Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ALICE
When we get home, I have my fake-Jason short story figured out. Less than two hours later, the draft is finished. Maybe it isn’t the epic romance I planned for those characters, nothing like the manuscript I struggled with for almost a year, but it’s better than that.
It’s finished.
Goodbye, Fake Jason.
Once I get back to Texas, it’ll only take a few days to finish his story off completely, to get it edited, formatted, and out of my writing life once and for all. And I can’t wait.
But for now? It’s time to write something new. Finally.
Back at Terry’s Bistro, Charlie helped me figure that out too. After we finished our to-do list, we harnessed the power of his Fishbowl of Destiny technique to nail down my newest heroine, Constance Bright. Now she gets to meet the man of her dreams at a masquerade ball.
What bliss.
I love reading scenes like that in other people’s novels. I’m not sure why I’ve never written a masked ball of my own, but I’m ready to make up for lost time. Excitement bubbles in my chest as I open a new document on my laptop. Before I can start writing, Lydia gets home from her internship at the local art museum, and all that excitement fizzles.
She greets me as Cookie paces by her feet with his beloved stuffed bee. Instead of greeting her back like a normal human being, I make things real weird, real fast. Unable to shake a question that’s followed me around since we met.
“Are you…interested in Charlie? Because, if not?—”
Lydia cuts me off with a squeal of delight, her eyes brimming with Ultimate Joy. “You and Charlie?” She clasps her hands and beams at me, getting it all wrong. “This. Is. Amazing. ”
No.
No, no, no.
I wave my hands. “Oh—it’s not—I mean, he’s nice, but we aren’t—he isn’t—I’m not.” I almost pass out in a frenzy of anxiety, but then I find the right words. Familiar words. “Charlie’s great, but he’s not my type.”
It’s true. I said that at bingo, and I meant it. I’ve been a Grump Girl as long as I can remember. Stormy men are my one true weakness, and I’ve been the lone sunshine in every relationship I’ve ever had. But those words hit different tonight.
Charlie is the opposite of grumpy, the opposite of my type, but something inside me flinches when I say it. Like how you can’t help wincing when a bad note squeals across the strings of a violin. I tell Lydia he isn’t my type, and something about that confession feels…off.
I push that uneasiness aside and try to explain. “We want to fool the Victorian. She keeps writing stuff about Charlie, so we’re going to fake date while we do some sightseeing. That way, she can’t accuse him of being a rake.”
Wait—what?
Our plan makes no sense. I don’t realize it until I have to explain everything out loud, but my brilliant idea sounds ridiculous. Why can’t we just sightsee as friends?
I have to remind myself we’ve already tried that. We’ve been going around Ponderosa Falls as friends since I got here, and that hasn’t kept the Victorian from pretending Charlie is up to no good. But what’s going to stop her from jumping to the wrong conclusions again? From seeing our new fake love story and deciding he’s still up to no good?
Plot holes.
My brilliant plan has plot holes.
I’m pretty sure Lydia can see them too. Her face is a roller coaster of emotions, her expression shifting from excitement to disappointment to confusion. “You want to trick the Victorian? By fake dating Charlie?”
Now it sounds even worse. Like I have some kind of ulterior motive. As if maybe I was the rake all along.
“It’s just so he doesn’t lose out on that job he wants. The Victorian is waiting for him to do something scandalous, so we’re going to give her a love story instead. Something wholesome and sweet.”
Explaining it more doesn’t help. I can’t believe this was my idea. It feels paper thin. If I put it in a book, my readers would tear it apart.
I can’t tell what Lydia’s thinking. Her face is unreadable until a tiny smile teases her lips. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“You do?”
She nods. “Fake dating Charlie is going to work like a charm. What could go wrong?”
Everything. But I keep those doubts to myself. “You really don’t mind? You aren’t…Charlie’s not your type either?”
Lydia shakes her head and tells me the same thing he’s been saying this entire time. About how they’re like family and there’s never been anything more between them.
“Fake date your hearts out,” she says. “It’s totally fine.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Lydia pulls her dark blonde hair into a ponytail and sits down on the couch with Cookie. I should probably let her relax after her long day at work, but one last question is bothering me, at least when it comes to Charlie.
“What’s the deal with his reputation? Why do so many people dislike Charlie?”
I’ve seen the looks he gets, especially from the women at book club. How can so many people not realize how great he is?
Lydia exhales as she tousles her dog’s long floppy ears, hesitating. “He was a pretty wild teenager,” she admits, “and his family life was a mess. His mom sent him to rehab right after he turned sixteen, but before that, he made his fair share of trouble around town—and kissed more than his fair share of farmers’ daughters. Some people can’t let it go.”
That idea is so foreign to me. Growing up in the military, I’ve never lived in one place long enough for anyone to hold my past against me. I can’t imagine what it would be like if my entire town knew the worst version of me and never let anyone forget it.
“But Charlie’s a great guy.” Lydia gives me a hopeful smile. “Are you sure he isn’t your type? Because I’ve been trying to set him up with someone nice since I got here, and you two would be perfect together.”
A blush warms my cheeks. Before I can answer, footsteps thump up the stairs, and something slides under the guest room door: a special invitation just for me. The second I see it, I know it’s from Charlie. I’m just not sure how he made something so perfect that fast.
The invitation is white with purple lettering, and there’s an image of a mask at the top. The kind you’d find at Mardi Gras or a masquerade ball. Underneath is the title of the event, and I run my finger over the words.
The Primrose Manor New Year’s Eve Masquerade Ball
We came up with that at dinner, the perfect name for the masked ball in my book, and seeing it typed out makes me smile. Though the stuff underneath, the things Charlie came up with himself, make me smile harder.
Where: Alice’s laptop
When: Now
Time: Until Constance Bright meets someone interesting
I gaze down at his invitation, and the kindness of that gesture makes the most beautiful warmth spread through me. There’s even a ticket stub at one end. Which isn’t even close to being historically accurate for a Regency invitation, but it makes me happy anyway.
Nice work, Blythe.
I open the door to thank him, but Charlie’s already gone. Lydia gets up to see the invitation for herself, and then she leaves too. Gracing me with one last friendly smile as she lets me have the room to myself.
“That invitation looks pretty official. Guess you’d better get to work.”
It doesn’t take Constance long to meet someone interesting at her aunt’s masquerade ball. She barely makes it to the lemonade table before she crosses paths with her first suitor.
Yet it’s the last man she meets that night, the one she bumps into right after midnight, who really catches her eye. A man with dark hair and an easy grin who’s never been a grump a day in his life.
As I finish my writing session and get ready for bed, I figure something else out too. I fix all those little plot holes in my fake-dating plan with Charlie. Piecing my final idea together until it’s so seamless, we can’t lose.
Because if we’re going to play this game—and save his reputation—we have to do it right.