Chapter 8 #2
I pulled the door shut and locked up. Perhaps I should ask him to leave, call this entire thing off. It was a ridiculous idea. Bloody Florence. Only she could have talked me into this.
“Kent and Robert,” he said, holding his arm out for a passing cab.
“I don’t think we should do this,” I said, my feet fixed firmly to the pavement as Beck held the cab door open for me. “It’s insane. People are going to think I’m a lunatic when they find out I’m pretending we’re dating.”
“Get in the cab, Stella.”
“I mean it. I’m a terrible liar at the best of times. But I’m not prepared for this.”
“We can talk about it on the way.”
Maybe it was the way he was so calm, but I did as he said and got into the cab, telling the driver where to head.
“I suggest we say we met at work. It’s easier to stay as close to the truth as possible. You pitched some design work to me, got the job, and I asked you out.”
He was either an excellent liar or he’d done this before. “Do you have a lot of experience at this kind of thing?”
“Having a fake girlfriend?” He raised his eyebrows as if I’d just asked him if he’d ever considered keeping a llama as a pet.
“You know, lying.”
“Everyone lies,” he said. “But I’ve never had a fake girlfriend, no.”
“Oh my God. Do you have a real one?” Of course he had a girlfriend. This guy made the Hemsworth brothers look like they lost out in the gene pool lottery. “She can’t like this idea.” My heart clattered about in my ribcage, waking my pulse and making my hands sweaty. “What if someone knows her—”
“Seriously, Stella, you need to calm down or you’re going to bring on a stroke. I’m not dating anyone.”
“You’re not? How come?” Beck was handsome, wealthy. He should have had a string of women hanging on his every word.
“If I remember correctly from the voicemail my ex-girlfriend left me last week, it’s because I’m a selfish, workaholic arsehole—no, that’s not right. I’m a piece of shit. Not an arsehole.”
I winced. I had asked. “Were you together long?”
He chuckled again, running his knuckles along his jawline. “A few months. I’m not nursing a broken heart; don’t worry about it.”
For a second, I forgot about the party, about Karen and Matt, and wanted to ask Beck exactly how long they’d been together, whether he’d been faithful, or if they’d lived together, but somehow I stopped myself.
“Perhaps we should skip tonight,” I said. “Do some homework—study each other—then go to the wedding prepared. It’s only two weeks away but by then I should at least know if you like tofu or hang gliding.”
“It’s a mutually exclusive choice?” he asked, grinning.
I couldn’t help but smile back. “Please, God, don’t tell me you like tofu.” I sighed dramatically. “I’m not sure I could have a fake relationship with a bean curd lover.”
Pride lapped at the edges of my insides as he chuckled. Creating that laugh felt like it deserved some kind of award or a badge, at least.
“You’re safe. We’ll be fine tonight. We’ll just have to try to not get separated for too long, then you won’t get asked questions about me and vice versa.”
I admired his optimism. Something was bound to go catastrophically wrong.
Even though I didn’t want to because I didn’t want someone else to feel sorry for me, I had to tell him about Matt.
It wasn’t as if he was just another guest at the party.
He was the groom. This was his party. People would assume Beck knew my history with Matt.
I braced myself for that sideways tip of the head followed by either the I’m-so-sorry face or the sharp intake of breath, shocked face.
“You should probably know that I used to date the groom,” I said.
He turned to me as the cab stopped and the streetlight highlighted the contours of his face, emphasizing his sharp jaw.
Men were so lucky—they could just roll out of bed, stick on a suit and look completely fuckable.
I’d spent the best part of two and a half hours trying my best to look sexy without straying into slutty territory.
“You did? For how long?” he asked.
I sighed and checked out of the front window to see if the lights had changed. “A long time. We met at university.” Things hadn’t been great between us for a while, I’d known that, but I’d thought we were in it for the long haul. All couples go through bad patches.
“And you’re still friendly enough to be invited to the wedding? How evolved of you.”
I shrugged, trying to ignore the weight of his stare pressing into my skin. “We have a lot of mutual friends. It’s easier if we’re civil.”
“Do you like his fiancée?”
I’d expected him to ask me when we split up. My relationship with Karen raised more questions than it answered. “You know, same friendship circle.”
“Really?” he asked, as we pulled up in front of the Berkeley hotel.
If he thought it was weird that I was still friends with my ex, what would he think if he knew Karen had been my best friend since primary school right up until the point where she stole the love of my life? “Really,” I replied as I opened the car door.
Before my feet hit the ground, somehow, Beck had sped around to my side of the car and offered his hand as I stepped out.
“Do we hate him? Or do we like him? Just so I’m prepared.”
Hating Matt would be easier. All I could focus on was why and what if things had been different. What if we hadn’t moved to London? What if I’d pushed him to get married years ago?
“We don’t care enough to hate him. He’s history, and I’m so much happier with you because you’re richer and your dick is gigantic.”
“Well, that’s true on both counts,” he said, guiding me toward the entrance, his hand at the small of my back.
Despite the fact that I was walking into one of the most difficult situations in my life, I couldn’t help but smile at Beck’s arm around my waist. But he was still a complete stranger to me.
I didn’t see how it was possible for us to get through an evening of pretending to be deeply in love when I knew close to nothing about him.
We were bound to be caught out, and if my former best friend marrying my ex-boyfriend wasn’t humiliating enough, I’d be exposed as desperate enough to have blackmailed someone into pretending they were in love with me. If ever I needed a miracle, it was now.