Chapter Four
Kaylee
There’s a knot forming between my stiff shoulder blades, and I can’t seem to stop bouncing my leg. Ever since Tristan pronounced us as a couple, I’ve been worried. Mark is watching our every move and my family is here. I’m going to have to lie to them and I hate the thought.
We’ve moved into the main room and are seated at a long table next to a window.
I’m hyperaware of Tristan on my right. He’s correct when he says he saved me from an awkward situation, and I appreciate he stepped in when he did, but I’m out of practice being casually intimate with a real boyfriend.
Pretending to have that kind of relationship with Tristan, a man I’m so attracted to, feels impossible.
Beneath the table, he places a hand on my knee, stopping my leg from bouncing. At the feel of his palm on my bare skin, a shiver runs down my spine, and I whip my head in his direction so fast I feel dizzy.
“Relax,” he whispers.
I look at him, stunned. Unlike me, he seems completely at ease, which he proves with a wink in my direction. “You seem a little on edge, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. That’s what he called me earlier. The term of endearment slips so easily from his lips, and hearing it feels way too good and natural. Like this thing between us is real.
Like the moment we shared just before Mark stormed away.
For a split second, I thought Tristan would kiss me.
Even the memory of that heated interaction causes my stomach to swoop with hope and desire.
My eyes flicker to his lips and when Tristan smirks, I’m sure my thoughts are imprinted on my forehead.
“I’m fine,” I lie, and his smirk merely widens.
To add to tonight’s stress, we are seated across the table from Mark and his date. I can feel his stare, sense that he’s looking at me. Knowing he’s probably trying to listen to our conversation, I decide to try out a cute nickname of my own on Tristan.
“… Babycakes?”
Babycakes? Where the hell did that come from?
Tristan laughs, and even though it’s at my expense, the sound hits me right in the center of my chest. It’s light and warm, and I like the way his eyes brighten and crinkle in the corners.
Thanks to a silly interaction, I find myself relaxing as I smile in return.
I’m not even embarrassed by my pitiful attempt at a cute nickname. I’m glad I amused him.
“I love your romantic nicknames,” he says, when he’s gotten his laughter under control. Despite the fact that this isn’t an intimate moment, I have the crazy urge to lean in and press a kiss to his lips. Which scares me because this is starting to feel like much more than a fake date.
“Swordfish?” a waiter asks, appearing at my side. I’m thankful for the distraction because I’m not sure how to handle the fluttering feeling in my chest.
“Yes, thank you,” I say. Tristan’s seafood pasta is placed in front of him, and it smells amazing.
“Still upset they didn’t have lobster?” he asks.
I grin and shake my head. “I’m so hungry I’m not sure it matters what they put in front of me. Yours looks delicious.”
“Would you like to try some?” Tristan doesn’t wait for my response before placing one muscle and a clam on the edge of my own plate.
From across the table, I hear Mark’s familiar sound of disapproval.
I didn’t realize just how judgmental he could be until I ended things.
Now, that tsking noise he makes with his tongue against the roof of his mouth brings back memories of him criticizing me for every small mistake I made during our two years together.
I wish I’d picked up on it and done something sooner rather than put up with his constant critiques.
I glance over, and there’s a dark look on his face that’s also familiar. His disdain along with his attention is completely focused on me.
“Problem?” I ask, my own irritation sounding louder than I’d meant it to be.
“Not at all,” he says, but that narrowing of his gaze says differently. “I just think it’s funny how some things never change.”
“What does that mean?” Even as I ask, I wonder why I’m engaging with him.
He shrugs. “Just that you never know what you want. You’re always changing your mind after you’ve already ordered.”
I blink. Seriously?
“And it’s not just about food. You’re fickle,” he mutters.
I hear a snicker and feel the stares of the others at the table. I flush with embarrassment, but I won’t let him belittle me.
Beside me, Tristan stiffens, but I place my hand on his muscular thigh and squeeze, letting him know I’ve got this.
I narrow my gaze at Mark. “Are you saying I have second thoughts about breaking up with you? Because I can assure you, I don’t.” I casually pat my lips with my napkin and treat him to a sickly-sweet smile.
Mark’s face grows red, and I regret my words. Not because they aren’t true, but because I don’t want to make a scene. Ashley, sitting nearby, leans over and whispers something to him that ends in a heated conversation before her fiancé shuts it down.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to my cousin, who shakes her head. I know she means it’s not my fault, but I feel bad.
“Look at you, putting a man in his place without breaking a sweat,” Tristan says quietly, and I slap his arm.
“Don’t encourage me. That could’ve turned into something ugly.” And I’d never forgive myself if I ruined any part of Ashley’s weekend.
Still, I can’t deny I’m also getting a little satisfaction from Mark’s obvious discomfort.
After the way he tore me down during the breakup, payback feels good.
And I have Tristan to thank for putting me in the position to do so.
If he wasn’t pretending to be my date, if I were here alone, I might not have the opportunity to put Mark in his place.
I feel someone behind me and tip my head to see my mother is standing. I pivot so I can face her.
“Kaylee, who is this man?” my mother asks, eyeing Tristan with an assessing gaze. I’m not sure how much of our conversation she’s overheard, but based on her pinched lips, it was enough.
“I’m Tristan Hayes,” he says, rising and holding out his hand for her to shake.
When she takes it, he flips her hand over and kisses the back in a move that makes me roll my eyes.
He’s such a flirt.
“The best man?” she asks, and I’m not surprised she recognizes the name since she helped handle the wedding programs.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with the most polite wording.
My mother smiles, her eyes shifting to me. “Oh, I like him, Kay.”
Me too, Mom. Me too. I merely smile.
“So, is this your boyfriend?” she asks.
The only thing more humiliating than being here alone would be getting caught lying about having a date, but I wouldn’t lie to my mom for my own sake. If I don’t keep up the pretense, however, I’ll humiliate myself and Tristan. And he’s gone out of his way to make this weekend easier for me.
“We’re new,” I say, not exactly answering her question, therefore not completely lying, either.
Tristan leans back, placing an arm along the back of my chair. “We’ve known each other through mutual friends, but we’ve just started getting to know one another better.” His words, like mine, aren’t exactly a lie, either.
For the next five minutes, my mom peppers Tristan with questions about himself. His hobbies, his job, his favorite football team. None of it gets very deep, and he’s a good sport, answering her questions and making small talk like it’s his job.
Finally, my dad comes over to get her for dinner, shakes Tristan’s hand, and leads her away.
Then, we eat, and the conversation around us flows easily.
I ignore Mark and Shannon across the table, and it doesn’t take long before I’m relaxed and enjoying myself.
Tristan plays the doting boyfriend so effortlessly I find myself falling into my own role of smitten girlfriend.
The chemistry between us grows stronger with each flirty interaction, to the point where it’s overwhelming.
I can’t seem to stop thinking about that potential kiss from earlier and hope there’s a chance for a real one later.
But my fantasy doesn’t stop there. Desire settles low in my belly, and my thighs clench as I imagine where that kiss might lead.
Would the spark between us rage out of control?
Would he grind against me? Touch my body with a senseless hunger that turns me into a puddle of satisfied goo?
Or is he a slow lover who takes his time to savor each moment?
Gah! I can’t do this. My body is tingling and sensitive and I reach for my glass of water, nearly knocking it over in the process.
“Are you okay?” Tristan asks.
I nod and take a long sip of cold water, hoping it helps quell the need my thoughts inspired.
Finally, our meal ends, and Ashley and Eric stand.
Where my cousin is petite and thin with platinum blonde hair, light blue eyes, and fair skin, Eric is tall and solidly built with black hair and dark brown eyes.
Despite those differences, they fit together in a way I’ve always been envious of.
Not in a mean or negative way, but in a lesson learned type of way.
In fact, their engagement is part of the reason I ended things with Mark last year.
Seeing how excited they were to start their lives together shined a harsh light on the fact that there were issues.
Mark was utterly unwilling to commit, not even to live together after a two-year relationship.
I’d always known he had issues, but I thought over time he’d come around.
It had taken the ease and softness of Ash and Eric’s relationship to show me I was too willing to settle.
I wasn’t taking into account the red flags with Mark.
His criticism. His temper, not that he’d ever taken his anger out on me physically.
But I didn’t want to walk on eggshells any longer, either.
Not to mention Mark is a workaholic. He hated getting emotional and wouldn’t share his feelings.
For a variety of reasons, he wasn’t the man I wanted to settle down with.
As Ashley gives a speech thanking all of us for traveling here for the wedding, I barely register what she’s saying.
I’m watching the way Eric looks at her; it’s like she hung the moon.
I want that. I want a man that not only feels deeply about me but isn’t afraid to show it to everyone.
I want a love like the one that Ashley and Eric share.
“To show our appreciation to the entire wedding party, Eric and I got gifts for our bridesmaids and groomsmen,” Ashley says.
Gifts are passed out, watches for the men and necklaces for the women. The necklace is a delicate silver chain with a pink, heart-shaped pendant. It’s simple but beautiful. I lift it out of the box, and Tristan reaches for it.
“Let me,” he says, opening the necklace with surprisingly deft fingers.
I only hesitate for a moment before turning and lifting my hair off my neck.
Tristan drapes the jewelry around me, and I feel his fingertips brush against my skin as he clasps the necklace.
My pulse races and goosebumps break out over my arms. The magnetic pull I feel toward him is a hum beneath my skin.
“So, Tristan,” Mark says as I turn back around in my chair. His voice is slurred and I wonder how many drinks he’s had. “What happened between you and that really hot model you dated earlier this year?”
My stomach drops. Annika was a model. Gorgeous in an ice-cold kind of way. If I were taking stock of the differences between us … I cut off those thoughts. Tristan isn’t my real boyfriend, and I’m good with who I am.
I glance at Tristan, who smiles at Mark as if he’s not getting to him, but there’s a slight tic of a muscle in his jaw that tells me he’s not happy with the turn in conversation.
“You mean Annika? We didn’t date for long.”
Mark shakes his head and lets out a low whistle. “Man, you must have been crazy to let a knockout like her go.”
At his words, conversation dies out around the table. It seems that everyone’s attention is on Mark and Tristan and, by extension, me. It’s awkward and uncomfortable.
Tristan relaxes, his eyes locked on Mark, and leans forward, elbows on the table. “I’m curious why you care. After all, you’re here with your girlfriend. What does my social life have to do with you?”
At that, Mark’s face becomes flushed and he turns to Shannon, who is already glaring at him.
“He makes a damn good point, Mark,” she snaps, tossing her cloth napkin onto the table as she surges to her feet.
With grace that must be difficult in this situation, she walks away from the table with her head held high, leaving Mark to fumble through getting to his feet and stumbling after her with an apology on his lips.
It’s petty, but I can’t help the glee surging through me because Mark had been trying to embarrass me by bringing up Tristan’s ex-girlfriend, but he only embarrassed himself instead.
Conversation resumes around the table, and I lean in close to Tristan, whispering in his ear, “You’re the best fake boyfriend ever.”
He chuckles but when he turns to me, his eyes dark and serious, my entire body is suddenly on fire. “You handle yourself well, Kaylee. I like how you don’t take his shit. I’m just backup for you.”
Warmth and pride slide through me at his words. Knowing Tristan admires how I handled Mark leaves me with a glow, inside and out.