Chapter 13 Scarlett
THIRTEEN
Scarlett
My stomach flutters nervously when Brendan’s SUV pulls in right behind Mona. I dash out of the house, wave to my brother, and haul myself into one of Brendan’s luxurious leather seats. Eli’s working under Mona’s hood but shooting glances our way.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say. “Even though Eli swore he fixed the engine in my car, it’s still making that same noise, and I’d rather not break down in Charleston traffic.”
“It’ll look better if we show up together anyway,” Brendan says. “Especially since this is the first time you’re meeting my aunt and grandmother.”
As he backs out of the driveway, a text notification chimes through the speakers at maximum volume.
“Message from Carmen,” the robotic voice announces. “The suit and dress fitting is today. Remember to dress appropriately.”
“At least I got that right.” Brendan is wearing a tailored, charcoal-gray suit that makes him look absolutely gorgeous. It’s easy to sell this fake dating thing to his family when he looks like that.
The car chimes again. “Message from Carmen: Did you remember to tell Scarlett?”
I try not to laugh as Brendan rolls his eyes. “She has absolutely no clue you’re sitting right here.”
Another chime echoes through the vehicle. “Message from Carmen: You forgot, didn’t you?”
“I should probably answer her,” Brendan says, hitting the button to respond with voice-to-text. “Carmen, I didn’t forget. Scarlett will be there.”
Before we turn the corner, his sister replies. “Message from Carmen: I’m hoping she’s close to Laila’s size. The seamstress wants to know what her bra size is.”
Brendan’s ears turn bright red. “Umm…I’m so sorry about that.”
Then another chime. “Message from Carmen: And her cup size. Which is not a number, Brendan. It’s letters of the alphabet. In case you’ve forgotten basic bra measurements.”
“I KNOW WHAT A CUP SIZE IS, CARMEN!” Brendan shouts at his phone, his ears flaming.
I snort. “Did you just yell at your sister about my bra size through Bluetooth?”
“Yes. Yes, I did,” he says, keeping his eyes glued on the road.
“Message from Carmen: It’s not like I planned for my bridesmaid to drop out three weeks before my wedding. Scarlett is a saint for doing this.”
I put a hand over my heart. “Awww, she thinks I’m a saint. Should I be flattered or concerned about what I’m walking into?”
“Definitely be concerned,” he mutters. “My family is overbearing, loud, and way too invested in my personal life for anyone’s good health.”
I rub my hands together. “Like those Italian mafia families?”
“We don’t actually murder people, Scarlett.”
“Well, that’s disappointing. I was hoping for some excitement.”
“Message from Carmen: Did I mention she’s gorgeous too? Good job, little brother! Never thought you’d get her back, but I TOLD YOU SO!!!”
The car goes deathly quiet as Brendan’s face matches his ears.
He fumbles frantically with the Bluetooth controls, shutting off the connection like it’s a bomb.
“Remember what I said about my family being overbearing? Case in point,” he mutters under his breath.
“Don’t listen to anything my sister says about me. ”
“Okaaaay,” I say with a nervous laugh, even though I’m dying to know what she meant.
Why did she tell him he’d “get me back”? He made it clear from that beginning that he chose me as his wedding date because he didn’t want to date me.
I grab my phone to pull up Carmen’s number. “I’ll send her my sizes so you don’t have to endure any more Bluetooth humiliation.”
His eyes dart my way, then back to the road. “Thank you.”
“So,” I say, typing a quick response and then hitting send. “On a scale of one to ten, how intense are the Marco women when they’re together?”
“Remember that nature documentary about shark packs?”
“That’s not at all comforting.”
“I’m serious, Scarlett. They mean well, but they’re a force. They’ll be asking personal questions, making assumptions about our relationship, and probably dropping hints while we’re in the wedding boutique today.”
“Oh come on,” I tease. “It can’t possibly be that bad.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
Thirty minutes later, I have my answer.
It really can be that bad.
The Marco luxury vehicles are parked next to the wedding boutique. Thank goodness I didn’t show up in my dented sedan.
Brendan stares at the shop, and I can tell he’s contemplating whether jumping out of a moving vehicle would be less painful than the next two hours.
“I just want to apologize in advance,” he says, looking at me with actual concern.
“Why?”
Before he can answer, the boutique door flies open and Isabella Marco bursts onto the sidewalk. “There you two are! Just in time for the fitting!”
“That’s why,” Brendan groans.
I barely have time to take a deep breath before I’m kissed on both cheeks, then engulfed in a hug so tight I can’t breathe.
This tiny, Puerto Rican woman in a bright, coral dress with equally colorful glasses apparently has the strength of a professional arm wrestler.
Her dark curls bounce as she steps back, and her warm smile makes it clear why everyone likes her.
In less than ten seconds, she’s made me feel like I belong here.
“My dear Scarlett,” she says, keeping her hands on my shoulders. “We are so excited to have you in the family! Well, not officially yet, but you know what I mean!” I shoot Brendan a panicked look over her shoulder.
“Isabella,” I say. “It’s good to see you too.”
She releases me only to smother Brendan with the same enthusiastic affection, pulling his face down for multiple kisses.
“Hello, Mom,” he chuckles, wrapping her in a bear hug.
The tenderness in his voice catches me off guard. For someone who usually keeps his emotions locked down, I’m not prepared to see this side of him.
Brendan is…a softie?
Isabella pats her son’s cheek before looping an arm around my waist and steering me toward the entrance. “Come meet the other Marco women. They’re going to absolutely adore you.”
I look over my shoulder at Brendan and mouth help!
He shoots me a look that says good luck before I’m steered away.
The shop’s sitting area has a massive crystal chandelier that shimmers above a decorative fountain. The click of heels draws my attention to a grandmotherly matriarch in black glasses, leaning on a cane.
“This is Rosa Marco,” Isabella says. “Brendan’s grandmother.”
I put my hand out. “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Marco.”
I’ve seen Rosa Marco before, but only from afar, since she doesn’t get out much. Her silver hair is pulled back into a bun, and instead of shaking my hand, she leans in for a double-cheek kiss while adjusting a cashmere wrap over her shoulders.
“I’m so glad you could step in at the last minute,” she says with a gentle smile, her diamond earrings catching the light. “This means everything to Carmen and Tony.”
“I’m happy to help,” I say with a smile.
Which might be stretching the truth. I’ve spent the week tossing and turning, worried about pulling this wedding off. But refusing wasn’t really an option. Too many people would question why I wouldn’t want to be part of a Marco wedding. And I need this vendor contract too much.
“Is she here?” A woman with a salt-and-pepper bob rounds the corner.
This must be Brendan’s aunt.
“Elana, this is Brendan’s girlfriend, Scarlett,” Isabella says, before turning back to me. “Elana is Rafael’s sister and my sister-in-law.”
Elana’s mouth drops as she approaches me. “You’re even more beautiful than in the photos I saw!”
“Photos?” I ask curiously.
Isabella waves her hand in the air. “Just a few that Brendan showed us.”
Brendan has photos of me. Not couple photos, not staged shots for the fake relationship—just photos of me that he’s been carrying around and showing his mother and aunt.
I can’t think too hard about what it means. If it means anything.
Mental note: take some believable couple selfies immediately, in case anyone asks to see them.
“Although why Brendan hasn’t brought you to visit me in Florida, I’ll never understand,” Elana continues, squeezing my arm affectionately.
Carmen appears in the doorway next, the picture of a radiant bride-to-be. Her long, brown curls cascade nearly to her waist, and her heart-shaped face with high cheekbones mirrors Brendan’s bone structure.
“Scarlett! Thank you so much for saving my entire wedding,” she says, immediately wrapping me in a hug. When she pulls back, she holds my hands. “I’m so happy for you two. We’ve been worried Brendan might never find his person. You’re literally an answer to our prayer, Scarlett.”
Answer to prayer. Me. The girl who’s lying to his entire family, who’s only here because her cafe is in dire need of help. Guilt twists hot and sharp in my stomach.
“Oh,” I squeak out as I glance at Brendan. “I really don’t deserve—”
“Yes, you do!” Carmen squeezes my hands tighter. “Do you know how many women have tried and failed to get past his walls? But you…” She shakes her head, looking like a proud big sister. “You’re special.”
The guilt spreads through my chest, making me slightly ill.
I’m not special. And worst of all, this is the girl who almost died the night I kissed Brendan. The fact that she survived the accident and is looking at me like I’m doing her a favor, makes me feel like a total fraud.
“Carmen,” Brendan interrupts, giving his sister a look. He steps closer, and when his hand finds my lower back, the warmth of it cuts through my spiral. “We both know I’m the lucky one.”
I glance up at him, startled. Even if he does seem believable, I remind myself it’s all part of the act.
“I just want her to know how much this means to me, Bren,” Carmen adds, before motioning me to follow her to the showroom.
“The other bridesmaids and groomsmen are inside, trying on their dresses and tuxes. The seamstress is concerned about whether Laila’s dress will fit correctly, so you’re first on her list.”
“Good luck,” Brendan says, heading toward the cheese and crackers.