Chapter 8
8
Millie
Besides needing information from me to book our flight to Honolulu, Ezra and I haven’t spoken in a month. I’m supposed to convince his family I’m his wife, yet I know very little about the man.
Okay, I did hook up with him, so “little” is not quite accurate. Even so, when it comes to him, all I know is that he’s super competitive, he can sing the fuck out of a Freddie Mercury song, he has one tattoo (that I’ve seen), and he takes medication for depression. Oh, and, apparently, we have the same taste in women.
Other than that? I’m clueless.
When I’m hired for a role, I spend time researching the character—their motivations and what makes them tick. Even as my LULU persona, Jules, I’m given a small backstory to get into character.
Determined to change the situation, I swipe my phone off the kitchen counter and open our text thread.
Me
I think we should get to know each other better before Hawaii
I’ve finished my coffee by the time he texts back.
Ezra
What do you mean?
Me
I’m supposed to be your wife starting next week, but I don’t know anything about you. How do you take your coffee? Do you even drink coffee? Do you snore? How did we meet?
How did you propose?
Do you have any weird quirks?
Kinks?
Ezra
Why don’t you come over for breakfast tomorrow? We can talk then
Me
Fine. What should I bring?
Ezra
Nothing. I’ll cook
Me
*Can* you cook? See, these are things I need to know
Ezra
You can find out tomorrow
Do you have any allergies?
Me
Look at you being a good hubby already
Cashews
Ezra
Got it. See you tomorrow, honey
Me
Honey?
Ezra
Yeah. It’s your wife nickname
Honey? That’s what he’s chosen?
A memory pops into my mind unbidden. It’s from a night at the bar in Greece when he thought he could do a better job at karaoke than me.
Watch and learn how it’s really done, honey .
The nerve of that motherfucker. He’d pissed me off. Mostly because he was better than me.
Me
Hmm, we may need to work on it…
What’s my nickname for you?
Pumpkin?
Ezra
No
Me
Sugar lips?
Ezra
Absolutely not
Me
Sweet cheeks?
Ezra
Try again
Me
Daddy?
When he doesn’t reply right away, I worry he’s ghosted me. But…
Me
OMG
Did we find *the one*?
Three little dots appear, then disappear, only to dance on the screen again a few seconds later.
Ezra
You’re a menace. See you tomorrow
The music playing in Ezra’s apartment is so loud I can make out every word from the hall. It’s a Frank Sinatra song, though Ol’ Blue Eyes isn’t the one singing. This voice is much more raspy. Ezra, maybe?
I knock and quickly adjust my bra straps beneath my white linen maxi dress while I wait. The bra is new, and so far, I hate it. What I’d give to take it off. Free the nips and all that jazz.
The door swings open, but instead of a very large man, I’m met by a middle-aged woman with white hair and hazel eyes.
“You must be my daughter-in-law.”
My heart lurches right out of my chest. Come again?
“ Mom .” Ezra flies around the corner, his beard dusted white. Either it’s powdered sugar, or my fake husband is doing cocaine at ten a.m.
“Hi,” I say as I’m ushered into the apartment by my, uh, mother-in-law?
As I slide off my sandals, Ezra takes my purse and hangs it by the door.
A whiff of almond and orange passes in the air between us as he eyes me. “You look shocked. Didn’t you get my text?”
Shaking my head, I pull my phone from my purse. Sure enough, I have an unread text.
Ezra
Sorry it’s last minute, but my mom is here. I hope you don’t mind, but she’s staying for breakfast.
“She comes over once a month for breakfast, and I forgot to cancel.” He frowns.
“It’s okay,” I reply, though I’m not sure it is. Typically, I’m great with moms, but in a circumstance like this? I don’t have the first clue how to play things. “Does she know?—”
“About your fake nuptials? Yes,” she answers.
“Oh.” Relief floods my system. I’d hate to lie to more people than necessary.
“I’m Dawn Miller, by the way.” She envelops me in a hug. “You smell good.”
“Thanks.” I return the embrace, surprisingly comfortable in such close proximity to this woman. “I’m Millie.”
“Nice to meet you, Millie.” She pulls back. “Is that short for anything?”
“Amelia.”
“Beautiful. Just like you.” Her smile is bright, and she looks like she wants to pinch my cheeks the way a stereotypical Jewish mother would.
I love this woman already.
“Come, let’s sit and get to know each other,” she says.
I look over my shoulder to her son first. “Do you need any help? ”
“I’m almost done here, but do you want to fix your coffee the way you like before you get settled?”
While Ezra fills a mug, I open the refrigerator and find only vanilla oat milk in the way of coffee additives. I suppose beggars can’t be choosers, so I pull it out and turn. “Do you have sugar?”
With the glass jar he offers me in hand, I shake a generous amount into my mug, followed by the oat milk.
With an exaggerated gasp, he teases me. “Need any coffee to go with that sugar?”
“Oh, hush. I like my coffee sweet.”
“That’s not coffee, honey. That’s a sugar rush in a cup.”
I scowl. I never used to be self-conscious about my sweet coffee fix, but since my last director shamed me about my weight gain in front of the cast and demanded I cut back on calories, I’ve been acutely aware of it.
“Look at you two—a bickering old married couple already.” Dawn leans into me, her lips quirked up on one side. “Don’t let his comment get to you. This big guy’s got a giant sweet tooth.”
The way his mom calls him “big guy” makes me chuckle.
“She’s right,” he says. “But I don’t drink coffee.”
I rear back and slap a hand to my chest. “Excuse me, what? I think we need a divorce.”
With a huff, he rolls his eyes. “ Ha ha .”
“No, seriously. You’re a teacher. How do you wake up so early, then have the energy to deal with children all day?”
“I prefer black tea.”
“Oh, so you still have caffeine. Not a total psychopath. Got it.” I grin over the top of my mug. “But wait. I’ve seen you drink coffee before. In Greece.”
Tentatively, he studies me. “During my last depressive episode, I developed an aversion to it.” He shrugs.
Dawn pours herself a cup of coffee with a splash of oat milk, then ushers me over to the table already set for three .
From my seat, I have the perfect view of Ezra when he slides on oven mitts and pulls a casserole dish from the oven. Instantly, the hints of orange and almond compound until the apartment is thick with the saccharine scent.
“It smells delicious. What is it?”
“French toast casserole. Made with challah bread.” He sets the dish on a hot plate in the center of the table.
Color me impressed.
When the three of us are served, I’m the first to speak. “So, Dawn, are you cool with this thing we’re doing?”
“You mean lying to my ex?” Her eyes light up. “Yes, darling, I’m more than okay with it. I wish my son would tell him to stick it where the Hawaiian sun don’t shine, but I understand why he wants you there.”
“And why is that?” I turn to Ezra. “Why me ?”
The man beside me could have any woman in New York City, yet he’s asked me.
“Because you’re a talented actress.”
A hint of something that feels like disappointment scratches at the back of my mind, but I ignore the sensation. “How would you know?”
He side-eyes his mom, then sheepishly lowers his focus to the table. “I may have seen you in action.”
“What?”
His expression is earnest when he meets my eye. “When you were in Mamma Mia .”
“You saw that?”
“We both did,” Dawn pipes in. “You were fabulous. Absolutely fabulous.”
I’m stunned into silence. And extremely flattered. Ezra’s mom is delightful. “Thank you,” I beam. “So, Dawn, what do I need to know about my husband?”
On my way home, I pop in my AirPods and call my parents, figuring I should give them a heads-up before I leave the continent.
“Amelia,” my dad answers. “Can you switch to FaceTime? Bea wants to say hi.”
I flip to video, and my newly four-year-old niece’s chubby cheeks fill the screen.
“Hi.” Gosh, I love her mousy little voice.
“Hi, Dolly,” I say, using the nickname I gave her the day she was born. All swaddled up with a pink hat on her head, she looked just like the baby dolls I had growing up. “How are you? I miss you.”
“Miss you,” she squeaks. And with that, she drops the phone.
My mom comes into view then, wearing an indulgent smile. “She’s off. You know how active she is. Never sits still.”
“That’s okay. How is she? Are you at Asher’s?”
“Yes. Why don’t you come up?”
“I wish I could, but I’m actually leaving for Hawaii.”
“Hawaii?” My dad appears next to my mom, his brows lifted in question.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I need to get out of the city for a bit.”
In unison, my parents nod.
“You deserve a break, sweetheart,” Dad says. “We know how stressed you’ve been.”
“Who are you going with?” Mom chimes in.
“Just a friend from work.” It’s not really a lie. This is work, even if I’m not getting paid for it.
If I tell them the “friend” is Ezra, they might try to talk me out of it. They know all about Sam and the fucked-up threesome (as opposed to the sexy variety) .
Truthfully, if she had been genuine from the beginning and explained that she was exploring and also dating a man, I think I would have been okay with it. And the three of us together? That could have been a really fucking hot threesome. Not that I think Ezra is anywhere close to the nonmonogamous type. He’s using me to prove to his dad that he’s a one-woman man, after all. Though, to be fair, I’m not going to Hawaii against my will. While the circumstances are wild, this trip is coming at the perfect time. Showbiz is burning me out, and I desperately need a change of scenery. I’d be nuts to turn down a free trip to a tropical island in exchange for kissing an attractive man on the cheek a few times and holding hands.
“You still there?” my dad asks. “You’re frozen.”
“Still here. Can you hear me?”
“The connect… not… ood. Okay? We’ll… late… have fun.”
“Fun,” Bea echoes in the background the instant before the call drops.