning bride, too.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “B-bride…?”
Mrs. Brighton nods excitedly. “Archer is not the type of man to fall in love with every woman he sees. He has big walls around his heart. But when he falls in love, oh , when that boy falls in love, it’s truly a special thing. My oldest son loves big , and I can tell that he loves you . It won’t be long until he makes things official.”
I swallow hard, unable to move the lump in my throat.
Oh, what have I gotten myself into?
I love Mrs. Brighton, which makes this so much harder than I expected. I don’t want to deceive her. But this whole thing is fake. It only started because I was trying to help Archer out. Looks like I didn’t think very far ahead.
My anxiety starts to bubble. I glance around nervously, and Karli makes eye contact with me from across the flower shop.
Crap. What does Karli know? I’m so gonna be busted.
My bestie rushes across the room to my rescue. She’s carrying a small flower pot in her hands. “Mom, look at this croton plant. Isn’t it cute? There’s a whole display of them over there.”
Mrs. Brighton stops and looks around the shop. “Where?”
“Over there,” Karli says, “ Wa-a-a-a-a-y over there.”
“Well, this I have to see!” Grandma Brighton claps her hands in excitement and the two women amble to the other side of the boutique.
“Okay, spill it, woman,” Karli hisses, wasting no time as soon as she has me alone. “What is really going on between you and Archer?”
Ziggy, Nicky and Inez close in on us. They begin questioning me, too.
“Yeah, what’s going on with you two?”
“Are you really together?”
“Is that why you moved into his house?”
“How long has this been going on?”
I fumble over a response, starting and stopping a half dozen times since they keep interrupting me. “Uh. Yeah… Well… Archer and I are together now,” I say dumbly. “In a relationship. A real one. Because we like each other. Y’know, like that . And, he asked me to be his wedding date.”
My palms are sweating as I take in many pairs of narrowed eyes. Too many knowing gazes. It’s clear that no one believes me. Somehow, the girls all know I’m lying.
Shit. I’m a terrible liar.
Ziggy is the first to clear her throat and speak. “Well, you clearly have the hots for Archer but—”
“I do not!” I shout defensively.
The girls exchange looks.
Okay, Layla. You’ve got to keep your story straight! Either I’m dating Archer or I’m not dating Archer. I can’t have it both ways.
“As I was saying,” Ziggy continues, “something about this just feels… off .”
I’m sweating. Trying to find a believable excuse. And sweating.
Nicky observes my face, taking a step backward and shaking her head. “You know what? I don’t want to know…It might actually be better if we don’t know exactly what’s going on there…”
“Yeah. I’m all for having plausible deniability when Nolan starts drilling me with questions,” Inez agrees.
The girls hustle away, darting toward the house plant section where Mrs. Brighton and Grandma Brighton are browsing in delight.
Ziggy sighs deeply, trailing behind them. “No fair,” she grumbles, hands caressing her tiny baby bump. “I’m the psychic. I know the truth even though I don’t wanna know the truth.”
I give Ziggy an apologetic shrug, grateful to be off the hook.
But then I glance to the side and catch Karli glaring at me, her arms folded across her chest.
I give her a bright grin. “Don’t you want plausible deniability, too?” I ask, my voice full of hope.
Karli scoffs. “Nice try, bitch. I want details.” She loops an arm through mine, dragging me to the opposite side of the floral boutique. “Tell me everything. Don’t skip one single detail.”