How To Fake A Husband (Emerald Creek #5)

Chapter 1 Noah

one

Noah

“I’m sorry, Noah. I didn’t see it coming. Nobody did.” My lawyer’s voice is tinny in my earpiece, yet it sucker-punches me. “You’ve got four months left.”

I take a deep breath and nudge my glasses back up, swallowing the expletives she doesn’t deserve. Messenger and all that.

Although Tamberly’s the lawyer who assured me we had a 99 percent chance of winning in court, so maybe she needs to feel the pain?

But that’s not who I am. Instead, I keep it all in, my stomach twisting in agony, my head pounding, as I focus my gaze outside my bedroom window. On the gardens of Lilyvale, our family home, and on Emerald Creek, the town our ancestors founded—everything we’re about to lose.

“They don’t care that it violates my… rights?

Or something?” I bite back. We’ve had this discussion countless times.

The family trust requiring me to marry by a certain age is antiquated at best. It should be dismissed as the insulting remnant of a time when deeds were written with a pen dipped in ink.

We challenged it after Dad passed. Losing probate stung, but the appeal looked solid. I wasn’t worried.

“I’m assuming none of your siblings are married or about to be?” Tamberly continues in a shaky voice. When I merely grunt, she adds, “I’m taking this to the Vermont Supreme Court, file a stay…” Her words blur into a buzzing in my ears.

My disbelief leaves place to something akin to panic. It’s too late for more legal action. Four months from now, when I turn thirty-two unmarried, our home, the orchards, the plumbing business—everything the Callaways own—will be controlled by Dad’s third wife. His gold-digging widow.

Knowing her, everything will be sold off to the highest bidder by Christmas, the cash financing her lavish lifestyle far away from Emerald Creek.

And the store I run, our family’s pride, will belong to the town, which probably seemed like a good idea on paper decades ago, but not in the age of minimarts.

Because not a month goes by that a developer doesn’t offer us a fortune for Lilyvale and its surrounding gardens, bulldozers at the ready to erase our childhood home and make place for cookie-cutter vacation rentals.

Not a week ends that a chain hasn’t approached us to turn the store into its umpteenth glass-and-metal, in-your-face ugliness stocked with mass-produced shit and self-checkout horror stations in the heart of our historic town.

I can almost see Gail’s drool hitting the floor as the smell of our impending blood awakens her true instincts.

“Noah?” my younger sister, Lane, calls from the hallway.

I interrupt Tamberly. “Any publicity on this yet?” I ask in a hushed tone. I’ve managed to keep my siblings in the dark so they can live their lives without pressure. I don’t need this to blow up now. Not until I’ve tried everything.

I’m the eldest by far. Griff was born when I was seven, Beck when I was nine, and Lane when I was ten.

I’ve always been their protector—part nature, part the way life shaped me.

When my birth mother walked out, it was just Dad and me, and I grew up faster than my years.

Then Dad met the woman I came to call Mom, and life was sweet—until she died way too young, and Dad nearly lost his mind.

By then, both parents had praised how protective I was, reminding me that with age came responsibility.

So when it all fell apart, I stepped up and parented my siblings.

That shit that’s about to hit us? It’s mine alone to carry.

“A good chunk of the details were filed under seal, and so far, nobody seems interested,” Tamberly answers, offering me a shred of reassurance.

She offers to discuss our options, but before I can lash out that these are insultingly narrow, the grandfather clock in the dining room starts striking.

Slow yet inexorable, it reminds me that life goes on for others, and I need to show up.

“I’m actually going to a wedding,” I say as I button my shirt, the irony not lost on me.

“Not mine,” I add bitterly before ending the call.

I glance at my open door as impatient footsteps resonate down the hallway.

Lane barges into my bedroom. “Who was that?” she asks as she presses a deep red tie against my shirt.

“No one,” I answer with a forced smile.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Oooh… something you’re not telling me?”

Where do I start? “Nothing like that, no.” I wish. “It was the lawyer.”

“Boring.” Smoothing the tie with the back of her hand, she says, “This one was Dad’s. He’d want you to wear it. Look good for the town.”

Today is the wedding of the town’s only mechanic and our pastry chef, with the whole town invited to celebrate Colton and Kiara. I’d been looking forward to it—until five minutes ago.

“What did she want? Her name’s Tamberly, right?” Lane squints at me. “You seem worried.”

I shrug for Lane’s benefit. “Nothing. Just… some tax shit.”

“Let that go for today,” she tells me. “Stop grinding your teeth, and show your dimples.”

I focus my gaze on my reflection in the mirror as I try to adjust the tie. “Show my what now?”

She snorts. “Put a smile on that handsome face of yours.”

Oh, that. I stretch my mouth for my sister’s benefit.

“You know what Dad used to say,” Lane continues. She comes to my rescue as I struggle tying the knot around my neck. “Appearances might not be everything, but they’re darn close.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lane tilts her head like I’m a little slow.

“It means it’s important how people perceive you.

Also, you’re in the wedding party, and I know they said no dress code, but that’s bull.

It’s your job to look good up there with them.

So you make them look good.” She tugs on the tie, tightening the noose around my neck.

My tie adjusted, I walk to the open window and force a deep breath down my lungs.

Lane joins me. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” she sighs. Our hometown shines in all its understated beauty today, a cruel reminder of everything my family is about to lose.

“Our ancestors knew what they were doing when they built Lilyvale right here,” she continues, her words bruising me further.

She whips out her phone, turns it to video mode, and starts narrating like the journalist she wants to become.

“Situated at the edge of the Northeast Kingdom in Vermont, Emerald Creek is nestled in a bend of the eponymous river. Centered around a village of Federalist buildings, Georgian and Victorian homes, a white steeple church, a Green, and tree-lined streets, the town sprawls over acres and acres of farmland, pastures, and woodlands, all the way and including Emerald Lake and its upscale resort.” She turns her phone off.

“What was that?” Another wave of panic hits me. If Lane is writing about Emerald Creek, her timing sucks.

“Nothing, just can’t help myself.” Taking a deep breath, she yells, “Beck! Time to go!”

Her Irish twin exits the barn he turned into his living quarters as I close the windows.

How will I tell him that his whole universe is about to fall apart?

He and I are the only ones to have stayed in Emerald Creek, and this town is our world.

Just this morning, Beck was telling me about his ideas to start a landscaping business, the clients he’s approached, the people he wants to hire.

Like me, he breathes and lives this town.

Heartbroken for him, I follow Lane downstairs right in time to see a car I don’t recognize pull up the driveway.

If this is another realtor, I might actually punch them.

But as I step out the door, Lane screeches, “Griiiiiff!” and throws herself into the arms of the bearded man who extricates himself from his car.

“Well look who decided to show up,” Beck mumbles, fists on his hips as he settles next to me in a wide-legged stance. “Did you know about this?”

“Nuh-uh.” Any other time, I would’ve been pissed that Griff didn’t bother to call from the road. Today? I can hardly give anyone lessons in family etiquette.

Beck shrugs. “I guess it’s his home too.”

Not for long. I can’t help but check the passenger seat. Empty. Shit.

Needing a mental breather, I glance at my youngest brother. “You clean up well.”

He runs his gaze up and down me. “Runs in the family.” He hops down a couple of steps, to Griff who’s locking his car. “Yo! You’ll unload later, it’s time to go.”

I have to give it to Griff. He does look happy to see us. Beck and I each get a warm hug, and his smile extends to his eyes.

“I can’t stay the night,” he informs us.

Beck visually deflates.

“Boo,” Lane whines, then jumps. “Selfie!” She places herself in front of Griff, frames Lilyvale behind us, and snaps the first photo of the four of us since… maybe a decade?

“We should get going,” she says after she’s taken half a dozen shots.

We fall into step with her.

“Closed today?” Griff asks as we walk past the family store.

I nod. “Gave everyone the day off.” I worked alone this morning in case someone had an emergency. From diapers to animal feed to our deli counter and greeting cards, we’ve been supplying the town with everything they might need for the past century and a half.

As we turn onto The Green, the four of us naturally line side by side. Lane links her arms with Griff and me. “I almost forgot the feeling of walking with some of the best-looking men around,” she says as we return the smiles and greetings of the townspeople, all headed in the same direction.

“Nah, that’s all me,” Beck says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I don’t have the heart or energy to rib him for his customary arrogance. Or to point out that half the glances his way are wary, even if his troublemaker years are behind us.

By the time we reach the park where the wedding is set up, Griff, Beck, and Lane have scattered to meet up with their friends.

I take this moment alone to wrangle the messed-up thoughts in my head, organize them in their little boxes, and let that shit go for today.

There’s guilt, for sure. But it’s the powerlessness that’s close to enraging.

Lane is right though, appearances are important, and supposedly there’s something I can do about my dimples that’s not a total fuck-up.

I’m drawn to a glint of blue-streaked hair lifting in the breeze.

Cassandra, who used to babysit me before Dad married Mom, was always a calming presence in my life.

Rumor is she’s witchy, and that may be true.

Right now she seems lost in contemplation of the whole town slowly gathering to celebrate the wedding she’ll be officiating.

Sensing my arrival, she turns around and opens her arms to take me in an affectionate hug. “What are we going to do with you?” she asks in my neck.

Not what I expected, but hell.

She’s right.

“You’ll figure it out,” she says when she lets me go.

I struggle to meet her gaze, but when I do, all I find is understanding. My glasses fog up a little.

I’ve never talked about the Callaway trust with her, but she’s acting like she knows.

“On a lighter note, who let you walk out of your house wearing this?” She pulls on the tie Lane chose for me.

“What’s wrong with it? It belonged to Dad.”

She purses her lips in a sad smile. “Didn’t mean it that way, honey. But…” Her swift fingers loosen the noose around my neck. “This isn’t your look. Bend your head for me.” Taking my tie off, she rolls it carefully into a purple canvas bag, next to her officiant guide.

A small strip of blue silk shimmers in her fingers as she pushes my jacket off my shoulders and lifts my shirt collar.

I trust Cassandra on a lot of things, but I’m kind of on the fence about this one. “A bow tie, seriously? Like the glasses aren’t enough.”

Her focus is now on my throat area, and she pushes my chin up.

“Trust me.” Cassandra owns a clothing shop in town.

To be honest, I’m told it’s mainly lingerie, not that I’ve ever been inside.

Point is, it’s possible she might be a little more knowledgeable about fashion than Lane.

Or not. But I know better than to challenge her decision right now.

Once she’s done, she folds my shirt collar down, pulls my jacket back in place, then takes a step back. “Much, much better,” she says, reaching over to give the bow tie a perfunctory tug. “Now you’re ready.”

Ready?

I have four months to fix the mess we’re in, and there’s only one way I can think of.

I’ve never felt so not ready.