Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Audrey
After last night’s kiss, Liam and I decided to watch a movie—Die Hard—instead of discussing our arrangement. Though, while watching Bruce Willis’ second best movie (the first being The Fifth Element), we got to know a little more about each other.
And by knowing each other, I mean the adult version of us. Even though I was trying to concentrate all my attention on the barefoot man trying to save his wife, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Liam. My mind still reeling from the intensity of our kiss.
We both agree Die Hard is its own genre and might be the best romantic comedy for the holidays. Okay, he said it’s the best Christmas-action movie, and we conclude that it’s the best Christmas-action-romantic-comedy movie. There’s romance, comedy, and action—during Christmas. At least we can compromise and also have a few things in common, and that’s important, right?
See . . . No drama unlike Cheating Ben. Who I barely knew because he only sold me the online version of himself, the one he uses to pick up women.
But back to Liam. If anyone asks me what his favorite movie is, the answer is simple: Die Hard. Mine . . . there are too many to choose from, and it’s more about my mood. Then, there’s what he eats for breakfast: coffee, black, with a bowl of fruit and granola. If not, a green smoothie—loaded with protein.
Today, he had to make an exception since the hotel couldn’t accommodate his request. Not sure what he tried to order though. I’m pretty sure that they have fruit and granola as a staple, but for some reason he didn’t even try to figure out how to get his regular breakfast.
Instead, he ate the same as me: poached eggs and fruit with a side of bacon—all the bacon.
Afterward, we headed to rent a car for the remainder of the week. In case either one of us needs to run away from our family—that’ll probably be me. The family chat is still going off with texts. Mom has been messaging me directly too.
I wish she would stop blasting my phone with questions like: why didn’t you post the proposal on social media? He could’ve waited until the weekend to propose, don’t you think? Where are you hiding? And Mom is wondering if she needs to contact our pastor so he can marry you this weekend.
I would love to text something like, “No, thank you, Mom, this is a fake engagement. We’re pretending to tie the knot for the sake of Grandma Cohen.” However, I can’t because this is not only a pretense for Liam’s grandmother’s sake but also for my parents. So they think I’m in a happy relationship, like I’ve been telling them for the past year.
She’s been rewording some of the questions to see if maybe that’s what will convince me to respond to her. Plus she keeps adding more, like “Would you want to wear my wedding dress?”
Umm, nope. I won’t because I’m not getting married to Liam Cohen, Mom .
He’s Liam and I’m me and I shouldn’t want him. At all. Not even when he kisses like, like . . . a god? The memory of his mouth on mine sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but close my eyes, savoring the sensation.
The way his calloused fingers had cradled my face so tenderly, the scorching heat of his solid body pressed against me—it had felt . . . right. Natural. Like we were two pieces clicking perfectly into place. I bite my lip, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach.
But I have to stop thinking about that or of the moment when reality will come crashing down. If I fall for his charm, I’ll be destroyed. Look at what happened with Ben. The asshole used me for a year and though I’m so angry at him, I’ve yet to understand why my heart isn’t broken, just my pride.
Because you were not in love, a voice whispers from somewhere in my head.
I push away the treacherous thoughts and the rage. What happened with Ben will take time to assimilate and heal from, and Liam . . . Well, Liam is just pretend.
But it’s obvious that this fake engagement is a ticking time bomb, and I can’t afford to get caught in the blast radius when it inevitably explodes. My heart clenches at the thought of what might happen if we don’t do this right .
“Everything okay?” Liam’s deep voice rumbles beside me, far too close. I glance over at him, his focus on the road as we drive to our parent’s house. The sight of him, so handsome and familiar, sends a pang of want through me.
Stop right there Audrey Elizabeth. What is wrong with you? Liam isn’t hot. He’s not sexy—not at all.
And maybe this is just some glitch since I’m still recovering from the lack of sleep from Monday or the mess this fake engagement created yesterday or . . . I won’t even continue to think why these thoughts are occurring. That’s a good enough excuse.
I paste on a bright smile, waving my phone. “Just my mom being . . . Well Mom. You know how she gets when she wants to celebrate something—like her daughter’s engagement or better yet, her wedding.” I force a laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but even to my own ears, it sounds strained.
He huffs a laugh. “That I do.”
As we come to a red light, he reaches out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. His knuckles skim my flushed cheek, and I can’t help but lean into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort it provides. “Don’t let her overwhelm you. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”
Fun. Right. Pretending to be deliriously in love with your brother’s best friend while battling inconvenient emotions that kiss and the nearness to him are creating.
I’m having a total blast.
This is a lot better than any theme park in the entire world.
Yeah, so fucking fun. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way my heart races at his proximity.
For the sake of everyone I nod, plastering a grin on my face. “Of course. Fun. That’s what we’re here for.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, a harsh contradiction to the sweet warmth of his touch.
And as much fun as I’m supposed to have, I can’t help but add, “With all these questions she’s asking . . . I think she’s too excited about our upcoming nuptials.”
Liam doesn’t say anything, so I continue, “Mom is going to be heartbroken when we break up.” My voice is small, barely above a whisper. The guilt is eating me alive, gnawing at my insides like a ravenous beast. “Or worse, they’ll be so angry when they catch on to the lie. Max is right, this is a disaster in the making.”
“Aud, you need to stop giving me a list of reasons why this won’t work or why we should stop,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. He reaches over, his hand finding mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I can’t help but cling to the comfort it provides. “We’re past that. This is the part where we just make it happen and hope for the best. Also, wouldn’t it be fun to prove Max wrong?”
I groan, my head falling back against the headrest. My mind races with doubts and fears, but I know he’s right. We’ve come up with a solid story and it’ll be over soon.
Liam parks the car in front of his parents’ house, a safer place than mine. He gets out, walking around to my side and opening the passenger door for me. His hand extends, an invitation and a promise. I take it, my fingers intertwining with his as he helps me out of the car. The simple gesture feels so natural, so right, that it takes my breath away.
We walk toward his house, our hands still clasped together. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but marvel at how perfectly our hands fit together, like two puzzle pieces meant to be connected. As we approach the front door, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that flutter in my stomach like a swarm of butterflies.
Liam glances at me, his eyes searching mine. Those deep, soulful eyes that seem to see straight into my heart. “Ready?” He presses a lingering kiss to my temple, his lips soft and gentle against my skin.
Breathe, Audrey. This is all for show . . . Isn’t it? I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my racing heart. But even as I tell myself that this is just an act, I can’t help but wonder if the heart palpitations and butterflies in my stomach are more than just the nerves of getting caught. If my reactions to Liam could mean a lot more.
I nod, a small smile playing on my lips. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
He scoffs. “Somehow I don’t believe you, but remember, I’m right here with you. We have a story which is perfect and a united front.”
“United front. You’re with me,” I repeat, hoping that it’s enough not to have an anxiety attack while everyone begins to interrogate us.
I can do this, I repeat in my head. Sure, you can.
But in all seriousness I think it’s more like: You’re fucked, Audrey Elizabeth McCallister.