Chapter 16
JULES
Taking a glug from my water bottle, I step into my place and drop my duffel bag to the floor. My kickboxing gear lands at my feet with a thud. When my phone starts ringing, I silence it without even glancing at the screen.
After an hour of beating up a punching bag—and pretending it was Lincoln’s face—I’m sweaty and my limbs are sore. But my heart is pumping, my head is clear and I feel energized.
I’ve been fuming all week, thinking about the way Lincoln stormed out of that restaurant. ‘Embarrassing’ is an understatement for how the whole situation felt. I’ve been pissed about it for days. So I finally decided to do something about my pent-up emotions.
But instead of choosing violence, I chose exercise as my preferred method of burning up all my angry energy.
So classy. So demeure.
Now I feel like I’ve mentally cleared the slate. And no infuriating fake fiancés were hurt in the process. That’s victory.
The smell of something spicy and delicious makes my tastebuds water. I call out to my roommate. “Hey, roomie.”
Laney looks up from whatever she’s stirring at the stove and grins at me. “Girl! I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“You’re the one who decided to sell your soul to the reception desk at The Fairy Bush General Hospital. How’s work been?” I ask as I’m pulling off my sneakers and shrugging out of my jacket at the door.
“Draining the damn life out of me.” She pouts. Then her expression twists with sarcasm. “But on the bright side, at least they paid me just enough to buy two week’s worth of beans.” She dumps a can of chickpeas into the pot.
I guffaw. “Two week’s worth?! I guess they’ve got to keep you going back for more.”
She laughs along. “Right. You hungry?”
My phone starts ringing. I silence it again.
“Starving.” I enter the kitchen, and the absolutely outrageous bouquet sitting on the counter catches my attention.
Vibrant roses, orchids and lavender, complete with cascading greenery and trailing ribbons.
“Ooh-la-la! Laney! Are you seeing somebody?! You didn’t mention you were seeing somebody.” Setting down my phone on the counter, I lean in and bury my face in the colorful, fragrant petals.
In my periphery, I catch Laney side-eyeing me as she continues to stir her soup. “Um, those are for you.”
I step back and blink. “For me?”
“Yes, for you.”
I reach for the card tucked between the flowers, and sure enough, the little yellow envelope has my name written on it.
Lincoln. Ugh.
My fake fiancé is a persistent bugger. Ever since I left him in the dust outside the restaurant a few days ago, he’s been blowing up my phone non-stop. As he should.
If I have anything to say about it, he’s going to grovel like he’s never groveled before.
My roommate plants a hand on her hip, not caring about the broth that’s dripping from the end of her spoon. “You’re the one who’s been hiding a man. I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, and now, I hear that you’re engaged?! And to Lincoln Raines?! What the hell? I thought you hated him!”
Oops!
Word gets around fast. Once Monica and Alba found out that I’m engaged to Lincoln, the news spread like a wildfire inside our friend group. I had to turn off my notifications for the group chat before the influx of messages could flood me with anxiety.
“It was…unexpected,” I tell Laney, turning my back on her.
I may be pissed at my so-called fiancé, but I’m itching to read his note. I tug the small slip of paper out of the envelope and unfold it.
Please take my calls.
—Lincoln
I scoff. Since I’m avoiding him, I’d bet he’s getting real nervous about closing his business deal right about now. Serves him right. The nerve of Lincoln Raines to disrespect me. And in public, too.
Oh, hell naw!
I’ll admit, I was more than a little butt hurt that he ditched me at the restaurant the other night.
Even though Lincoln left more than enough cash to cover the meal and a delicious dessert—I might have splurged and ordered a second slice of tiramisu to take home—I felt supremely insulted by his actions.
Getting into a car with him after that wasn’t an option.
It would have been easier to call Alba for a ride home, but I would have spent the whole ride telling her what a poopy head her brother-in-law is.
That would have totally blown up my fake marriage before it even began.
So I opted for a taxi instead, and I’ve been avoiding Lincoln’s calls ever since.
“Trouble in paradise?”
I startle and turn around to find Laney peeking over my shoulder.
“Jeez, Laney!” I slap the note to my chest, hiding it from her prying eyes.
“What’s wrong? What did he do? Tell me if I need to round up the girls and our baseball bats and head over to his house.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I lie. “Just keeping him on his toes. You know me.”
Right then, my phone starts ringing on the counter. My roommate and I both peek at the screen.
Laney lifts an eyebrow. “Ooh. Speak of the devil.”
“Your soup’s burning, Snoopy.” I point my chin toward the stove where her soup is definitely not burning. I turn for my bedroom. “Excuse me.”
I hear Laney call after me. “Don’t let him off easy, Jules. Give him hell.”
“That’s the plan,” I say with a chuckle.
Lincoln may not know me well, but there’s one thing I need him to understand before we walk down the aisle.
I may be desperate enough to marry him to get my trust fund money, but I’m definitely not going to let him trample my boundaries.
His behavior the other night was disrespectful, and I will not entertain that.
Shutting my bedroom door, I answer the call on the fourth ring. “Hello.”
“Jules. Thank god. There you are.”
“I was never lost, Lincoln.”
“I know, I know. I just mean, at the restaurant the other night—”
“I found a ride home because you were being an ass. Anything else I can help you with?”
There’s a pause.
Then he clears his throat, seemingly flustered. “Did you receive the flowers?”
“I did.”
Another pause. Like he’s waiting for me to gush over them or fall at his feet.
The bouquet is absolutely beautiful. But I don’t tell him that. I also refuse to tell him that this is the first time anyone has ever gifted me flowers. I don’t want to give him the impression that I’m folding.
Lincoln finally speaks again. “I messed up the other night. I’d like the opportunity to take you on another date.”
“So you can disrespect me again? I think not.”
More silence.
I can feel his panic coming through the phone line. He’s stressed. He’s sweating.
His voice goes tense and urgent now as he attempts to salvage our deal.
“Look, Jules. I know you’re mad at me, but you can’t back out of this wedding.
It’s important to both of us, and I don’t want anything ruining it.
There has to be some way we can work this out, and I’m…
I’m…I don’t know what you want me to say to make things better. ”
Pacing around my room, I scoff out loud. Clueless, clueless man.
“Need a hint? It starts with an S. There’s an O, two Rs, and a Y in there, too. There. I’ve pretty much spelled it out for you.”
“An apology? You want an apology?” He sounds incredulous.
I know, right? Requiring a man to apologize? Crazy work.
When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Fine. Sorry.”
“Try again. That didn’t sound sincere,” I retort.
“Are you serious?”
“Certifiably serious.”
He sucks a harsh breath into his lungs and then his voice drops to a deep, smoky timber that vibrates across the phone line.
“I, Lincoln Gregory Raines, apologize to you, Julissa Mei Lannister. I am deeply sorry for the way I behaved and for the upset that I caused you, darling. Now, I’ll do what it takes to redeem myself and get back into your good graces.
” His voice goes lower. “I’ll be a good boy. For you.”
My toes curl inside my socks. Holy shit. That was kind of…hot.
But I can’t cave. I can’t let him off so easily.
“Can I get that in writing? Notarized, maybe?” I poke at him.
“Jules…”
“Fine. I accept.” I drop onto my mattress and scowl up at the ceiling. “But you can’t behave like that again, Lincoln. Sure, we can disagree about some things. But that doesn’t give you a pass to treat me like shit.”
“That’s a completely reasonable expectation,” he says softly. “The way I handled the situation wasn’t respectful. I’ll do better.”
His humility throws me off balance. I hadn’t been anticipating it, honestly. I’d been expecting him to keep arguing his case.
There’s a part of me that wants to keep fighting with him and pointing out all the ways that he was wrong. But instead, I feel a warm sensation unfold around me like a blanket.
Then, I hear the most shocking words coming out of my own mouth. “And for my part, I shouldn’t have kept pushing when you asked me to drop the topic of your ex-wife. I’m sorry for that.”
What?! What the hell was that?!
I just apologized to him?! Is this a hallucination? What the hell did I sniff in that bouquet? I’m going to need to Google the side effects of those flowers.
In all seriousness, though—the man appears to be more than a little touchy about his ex-wife. Okay, got it.
But after Lincoln was really starting to open up on our date, I lost my filter and I took my questions too far. I just didn’t expect him to shut down like that. He’s been so open about his family. His parents. His son. The business drama.
I guess the ex is just one thing that’s off-limits. Duly noted. I have my own list of topics that are off-limits, so I should probably respect his boundaries, too.
I can hear Lincoln’s smile over the line. “I accept your apology, Jules.”
Damn. Now, I’m smiling, too. “Thank you.”
I’m a fighter to my core. I never shy away from a battle. But this—the making up part—actually feels good, too. It surprises me.
“So, can I pick you up at 8?” Lincoln is asking me now.
“Depends. Do you promise to be nice?” I challenge him.
“I’ll be nice.” His voice drops to a rumble, full of mischief. “I’ll be the nicest.”
My thighs squeeze together and I bite back another smile. “Good boy. See you at 8.”