Elliot #2
“Believe me, I’m fully aware,” I say, surprised by how much her acknowledgment of my progress affects me. As much as it shouldn’t, her praise means something to me. And the truth is, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her—something else I don’t want to admit.
Fuck.
“And what about Vinnie? Would he believe that you’d be engaged to someone?”
Dilynne looks away from me. “Yes. He would.”
“Really?”
Her hands fly in the air. “Yes, okay?”
My back hits the booth behind me. “Jesus, no need to fucking yell.”
“Well, stop acting like me ever wanting to get married is such a fucking shock!”
“Uh, it fucking is, Dilynne! It’s…” I wave my hand toward her. “You!”
Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms over her chest and continues to avoid eye contact. “Oh, trust me. I know all about how you feel about me.”
My head rears back. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She sighs, drops her arms, and finally meets my gaze again. “Look, we’re getting off topic.”
“No shit, and we’re fucking fighting like we always do. How on earth are we ever going to convince people that we like each other, Dilynne? Especially enough to agree to marry one another?”
“We act. Trust me, I can pretend very convincingly if it means I don’t have to think about something or someone else.” She trails her finger along the top of my hand, teasing me.
And there goes my dick again.
“I, uh…”
Come on, Elliot. You’ve been fucking pretending that this woman doesn’t make you hard for months. What’s another six weeks?
“Wh—what about our friends? Our family?” I say, fighting the sensation her touch is sending across my skin before pulling my hand away from her.
“They can know the truth,” she says, popping her shoulder. “In fact, I think it will be better if they do because they can help sell it.”
Something dawns on me. “My father won’t agree to that. Hell, he’s the reason that Tori is back, Dil. He’s the one that wants me to hear her out.”
Her bottom lip rolls between her teeth again. “Yeah, you’re right. Then we’re gonna have to sell it to him, too.”
“I—” Sighing, I blow out a breath and push my hand through my hair. “I don’t fucking know…”
“Stop being a fucking baby, and just trust me, will you?”
I arch a brow at her. “Insulting me? Really? That’s how you’re trying to persuade me to agree to this?”
“Well, trying to reason with you isn’t working.”
“Because this doesn’t seem like a logical plan. Being engaged, Dilynne? Only a year after I was left by my fiancée? I’m not sure people are going to buy it.”
“Then what’s your plan to get rid of Tori, huh? Because newsflash, Elliot…you and I both know firsthand what that girl is capable of. She already tricked you into thinking she changed once.”
I bristle at that. “Give me some credit. I have no desire to allow her back in my life. I haven’t spent all of these months in therapy for nothing.”
“Scars can fade, but they’re still there, Elliot.” She points to the center of her chest. “Wouldn’t you agree? And seeing Tori might stir some feelings up for you that you thought you’d dealt with. Letting her think she has any chance of getting you back is only going to fuck with you too.”
Our eyes are locked as her words resonate, and in that moment, I realize that Dilynne isn’t just talking about my scars. She’s referring to her own too.
Groaning, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
“Just think of how fun it’s going to be to piss off Tori,” Dilynne adds, smiling from ear to ear.
The corner of my mouth tips up. “True. Is that part of your motivation for doing this too?”
“Um, duh. I’m hoping I can make flames come out of her ears at some point. That’s the ultimate goal.”
“And Vinnie? What do you want from him?”
Her diabolical smile falls as she grows serious. “Regret,” she answers honestly, making my pulse spike.
I want to prod her more, but if there’s one thing this woman has clearly shown me this evening, it’s that she’s keeping the extent of her scars close to the vest. And for once, I understand that more than I should.
“Fine.”
Her satisfied smirk reappears. “This is going to be so much fun, Grumpzilla.”
“Get that out of your system now. Calling your fiancé that won’t sell this.”
“Why not? Just because we supposedly tolerate each other now doesn’t mean that our entire dynamic has to dissolve. I mean, maybe it was your grumpiness that made me see you in a different light.”
“Or my grumpiness made the ice around your heart finally thaw?”
“Ice Queen? Really?”
I tilt my head at her. “Nah. Ice Queen doesn’t really fit you. Hades is more appropriate.”
“Fuck you, Thorne.”
“You wish,” I fire back.
Dilynne gags. “Gross. No thank you. I don’t need an STD.”
“But you’re the one with syphilis, remember?”
She glares at me. “Oh, trust me. I haven’t forgotten about that little stunt.”
“You sure? Because you were quick to ask me to be your fake fiancé…”
She leans forward in her seat. “Out of desperation only. Yours, that is.”
I match her body language, leaning forward as well. The faint smell of grease and flowers hits my nose, such a bold contrast, which makes sense for such a dynamic person. “The only thing that I’m going to be desperate for is this arrangement to end.”
Dilynne huffs out a laugh. “Well, that makes two of us. But who knows? Maybe this will work out better than we imagine?”
From your lips to God’s ears, woman—because the only thing I can see happening is one hell of an epic disaster.