18. Lauren
LAUREN
Like it or not, something had shifted between Lauren and James on that beach.
Lauren still wasn’t sure why she’d opened up about her family.
She never talked about her difficult childhood, knowing it would make people see her differently.
But instead of teasing or pitying, James had just nodded and shared his own history.
They’d spent the rest of the day on light conversation, both seeming to need a break from the emotional closeness. The next morning, they’d gone on a boat tour before returning to their suite for a relaxed afternoon. Now, it was time for dinner and another photo opportunity.
When she looked at James now, in his slacks and button-down, she no longer saw an entitled jerk. She saw a guy who was much more like her than either of them had ever expected.
“My lady,” James said, holding out an arm. “Shall we board?”
They were standing in front of an enormous yacht.
It was at least three stories high, with numerous decks and verandas.
James had explained that the boat belonged to a friend who’d insisted on lending it to them for the evening.
The drive to the marina had been full of teasing and jokes, but now, Lauren felt rather serious.
“I suppose,” she said.
“Don’t worry.” James squeezed her hand. “We’ll stay close to the shore so that reporters can get pictures.”
“Right.” Lauren paused. “Actually, that’s not what I was worried about.”
“No?”
“I was thinking… No. It’s silly.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
Lauren looked up at James, eyes dancing. “How much product do you put in your hair that not a single strand has moved despite the wind?”
James rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh, as he led Lauren up the gangway.
“Wow, and here I thought you were going to share something real.”
“We had plenty of ‘real’ at the beach yesterday, didn’t we?” Lauren pointed out.
“No, I don’t think so.” James looked down at her. “I don’t get a lot of realness in my life. It was nice, and I wouldn’t mind talking more.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see what I can do.”
They reached the main deck of the yacht, where a member of staff in a white uniform led them upstairs to the top deck. A single round table, covered in rose petals, waited for them. Lauren whistled softly. The roses, the sunset, and the view of the bay made this exceptionally romantic.
“Do you like it?” James asked.
“I do.”
“And people said I could never be romantic.” He grinned at her as he pulled out a chair for her. His fingertips brushed the part of her back left bare from her dress as he pushed it in. “It turns out, all it took was a fake marriage.”
“It is kind of ironic that the most romantic thing you’ve ever planned was fake,” Lauren admitted. They both laughed.
A waiter arrived with a cart of beverages.
“I think I’d like a margarita,” Lauren suggested. “Since we are in Mexico.”
“Agreed. Two, please,” James said.
“Of course.” The waiter took the cart back and returned moments later with two margarita glasses lined with rock salt and sporting sliced limes. “We have a fixed menu set up by your friend,” he explained. “I’ll bring out the first course momentarily.”
“So,” Lauren said, leaning forward when he had disappeared. “Which friend likes you enough to lend you a yacht with staff and food?”
James chuckled. “Diego Rodriguez. We go way back, but kind of fell out of touch. He was always encouraging me to settle down and get married, especially after he met his wife, Esperanza. He was overjoyed when he found out that I’d gotten married and insisted on helping out with the honeymoon.”
“That’s sweet of him,” Lauren said.
“It is.”
The first course, salads, arrived moments later.
They both dug in, though Lauren’s gaze was repeatedly drawn to the myriads of colors lighting up the sky during the sunset.
The streaks of orange and purple and pink reminded her of a painting, especially when it was reflected on the dancing ocean waves.
A light breeze blew across the deck, very welcome after the heat of the day.
“So,” Lauren said as they ate. “You said you wanted a serious conversation.”
“It doesn’t have to be serious.”
“Here’s an idea.” She grinned. “I’ll let you choose. Silly or serious? Then I’ll ask you a question in that category.”
“Only you would add rules to a dinner conversation,” James said with a laugh.
“So, you don’t want to play?”
“No, no. I do. Even though we agreed that we have too many rules.” He winked. “Let’s start with serious.”
Lauren considered. “How old were you when you had your first kiss?”
James laughed again. “Now I feel like we’re playing truth or dare.”
Lauren met his eyes, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Answer the question… unless you’re chicken.”
“Fine.” James smiled at her reference. “I was fifteen. The girl was Amanda Peterson, who was in geometry with me. We met for a tutoring session. I don’t remember who offered to help whom, but one thing led to another. What about you?”
“Oh no.” Lauren shook her head, grinning broadly. “I’m not falling into that trap. I’d like a silly question, please.”
“Okay…” James seemed to consider, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Then he nodded. “If you were a bird, which would you be?”
“Hm. An owl, I think.”
“Because you’re smart?”
“Thank you.” Lauren nodded in over-the-top graciousness. “But no. Because I like to stay up late at night. Your turn.”
“Silly.”
“What’s the most embarrassing thing you did as a child?”
“That’s way more serious than silly!” James protested. “But fine. Once, when I was about six years old, I got stuck on the monkey bars at school. The fire department had to come rescue me.”
“What?” Lauren giggled. “Why couldn’t your teachers help?”
“I was too scared.” James laughed, too. “I clung onto the bars like a terrified monkey. They couldn’t pull me off. Finally, a fireman came with a cherry picker and persuaded me to climb over. He had to carry me.”
“Wow. That’s so much better than I was expecting. I’ll take a serious question, please.”
“Would you ever want to live in Canada again?”
Lauren considered that for a long moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. I love the life I’ve built in San Valentino, and that’s where I want to be. I’d like to visit Ottawa more, though. I try to go once a year or so to see my siblings and parents, but it’s hard to get away.”
“We can go together,” James suggested. Lauren met his gaze.
“Yeah. I’d like that. As long as you aren’t planning to make too many jokes about the frozen north.”
“Me? Never.” James put a hand to his heart. “I’m a perfect gentleman.”
“So you say.”
The next courses arrived, and they dug into specialty tacos filled with everything from fried fish to cactus pads to barbecued pork. The taco fillings exploded everywhere, making them both laugh as they continued playing their game.
Lauren found out that James had played the cello all through high school, that he loved Naruto as a teenager, that he’d always dreamed of visiting Alaska during winter to see the Northern Lights, and that he hated the smell of hospitals.
In return, she told him that she loved Harry Potter, would love to live in a cottage right on the beach, had never managed to eat a whole hamburger in one go, and wanted to someday hike the PCT.
Talking like this was nicer than she’d expected. She found herself laughing just as much as she was serious. In fact, the more they talked, the more she forgot that this was all pretend. Lauren almost felt like she and James really were a couple on a honeymoon, exploring a new place and each other.
Perhaps that was why, after the dessert course of sopapillas, when James stood and asked her to dance, her heart fluttered.
“There’s no music,” she protested when he held out his hand.
“I’m sure this yacht has some,” James told her.
He disappeared and returned a few minutes later as the faint strains of a pop song came over the speakers.
He held out his hand again, and this time, Lauren took it.
He pulled her to her feet and up against him, one hand resting on her waist as his fingers wrapped around hers. They began to sway.
It was almost too romantic. The stars twinkled above, the music crooned through the speakers, and James’s hands were firm but gentle.
Lauren tilted her head back to meet his eyes and saw that he was looking down at her.
There was something inscrutable in his expression.
Then, in a heartbeat, Lauren recognized the look from their makeshift wedding ceremony.
“James,” she whispered.
“Yes?”
But Lauren wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, so she just continued to sway.
There was something growing in her chest, a kind of warmth.
She wanted to tell James that this marriage meant something to her.
She wanted to explain that he’d taken up a place in her life she’d never known to be empty.
She wanted to tell him that she wanted more.
Whatever they were — friends, rivals, husband and wife, something in between — he was important to her. And based on the way he was looking down at her, she was almost certain he felt the same way.
And then. James leaned down, his lips parting.
Lauren’s body responded even before he’d touched her.
She lifted onto her toes, meeting him in the middle.
Fireworks exploded between them as James pulled her closer, kissing her tenderly.
Lauren’s knees went weak. Her heart raced.
It no longer mattered that they were on a yacht, under the stars.
It no longer mattered that they were only pretending to be married.
The only thing that mattered was this moment, long and beautiful and shining.
James’s lips were on hers, gentle yet passionate, and his hands were on her waist. She was aware of every point at which their skin brushed.
She was aware of every breath they took and every soft sound James made.
And then a camera flashed. Startled, Lauren pulled away and squinted through the darkness. On the shore, a photographer with a zoom lens lowered his camera with a smile.
Reality came crashing back in, as sudden and illuminating as the flash. James had danced with her, had kissed her, because they were trying to prove to the world that they were married. It wasn’t because he cared about her. It wasn’t because he’d wanted to kiss her.
All that had just been built up in her head, while James was just following their plan.
Lauren suddenly felt exhausted, but she couldn’t let James know she was disappointed. She pasted a smile on her face.
“That was a good idea,” she said brightly. “We needed to put on a show.”
James opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he nodded once. “A show. Right.”
“Shall we head back to the resort?” Lauren asked in the same overly bright tone. “I’m feeling tired, and I think I want to turn in.”
Of course, turning in meant sharing a bed with James. After how much Lauren had gotten swept up in the kiss, that would be a challenge. She could do it, though. At least they were friends — she was sure of that.
“Of course,” James said. “We can go back. We got what we came for, right?”
“Right,” Lauren said.
“And don’t worry.” He smiled. “There will be more events tomorrow. Have you ever gone cliff diving?”
Lauren fell into step beside him as they headed for the stairs.
“No, and I hope I never do.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. I’m sure the cliffs are small.”
“Right.” They paused to thank the staff before disembarking and heading for the car. Lauren tried to focus on the friendship she and James now shared, not on the disappointment she felt that it wasn’t more.
Still, she was ready for the week to be over, or at least for a break. This was getting confusing.