Chapter 4 #3
“Because you can help yourself by helping me.” He puts his foot out and Pip butts his head against his toes.
Then, he leaps back into Ash’s lap, his hope for pets reignited.
“Do you need another reason, all these obstacles you say there are aside? And I wouldn’t be that shitty to you.
I need to be married for at least a year. ”
He’s not wrong. I can do this for completely selfish reasons if it means getting what I want. Right? I need to get real. I’m not going to meet and fall in love with someone in six months. I can hardly get a text back.
My stomach twists and tightens. Could I pull off being in love with Ash?
I scan his face as he runs a hand over his short-cropped hair. Even looking at him makes me warm up and I can’t figure out if it’s embarrassment or attraction.
But I still don’t think I can’t fake it. Yeah, most of my beef with him happened way back in high school, but something about him taking my first kiss—which meant a lot to me—and being my first humiliation from a man is something I can’t shake.
Add the whole wedding incident on top of that, and the odds of me faking this well are shooting down.
“The obstacles aren’t insignificant,” I say. “I have to seem in love. And everyone is going to wonder how we randomly decided to get married right after I learned about this whole inheritance. And Waylon is going to flip.”
“He won’t be happy.” He sighs and Pip sniffs his breath. The little weirdo. “But what’s he going to do? He’s just your friend, not your husband. Or brother.”
“Speaking of brothers, Jeremiah is going to cut your balls off.”
Jeremiah is friendly…mostly. Except for when it comes to my boyfriends, who he has to thoroughly grill to assess their worthiness before mellowing out.
He didn’t like Troy, but he tolerated him. Barely. Probably because Troy is inoffensive on the surface.
But Ash? Jeremiah is going to have a lot to say about Ash.
“He can try. We can make them believe.” Ash shrugs. Again, his confidence is grating.
“You’re acting like that’s easy,” I say. “If our brothers don’t believe me, my cousin might not believe me. And then she can contest the will.”
Ash puts his hand down for Pip again. Pip loves basically everyone, so he goes straight in.
“Plus,” I add, “we need a good story.”
“What I said earlier works. We connected around Thanksgiving and dated long distance. Maybe you visited me in Nashville a few times.” He brightens. “It’s perfect—we kept it a secret because we knew everyone would freak out.”
I bite my bottom lip. “That would work if we were dating, but marriage? There’s no way they’d believe us.”
“Weave the lie with some truth.” He glances down at Pip, who’s purring and making biscuits on his lap like they’ve known each other forever.
“We can say we’ve been together for the past six months and know it’s real, so we’re getting married because of our inheritances.
It would still be a marriage based on ‘true love.’ But maybe we just got married sooner than we would have otherwise. ”
Another good, somewhat believable lie. I run my hands over my face and down the sides of my neck.
“That could work,” I say slowly.
“But you still don’t like me.” He seems amused by this, rather than upset, which only irritates me.
“I mean, our last conversation almost ended with me slapping you across the face, so…”
“But we almost kissed, too.” He sits back, his smug smile growing. Pip abandons him and hops onto my lap instead, like he knows he’s needed.
“Because you somehow didn’t recognize it was me. Despite knowing me for literally decades.” I stare at Pip, who slow-blinks back at me.
“To be fair, it had been six or seven years since we saw each other at Thanksgiving. Your hair was completely different back then, and so were your glasses.” He swallows. “And I’ve never seen you in a dress like that.”
Oof, now I remember why I almost kissed him. His tone weasels past all my defenses. He’s always had a lazy confidence that pulls me in. And those eyes. I never understood “eye-fucking” as a concept until he did it to me.
Then again, he’s a hot guy who played a hot instrument in a semi-popular band. He’s probably used to doing whatever he wants and having women throw themselves at him. I’m just one of many.
But had it really been six or seven years since he’d shown up at a family gathering when my family was also there? That’s longer than I thought. We probably missed each other, with him leaving the house the moment the main festivities ended.
“Anyway, it could work,” he says with a shrug. “All we have to do is convince people that we’re in love.”
“Yeah, that’s all we have to do.” I roll my eyes.
“Are you in, then?” he asks.
I swallow. What choice do I have, honestly? Swipe on some apps, hope I meet someone I see myself falling in love with, then broach the topic of needing to be married extremely soon to get the thing I’ve been working toward my whole life?
Or marry this hot asshole who’s more than willing to go along with this right off the bat?
He’s not my true love. He never will be. But maybe after we get through this year and I own the hotel outright, we can split up and I can find the man I’m meant to be with.
I have less than a month before Danika graduates, so if I’m in now, I have to be in.
“I’m in,” I say. He visibly relaxes. “But we need a solid plan to make this work.”