Chapter 3
CARA
My sister looks beautiful.
Seriously, she’s like a bride out of a wedding catalog, her hair in loose curls falling down her back, soft makeup highlighting her features, and a silk dress with a train longer than I am tall.
“You look like a princess,” I gush, giving her a hug.
Carly smiles, holding me close. “Thank you.”
“This is going to be the best wedding ever,” I tell her, pushing down the rising feeling of panic flowing through my veins.
Twenty minutes ago, Jake texted me that he had arrived, and the thought of him downstairs mingling with the other guests while they get seated in the ceremonial room is giving me hives.
What if he forgets the story we went over?
What if someone makes a scene because they recognize him from his job or the headlines? What if—
“…so excited to meet this man you’ve brought,” my mom’s saying, yanking me from my internal spiral.
I grab my half-empty glass of champagne from the dressing table and drain the golden liquid. A bubble gets caught in my throat, and I cough, cringing.
“Yup, yeah, uh-huh,” I stammer, feeling my face flush red. I turn away, fussing with the strap of my dress just for something to do. “I’m excited for everyone to meet him, too.”
“You’ve checked he hasn’t had to…cancel, or anything, right?” my mom says casually, making me stiffen. God, does she just think I couldn’t possibly make a man like me or something?
Defensive, I spin on my heel and hold my head high with all the fake confidence I can summon. My sister is distracted by the makeup artist touching up her lipstick, so my mom’s focus is entirely on me when I say,
“Actually, he’s already downstairs waiting for me.”
“Well,” she presses her lips together. “Lucky we won’t be keeping anyone waiting much longer.” She turns to Carly, smiling wide. “Ready to get married, my darling?”
My mom goes ahead while the other bridesmaids and I line up; my dad suddenly appears and takes my sister’s arm.
The ceremonial room is at the bottom of a dramatic, sweeping staircase.
I clutch my bouquet tight as I descend to the slow music and pray I don’t roll an ankle or miss a step on the way down.
I usually pride myself on my ability to walk, or run, in heels, but my nerves are so high that my usual confidence is shot.
The guests line each side of the aisle as I walk down, but there’s one set of eyes that I can feel on me like a physical touch.
There are eighty faces looking up, yet I don’t see a single face clearly.
Except one, only one, Jake’s. When my sister enters in a cloud of silk, everyone turns to watch her as I take my place at the front, but Jake’s gaze stays stuck to me.
The ceremony passes in a blur of emotional tears and heartfelt vows, and then we’re whisked away for photos. I smile for the camera and congratulate my sister and her new husband, but my mind is back inside, wondering what Jake’s doing.
The first thing I do when we enter the reception is make a beeline for the bar. I order a tequila sunrise and drink half of it in one gulp; the sweetness masks the alcohol's taste, just the way I like it.
An arm wraps around my waist from behind, and I jolt, my drink sloshes dangerously close to the rim. It takes me a second to remember why a tall, handsome man would be holding me close, and when my brain manages to reboot, I remember to smile as I look up at Jake.
For a second there, I almost forgot this was fake.
The urge to melt into Jake’s arms is so strong I have to take another drink to swallow it down.
“Hey, princess,” he murmurs in my ear, and I have to tense every muscle in my body to stop myself from visibly shivering.
“Hey,” I say back, “how have things gone so far? Been grilled by any relatives? Blown our cover yet?”
Jake gasps like he’s terribly insulted. “Oh, you wound me,” he says dramatically, placing his free hand on his chest like I’ve hurt his heart. “Have a little faith.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Okay, okay,” I soothe. “I apologize for doubting you.”
He steals my drink from my hand and finishes it off, grinning when I playfully slap my hand on his chest in protest. “Forgiven,” he says, his hold on my waist tightens a little. “I think we’re both going to need another drink to get through this, right? Go mingle while I join the mob at the bar.”
I thank him as he goes to join the crowd trying to get drinks, and it’s not long before the relatives descend.
By the time Jake returns with our drinks, a Sex on the Beach cocktail for me that makes Jake wink when he hands it over, and a whisky on the rocks for him, I’m fielding questions from three different aunts.
“Oh, love of my life, there you are!” I say, perhaps a little over-enthusiastically, as Jake makes it to my side.
“My darling,” he says back with equal over-the-top enthusiasm that makes me grin and stifle a laugh. “Even those few minutes apart were too long.”
I snort, then hide it with a gulp of my drink.
Jake stands behind me. He wraps one arm around my middle and pulls me back against his firm body.
I fight the urge to squirm, suddenly acutely aware of every place we press together.
In my heels, I’m at the perfect height for my ass to press tight against his crotch.
“Is this the boyfriend we were just hearing so much about?” my aunt May coos, looking him up and down appraisingly.
Jake doesn’t even tense under the scrutiny. It hits me that he’s probably used to being stared at, judged by strangers, and scrutinized by coaches. An unexpected wave of protectiveness washes over me. I lean back against him as though wanting to shield him from my family’s judgment.
“Well, he’s certainly very handsome,” my great-aunt pipes up. “Tall, too.”
“Yes, you’d make beautiful children together,” Aunt Judy adds, always the one to stir the pot. She and my mom share that lovely trait, being sisters and all.
I feel my face go hot at the mention of us having kids, and force myself to push away the thought of Jake getting me pregnant. I try, but fail to ignore the heat that coils low in my stomach.
“I can only hope that Cara puts up with me long enough to reach the marriage and children stage,” Jake says, a smile in his voice.
The aunts keep needling him, and my mouth slowly drops open. Turns out I had no need to worry. Jake is an expert at fooling my family. He’s charming and kind and tells just the right amount of jokes to keep the conversation light. Wow, socially, a ‘pro’, too.
I stare up at him with shock and gratitude in my expression, damn impressed.
“Aww, see how she looks at him?” Aunt May says in her version of a whisper to Aunt Judy. “She’ll be following in her sister’s footsteps before long, I tell you.”
“Can’t fake that kind of love,” the other woman agrees, nodding along. “Oh to be young again…”
The three of them take up telling stories of their younger days, letting Jake and me slip away. The distance does absolutely nothing to silence their voices in my head, though.
Can’t fake that kind of love…
Well, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Faking. I don’t know what they thought they saw in my eyes, but it was nothing except gratitude. Nothing at all. I barely know the man; he barely knows me.
So why does it feel like we’ve known each other for years?
Jake hasn’t let go of me, even though nobody’s eyes are on us right now. I haven’t pulled away, either.
The condition of our agreement echoes through my mind.
“After the wedding’s over, you owe me a taste of what it would be like if you were really mine…of what it would be like if this wasn’t fake.”
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent the last few days with these words swirling around my brain.
Nerves and excitement for what he means overwhelm my body as I lean back against him, his body hard and warm against mine.
I can feel his muscles through the expensive material of his suit.
Hell, I’ve seen enough of his press to know he’s got a perfect six pack and biceps to drool over; and no, I’m definitely not thinking about that right now; and no, my thighs definitely aren’t squeezing together; and no, I’m definitely not falling for my fake boyfriend already because that would be insane.
I turn to say something and find him already looking down at me.
There’s a mixture of hunger and softness in his gaze, not a trace of the usual joking grin on his handsome face, and all the words I’ve ever known vanish.
He’s looking at me in a way I’ve never been looked at before, the way my sister’s husband looked at her at the altar.
My heart thuds in my chest, and I turn a little in his arms, my breath coming fast as I lean closer—
“There you are!” my mother’s voice slices through the moment, and I jolt, stepping away from Jake like we’re a live wire, rattled and unsteady on my feet.
Jake doesn’t skip a beat, grabs my hand and squeezes, a silent show of support that makes my poor heart beat even faster.
I plaster on a smile and, trying to hide my internal freak out, turn to my mom.
“Mom, this is Jake,” I say, introducing them. “Jake, this is my mom.” Anxiety twists in my chest. This is the real test. My mom will absolutely see through us if we slip up.
God, that would be so embarrassing.
I tighten my grip on Jake’s hand, but he looks absolutely unfazed, completely relaxed, while he smiles at my mom.
“Mrs. Lowe,” Jake says with heavy charm in his voice. “It’s so lovely to meet you. Cara’s told me so much about you.”
“Oh, call me Deborah,” my mom says, shocking me. “I must admit I’ve heard very little about you, though. My daughter’s kept you a well-hidden secret.”
I try not to visibly cringe and almost succeed. “Mom—” I attempt to intervene, but Jake beats me to it.
“That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” he says, smoothing over the awkwardness. “With my first playoff season coming up, I’ve not had time to meet the family between late practices and early starts. I’m truly sorry for not meeting you sooner.”
“It’s wonderful that you’re so dedicated to your career,” my mom coos, and I wonder who kidnapped my mother and replaced her with this sweet, polite woman.
I need to get to work fixing his reputation before she tries to Google him, and this good impression goes out the window.
I do not want to be on the receiving end of my mother discovering the article ranking Jake as the ‘most fuckable hockey player of the year’.
I zone back in to Jake discussing our fake first date story, detailing a fancy restaurant I’ve never actually been to, right down to mentioning what we got to eat.
The order he comes up with surprises the hell out of me; it sounds exactly like what I’d pick off a menu, especially the salted caramel and vanilla baked Alaska.
I’ve never had that before, but suddenly it’s all I’m craving.
Jake leans down to press a kiss to my cheek and murmurs in my ear, “I’ll take you there for our first real date.”
My instinct is to tell him that there won’t be a real date because this is strictly fake, but I can’t force the words out.
Probably because I don’t want them to be true.
Jake charms his way through my family, and much to my insane relief and shock, nobody questions the validity of our relationship. We manage to keep our lies together about how we met, why we’ve kept the relationship hidden, and how long we’ve been together.
Now, the DJ’s playing the last slow dance, and I’m watching couples sway on the floor as the music starts to play. A warm hand slips into mine, and Jake tugs me in the direction of the floor.
“Dance with me,” he says.
I hesitate for the briefest of seconds, trying desperately to deny what’s become far too clear to me tonight: I want him.
Like, for real.
Jake’s gaze softens as I step towards him.
“Stop fighting this,” he murmurs as we join the floor.
My arms wind around his neck, his hands circle my waist, and I swear we fit together like our bodies were made to fit.
I can’t stop the way my mind wanders to whether we’d fit together this well in other ways, too.
I look up at him and find him already gazing down at me.
My heart jolts in my chest, and I suck in a shaky breath.
The chemistry that’s been heating up between us all night feels ready to explode, and the only coherent thought that crosses my mind before I rise up on my tiptoes to press my mouth to his is — I need to kiss him more than I need air.
The kiss is electric.
Jake doesn’t miss a beat, despite my taking him by surprise.
He pulls me closer, his hands warm and possessive as one grips my hip and the other cradles my head.
He presses and curls his fingers through my hair.
I’m lost. I forget that we’re not alone.
That we’re on a dancefloor surrounded by my family and friends.
I forget that this is fake.
Because this sure as hell doesn’t feel fake.
The music stops. I gasp, raise my hands to his chest, and press away, feeling dizzy and like I’m drunk despite the fact that my last drink was hours ago.
“Cara…” Jake begins to say, but then my mother appears, and the moment is gone.
“I just came to say goodnight, darling,” Mom says, wrapping me in a quick hug. “I thought you were lying when you said you were bringing your boyfriend, but I see now that I was wrong. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
She gives Jake a smile, and then she’s gone to envelop my sister in one last hug before she leaves.
“Well, we did a good job,” I say, turning back to Jake, my hand up awaiting a high-five. “She believes us.”
Jake’s eyes bore into mine. “Do you?”
I blink at him, swallow hard. “Um.” I don’t have an answer to that.
Yes, you do, you liar, ‘fess up, girl, a voice in my brain pipes up.
“Come on,” I say instead, avoiding vulnerability for a minute more. “I owe you for today.”
We make our way out of the reception, and Jake doesn’t speak again until we’re alone in the elevator on the way up to our room.
“I know it was part of our deal, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he begins, stepping closer to me in the small space.
He braces his arms on either side of me as the elevator rises, surrounding me.
“But that kiss? That wasn’t fake, princess.
You can pretend you don’t feel the need between us, but your body doesn’t lie.
I see how your breath hitches and your skin flushes, and you bite your lip. I know you want this. For real.”
“I…” I try to say, but I have no argument. He’s right.
The elevator dings as it stops at our floor. When we get to our hotel room door, I know I’ve already made my choice.
No more pretending.
It’s time to show him just how I really feel.