Chapter 2
TWO
Scarlett
My mouth opens to respond, but no words come out. I’m sure I wouldn’t forget something this huge, even if I was dead tired.
Isabella’s face softens as she lays a hand on my arm. “This is what I always hoped for.”
I swallow down the rising knot in my throat. How am I going to tell this woman that Brendan did not, under any circumstances, ask me to be his date to his sister’s wedding? Because that’s one thing I’m sure of. And now I’m going to break her heart by letting her know it’s a mistake.
“Well, uh…thank you, but—”
“Has he mentioned the schedule yet?” she says, opening her purse. “We have an entire week of events at my brother-in-law, Rafael’s estate before the wedding. Spa days, shopping, and parties. You’ll come to these as well?” She looks as if she’s pinning all her hopes on my answer.
Even if Brendan had asked me, and I, for some unfathomable reason, had agreed, I wouldn’t be able to get away from our family business for an entire week.
Especially not with my parents taking a leave of absence.
Eli was supposed to help. That was the plan, anyway.
But somewhere between my brother’s last new idea and the one before that, helping the family stopped making the list.
So it’s just me. It’s always just me.
“Mrs. Marco—”
“Isabella,” she corrects me again.
“Isabella. I’m very sorry to tell you this…” I wince, trying not to make this any more awkward. “But there’s been some kind of mistake.”
“Mistake?” Her smile falters. “What mistake?”
The hopeful look on her face makes me hesitate. I can’t tell her I’m not the girl Brendan asked as his plus-one. That would be humiliating for both of us. So I go for another angle, one that’s just as truthful.
“Well, I can’t take time off from work.”
Gabriella slides in next to me. “I can cover for you here.” She discreetly bumps me with her elbow, and I shoot her a what are you doing? glare.
She raises her eyebrows, begging me to trust her.
I most definitely do not trust the woman who barely keeps a man for a week to unravel this fiasco. “You have another job, remember? As the Crushers’ athletic trainer.”
“I can fill in between appointments,” she chirps. “And you need to hire some more help anyway. This will force you to take some time off.”
What is happening right now?
My best friend is actively encouraging Brendan’s mother to believe I’m attending a week of wedding festivities I haven’t even been invited to. Isabella Marco is going to have a heart attack when she realizes I’m not Brendan’s date.
“Oh, good!” Isabella claps her hands, her relieved smile melting the tension. “I’m so glad you can come.” She pulls an elegant invitation from her purse and slides it across the counter.
It’s printed on cream cardstock with gold lettering that looks like something the Princess of Wales would use for a royal tea party.
“Well,” I begin, still unsure how to extricate myself. Because despite everything that’s happened between Brendan and me, I still like his mother very much. She’s everything I would want in a future mother-in-law. But since Brendan’s not my boyfriend, disappointing her feels wrong somehow.
I crinkle my nose, hating what I’m about to do. “I’m not sure how to say this.”
She frowns. “Are you worried about leaving your father for a week? I’ll be happy to provide assistance any way I can.”
“That’s not the issue.”
Admitting that Brendan didn’t invite me bothers me more than it should. I still don’t have an answer as to why he ghosted me after our kiss in high school. All I know is it made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be his girlfriend. Not then or now.
“I actually have a thing that day. A supplier meeting I’ve been trying to nail down for weeks.”
Which is technically true.
After all, it’s been over a decade, and Brendan Marco still hasn’t asked me to be anything more than the girl who serves him coffee. One wedding week isn’t going to change that.
Her mouth presses into a disappointed line. “Are you sure? We were so looking forward to you coming. I’ll still keep a room reserved in your name, though, just in case your schedule opens up.”
I offer her an apologetic smile. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Well, please let me know if you change your mind.” She gives me one last look before heading out of the cafe.
I turn to Gabriella, who’s leaning against the counter, arms folded. “She offered you a week at the Marco estate filled with parties and fun. Why would you say no to that?”
“I’m not a terrible person,” I say under my breath. “Brendan didn’t ask me.”
She stares at me. “What?”
“She must have me confused with someone else.”
“Who else would he be going with?”
“I have no idea.” I grab my phone from my pocket. “I need to clear up this mistake before Isabella tells the whole town I just rejected her son.”
I grab a handful of silverware to take to the kitchen in the back while I type with my thumbs.
I’m so busy looking at my phone as I turn the corner, I don’t see the person in front of me until I slam into him.
Silverware and my phone clatter across the floor, and I land hard on my backside with the grace of a drunk raccoon.
“What in the—” I look up to find Brendan Marco standing over me, his dark hair perfectly styled under his backwards Crushers cap, his broad shoulders filling out his team jacket, and those achingly beautiful, brown eyes that have been haunting my dreams since I was sixteen.
“Scarlett—are you okay?” He crouches down, concern on his face.
“I’m fine,” I blurt, even though my tailbone throbs and there’s a fork-shaped puncture wound in my palm.
His brow knits as his eyes drop to my hand. “You’re bleeding.”
It infuriates me that he pretends to care. After what happened between us, I can’t fathom him actually concerned about my well-being now.
“It’s nothing.” I scramble to my feet and head for the sink, running cold water over the cut while trying to pretend my heart didn’t skitter across the floor along with the silverware.
“Maybe next time don’t text and walk.” I look over my shoulder to see the ghost of a smile.
“Maybe don’t lurk in back rooms like some kind of sexy stalker,” I shoot back before I think better of my phrasing.
Sexy stalker—really? Of all the adjectives in the world, why did I choose that one?
He arches an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“No,” I say quickly, focusing on the water so he can’t see the heat blooming on my cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, it sounds like a compliment to me.”
“Hardly.” When I glance at him, he looks amused. Like the old Brendan, the one who used to make me laugh, who spent hours around the campfire, toasting the perfect marshmallow for me because every time I’d try, I’d burn it to a black crisp.
I turn off the water. “Why did you come in the back door?”
“Your brother always used the back entrance. Old habits.” He says it like that explains everything.
His gaze travels over me, taking in my messy bun, oversized hoodie, and favorite worn jeans like he’s silently inspecting me. Then his eyes flick up to mine before I can read anything in them.
“So why are you here, then? Because I have customers waiting out front.”
He clears his throat. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”
“Let me guess—” I grab a towel to wipe my hands. “Your mom thinks I’m your wedding date.”
The panic that flashes across his face would be comical if my entire world wasn’t currently on the verge of collapsing.
He raises his hands. “Scarlett, I can explain—”
“So it’s not a mistake? You told them I was coming as your plus-one?” I take a step toward him. “What in the world were you thinking?”
He exhales. “They really wanted me to find a date. And my sister said that if I didn’t, she would set me up with her friend Laila, one of the bridesmaids.” He looks at me for support.
I give him none. Because lying to his mother is simply inexcusable.
His mouth tightens into a line. “So I might have mentioned that I already had a date.”
“You might have mentioned…” I say slowly.
He flinches as he meets my eyes. “I told them it was you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I also told them—” He looks away, clearly uncomfortable now. “That I was seeing you. That’s what I was coming to tell you right now.”
“You told your mother you’re seeing me.” My voice is flat. Unsympathetic. “As in, friends who see each other at the coffee shop? Or like, romantically involved? Because if it’s the second, that’s the exact opposite of what we actually are.”
If Brendan’s going to make up a story about me—and use me as an excuse to get out of a date with a woman he can’t stand—I want him to be as uncomfortable as possible.
He lifts his cap and runs a hand through his hair. “I let them believe that we were…involved.” He sighs. “Listen, I know that was wrong.”
“Wrong?” I let out a humorless laugh.
The guy who broke my heart is using me to avoid a setup with his sister’s friend.
This is unacceptable on so many levels. “You know what’s wrong, Brendan?
My dad fighting cancer while I try to keep our business from going under.
You know what else is wrong? The fact that we are not dating, have never been dating, and your mother now thinks I’m the future Mrs. Brendan Marco. ”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Scarlett,” he says in that infuriatingly controlled way. “I just need a wedding date.”
I stare at him. A wedding date for the Marco family? Last time I got close to that world, I was shown the door. Literally. And he’s standing here asking me to walk back in like that never happened.
“Then hire an escort,” I fire back.
“You know that escorts usually provide other services, right? Not what I’m looking for.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Oh, so you don’t want a good time?”
He rolls his eyes.
“Wait, I get it.” I point at him. “You need someone safe. A temporary girlfriend you can parade around for a week so nobody asks why Coach Marco still shows up to family weddings alone.”
His brow furrows. “That’s not—”
“Well, you just picked the wrong girl.” I brush past him toward the door, the rush of adrenaline making my heart pump. I stop, whirling around to face him one last time. “Find yourself another pretend girlfriend, Brendan Marco.”
I leave him standing there among the scattered silverware, his mouth open.
Just like he left me twelve years ago. Except this time, I’m the one walking away.