Chapter Twenty-Two Presley
Chapter Twenty-Two
PRESLEY
After my parents ambushed us with a surprise wedding reception, Hollis and I slowly start to settle into a nice routine.
He works during the day, doing whatever managers do to get a new nightclub up and running, while I run errands and take care of things around the apartment.
In the late afternoon, we both head to the bar.
I’ll either work a shift with him behind the bar or, if we have enough coverage, I’ll go back to my office and try to find ways to keep the doors open.
On days when we both have off, I act as a tour guide and take him to the beach or a museum. We even spend an entire day at Disneyland, where we buy matching mouse ears and ride Space Mountain three times in a row.
We talk endlessly about the past—his and mine, together and apart. I learn so much about him and the life he’s lived. I think it’s been a lonely one.
And the more I listen, the more I start to wonder if mine might have been too.
We do not discuss the kiss in my parents’ driveway.
And I definitely do not think about it when I’m alone in the shower. Or in bed late at night. Or that one time I locked the door to my office…
Occasionally, my mom calls and asks us questions like, Do we want the reception inside, or on the beach under a tent, or do we want a cake or a dessert bar?
I have no idea how to answer, because all I can think about is the fact that Hollis was supposed to move back to Nashville in November, and now my parents are throwing a lavish celebration of our love a month later.
He told me he would stay, but how is it going to look when he leaves a few weeks later?
Or a month?
God, this will break their damn hearts.
In all my self-loathing over the bar and Jace’s break-in, I never stopped to think how this fake marriage might affect anyone else. When Hollis suggested we stay married, all I could see was how it would benefit me and solve my problems.
Now, I’m worried about how much collateral damage we might cause because of my selfishness. This revelation is why I decided to ask them to hold off on telling my siblings.
Maybe if they have less time to become attached to him, it will hurt less when he’s gone.
My mom was initially resistant to the idea, so I may have laid it on a bit thick, telling her at dinner that night that we just wanted a little time for ourselves before everyone else found out.
I watched as her expression softened, and she gave us a sappy smile.
She agreed we’d tell the rest of the family when Hendrix and Zander return from Europe next month.
That was two weeks ago, which means I have two more weeks of dodging my siblings before the news of my marriage gets out.
I’m honestly surprised my mom has managed to keep a secret this long, especially one so big. She’s been dying for one of us to get married for years. Pretty sure she almost got her wish when Cash was dating Taylor’s mom, but that all went to shit—to put it mildly.
Speaking of…
Sitting in my office, I look up from the report I’ve been staring at and do a double take as I catch a glimpse of my brother entering the bar on the security camera I now keep open on an extra monitor on my desk.
“Fuck.”
We’ve barely been open an hour. There are maybe five customers milling about while Hollis and Mel prep behind the bar for the crowd we’re sure to have later on.
I’m about to get up and go out there when I notice how Cash marches right up to Hollis without a hint of surprise on his face.
“You were doing so well, Mom,” I mutter under my breath, wishing this camera had audio, but California has strict laws, and I already feel like a creeper with how much I watch my employees since Jace was fired.
I sneak out of my office and walk down the hall.
Cash and Hollis are close enough to the end of the bar that I can just make out what they’re saying without actually leaving the hallway.
And yes, I know eavesdropping isn’t cool, but is it that bad if it comes from a good place? What if a fight breaks out in the middle of the bar? What if my brother is his usual jackass self and hurts Hollis’s feelings?
A lot could go wrong.
“So you’re not going to tell me?” Cash’s authoritative voice comes through loud and clear.
“Tell you what, man?” Hollis asks, sounding calm and unruffled by my brother’s grizzly demeanor.
“The real reason you and my sister got married. ’Cause I’m not falling for this insta-love bullshit my parents told me.”
I knew my mom would cave.
“And why’s that?”
“Because it’s ridiculous. Only an idiot would think they could fall in love that quickly, and although my sister can be a bit impetuous—”
“Hey, now.” Hollis’s voice grows cold. “That’s my wife, Cash. Don’t start badmouthing her in front of me. I know we’re brothers now, but don’t think that’ll stop me from putting you in your place.”
“Unbelievable,” Cash grumbles. “So that’s the party line? That you, what? Suddenly remembered she existed after twelve years, and after a few texts and phone calls, you fell madly in love with her?”
I squeeze my eyelids shut. I hate how much his words affect me. I love all my siblings. I really do. But with Cash, it’s always been a struggle. Our personalities are completely different, and for years now, I’ve felt like all he does is judge me and everything I do. It makes me feel small.
And I hate feeling small.
“First of all,” Hollis says. “I never forgot her. Not for a second.” My breath catches as Hollis’s words affect me in a completely different way.
I try to remind myself he’s just playing a part.
Selling the story. “Just because I didn’t contact her—or any of you—doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.
We all have our shit, Cash. I was dealing with mine. Maybe you should go deal with yours?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Last time I saw you, you weren’t such a self-righteous dick,” he says bluntly. Oh, damn. I smother a laugh. “I don’t know what happened between then and now, and it’s frankly none of my business, but maybe you should figure it out. In the meantime, try not to take it out on my wife, yeah?”
God, why is that so hot?
Friends, Pres. You are just friends.
A beat of silence follows, and then Cash says, “Yeah. Okay.”
“Cool. You want a beer?” Hollis asks, his icy demeanor changing in an instant. I can’t help but grin.
“Yeah, man. I’d love one.”
“Coming right up. You still like that bougie microbrew from Washington?” He must nod because the next thing I hear before I turn to leave is, “Hey, so tell me all about this niece of mine. Does she like movies?”
I smile the whole way back to my office.
“That was wild,” Hollis exclaims just before he stifles a yawn. We just got home. It’s around three in the morning, and we’re both dead on our feet. “I know you’ve told me about the tour bus thing before, but experiencing it was something else.”
I laugh, toeing off my shoes one at a time by the front door. “I tried to warn you.”
“Listening to people gush about your brother all night long has got to be weird.”
“It’s beyond weird, which is why I never tell them who I am,” I explain, hobbling on my sore feet to the sofa. “Because they all end up treating me like I’m some sort of celebrity adjacent, and I hate it. Plus, I can’t do my damn job.”
“How do they know?” he asks. “Because everyone on that tour seemed to recognize you straight away.”
He joins me on the couch, his head falling back on the cushion.
He looks as tired as I do, but I worry it might actually be worse.
He’s been putting in a lot of hours during the day, touring properties and meeting with contractors.
Then he comes home and leaves again to work another full day with me.
It can’t be sustainable.
“Jace is an attention whore,” I grumble. “And he loved to brag that he was dating the sister of Hendrix Creed?”
“That’s fucked up, Pres. Being with you should be the reward. Not anything else. Just you.” I feel momentarily stunned. Is he talking for himself or just in general? Before I can answer, he continues. “Feel free to hide in the office next time they come.”
“What? No way,” I argue. “We were too busy. I can put up with a few fan girls asking about my brother’s chiseled abs.”
“That’s horrifying. Truly.”
I laugh. “It could be worse. I could be Asher’s sister. That poor man never gets any peace.”
“I saw him that night at Velvet. Even on the security camera, he never looked completely relaxed. Like, he always seemed to be looking over his shoulder, even when he was joking with his bandmates. Is it really that bad?”
“Yeah. When he came over to our house for dinner a couple of months ago, he had to use a decoy driver and switch cars halfway here, just so that he could throw off the paparazzi that park outside his house twenty-four seven.”
“That’s insane.”
I nod, noticing how he’s not showing an ounce of jealousy as I talk about Asher. I couldn’t even mention his name in Jace’s presence without him storming off in a tantrum. “It’s definitely not glamorous.”
I adjust my sitting position, trying to take all the pressure off the balls of my feet, but I can’t seem to get comfortable. Hollis must notice because he motions toward me. “Give me your feet.”
“What?”
“Swing your feet onto my lap, Pres. They are obviously killing you, and I guarantee a foot rub falls safely within the guidelines of our friendship.”
Are you sure about that?
I eye him warily but do as he says, and the second his fingers press into the arch of my foot, I let out a small moan.
“Well, shit, give me a fighting chance here, Pres.”
I burst out laughing. “Sorry, it just feels really good.”
“Exactly what I was aiming for,” he tells me with a smirk. “Just try to keep the sex noises to a minimum, ’kay?”
My lip twitches. “Will do.”
He resumes his massage, and I try my damndest not to whimper or moan or do anything else remotely sexual while he releases the tension from my tired feet.
He is really good at this.
Is it a natural talent, or is there a string of women before me who have benefited from his skilled fingers?
A surge of jealousy flares to life deep in my belly.
Nope. Not gonna think about that.
In fact, I’m not going to think about anything except reciting the alphabet backward. That and plain oatmeal.
Dirty socks.
Anything but the feel of this man’s hand on my—
“Cash visited the bar today,” he says, interrupting my thought spiral.
“I know. I saw him on the security camera,” I say casually, deciding to go with the partial truth. I’ll leave out the part where I stood in the hallway like a stalker. “I’m assuming he knows.”
“He knows,” he confirms. “He doesn’t believe us, but he knows.”
I snort, his words helping to distract me as he continues to work his thumb into the arch of my foot. “That’s not surprising. He’s the most pessimistic person I know. How’d he find out?”
“He overheard your dad at the office talking with your mom,” he explains. “It worries me that he doesn’t believe us, Pres. What if the others don’t either?”
I shrug. “My parents did.”
He tilts his head. “Your mom believes us because she wants it to be true. And your dad is probably so relieved it’s not Jace you married in Vegas that he’s willing to believe anything. I don’t think your siblings will be nearly as easy to convince.”
He has a point. But also… “So what? Who cares what Cash thinks? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even believe in love anymore, so I’m not sure what we could do to convince him.”
“But we need to try, Pres.”
“Why?” I fold my arms across my chest, feeling defensive. I always get this way when it comes to Cash. I shouldn’t have to prove myself to him, even if it’s over a fake husband.
“Because if he doubts us, he may start looking for a reason.”
Fuck. He’s right. Cash is one of those people who is never satisfied until he has an answer, and if he doesn’t get one, he’ll just keep digging and digging. “The bar’s finances,” I say under my breath. All the family’s businesses are linked. “He could access them without much difficulty.”
And then this whole thing would be for nothing.
“So what do you propose?”
His hand slides up to my ankle, all the way to my calf muscle, and gives it a gentle squeeze. I think it’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, but my brain doesn’t see it as one. I swallow and try to look as unfazed as he does. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m melting into a puddle on the floor.
Is it hot in here?
“What if instead of telling them all together, we told them individually? And we start with the one who is most likely going to join our team.”
“Our team?” I don’t even bother hiding the amusement in my tone.
“Yeah, you know, like when you watch one of those sappy movies with a love triangle, and everyone is either Team Broody Man or Team Emo Guy?”
I let out a laugh. “You would so be the Emo Guy.”
“What? I can pull off broody. Just give me a little time to practice your brother’s scary scowl, and I’ll have it down.”
“Okay, Mr. Tall, Ginger, and Brood-ish,” I joke. “But you’re getting your terminology wrong. What I think you’re looking for is someone who is most likely to ‘ship’ us or root for us.”
“Okay, yeah. We need that,” he agrees, his hands now just splayed across my calves.
His wedding ring glints under the light, and I try not to stare, mostly because I don’t want him to notice and pull away.
“We tell that sibling first and then work our way up, basically creating a support team as we go.”
“That’s—”
“Genius? Brilliant?”
“A lot of work,” I finally say. “We’re going to have to be very convincing, not just once, but several times.”
“Yes.”
“Which means a lot of physical contact. A lot of hand-holding and touching.”
His eyes bore into mine. “Yes.”
Suddenly, his hand feels scorching hot on my calf. It moves the slightest inch north, and I suck in a breath, my body coming alive in a way it hasn’t since that day he pressed me against the car in my parents’ driveway.
I watch his throat bob. We stare at each other until suddenly he jumps up like his ass is on fire. “I should get ready for bed.”
I blink, feeling like some spell has just broken. “Yeah. Yeah, me too,” I say, looking up, but he’s already gone, disappearing down the hall.
Oh god, I think I’m falling for my fake husband.