Chapter 12
LILA
To my delight, dinner is actually shaping up to be…fun. Fisher’s roommates are nothing like I expected.
The guys, Penn and Noah, looked intimidating at first with their huge, hulking statures and obvious reservations about my upcoming wedding to Fisher, but it didn’t take me long to work out they’re good guys who are just concerned about their buddy’s questionable life choices.
Which I understand. I’ve been so worried about what my loved ones are going to think, I hadn’t considered how this whole thing might look to the people who love Fisher. For all they knew, I could have been a gold digger looking to make an easy buck. Or million.
I’m glad Fisher has good friends who are looking out for him, and the fact that he told them all this is a fake marriage makes me happy, because he clearly trusts them fully. Also, it makes things much easier for me, because I don’t have to pretend to be head over heels in love all evening.
As we all eat and chat, I find out Ally lives with the three boys, while Hazel lives just across the street.
Despite coming on strong with the wedding planning, Ally’s a sweetheart.
She’s dating Noah, and has known Fisher since they attended college together back in Georgia.
Hazel’s more reserved, but her eyes are kind and warm.
She’s dating Penn, and definitely the mother hen of the group.
“And now you see why I really needed to get married,” Fisher says. “I’m the permanent fifth wheel of the group these days, and hitching my wagon to a hottie who’d impress my friends makes me feel less like some loner loser.”
Penn snorts. “Loner? Try telling that to the multiple women you’ve—ouch!” He yelps as Hazel digs her elbow into his ribs. He looks at his girlfriend like a sad puppy. “What was that for?” Hazel widens her eyes at him, and sudden realization dawns in Penn’s expression.
“Shit.” He winces as he turns to me, sheepish. “Sorry, Lila. Ignore me.”
“Please do, everybody else does,” Fisher drawls, and Penn gives him the middle finger, but they’re both laughing.
“All good.” I smirk. “It’s not like Fisher’s kept his dating history a secret from me.”
Penn grins at his friend. “And didn’t I tell you that you’d settle down once you found the right woman, Fishy?”
“A fake marriage to swindle millions from a billionaire’s will; the very definition of settling down,” Noah adds, but he’s smiling. Or, at least, he looks like he wants to smile.
“I need to pee,” Ally says suddenly, pushing her chair back and standing from the table.
“Thank you so much for that announcement,” Fisher replies.
Ally ignores him and looks over at Hazel, widening her eyes at her. A moment later, she shoves her chair back, too. “Same. Want to come, Lila?”
Both girls turn to me, and I jump up without hesitation at the chance to talk to the girls alone, and hear whatever it is they clearly want to say to me. “Definitely.”
“I will never understand why women do that,” Noah mutters as the three of us walk toward the door to go back inside the restaurant to find the bathrooms, and we all giggle. It makes me feel strangely accepted, part of something.
Once we’re inside the ladies’ room, Ally grows serious as she tucks a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear and faces me. She’s only a couple of inches taller than I am, so we’re almost eye to eye.
“Fisher’s a good guy,” she says.
I’m unsure how I’m meant to react to that statement, so I nod.
Ally bites her lip. “Like, a really good guy. Under all of his bravado and sarcasm, he’s one of the best people I know. And he might not be a relationship guy, but he treats the women he spends time with respectfully. He'd never do anything to hurt anyone.”
I swallow. A moment ago, I felt like one of the gang, the six of us in on a crazy secret together. Now, I feel every inch the outsider I am. For the millionth time, I wonder what the hell I’m doing here. But then I remind myself of what’s at stake.
“I’m not going to hurt your friend either, Ally,” I say gently. “I promise I’m not trying to steal his money or anything like that. I just want to save my art collective’s building.”
“Ohmygosh, I didn’t mean that!” Ally puts her hands on my arms and squeezes them. “I was just worried you were going to back out when you realized just how much of a reputation Fisher has.”
“I already knew Fisher wasn’t the commitment type in the past,” I assure her, phrasing it as nicely as I can.
“Penn used to be a total playboy, too,” Hazel joins in on trying to convince me, apparently not having heard what I just said.
“And now he’s the most loyal boyfriend ever.
People really do change, and deep down, Fisher is already a sweetheart, like Ally said…
we think he just needs the right partner. ”
I look at the two women standing in front of me, their expressions sweet and earnest as they try to reassure me it's still safe to marry their friend now they’ve reiterated what a manslut he has been, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me.
I might not know these girls, but this is a prime example of girlhood at its finest.
“You’re both really kind,” I say through my laughter.
“And good friends to Fisher. I appreciate your concern for both of us, but this is one hundred percent a business transaction. No feelings are, or will be, involved. No need to worry about either of us getting hurt. Fisher’s dating habits aren’t my business—because we’re not really together. ”
Ally’s mouth twists in disappointment.
“Are you sure you don't have any feelings at all for him?” Hazel asks.
I think back to his protectiveness when he thought I was in danger when we first met.
His enthusiasm when I showed him around my neighborhood last night, and his vulnerable confession about how his family views him.
The way he smiled at me when he was down on his knee in front of me this morning.
The wicked gleam in his eye as he made me blush with his stupid comments about his big package.
I push all of this out of my mind. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, that sucks.” Ally pouts.
“We can still plan the ugliest wedding in history together. Have you guys heard of Wharf Market?” The girls both shake their heads, and I smile at them.
“It’s a pop-up market near where I live, and they have a secondhand store full of old costumes and props from movies and musicals and stuff. Why don’t we all go there this week?”
Hazel grins. “Girl, now you are speaking my language.”
“My friends loved you,” Fisher tells me later that evening as we stroll along the pier together. The moonlight above dips his hair and skin in gold. “Even Downsby.”
After dinner, Fisher announced to the others he was walking me home—which was news to me—then made a big fuss of passing the keys of his G Wagon to Noah.
He even made him swear on his NHL career that he’d treat the vehicle like it was his baby.
Well, he tried to make him do that. Noah just rolled his eyes and grabbed the keys from Fisher’s hand while muttering about what an idiot he was.
Both of the girls hugged me goodbye as we made plans to meet up on Friday at Wharf Market to go ugly wedding shopping.
Then, to my surprise, Penn hugged me too and announced he’d love to go shopping with us.
Even Noah said he’d come—although he just nodded at me as he left.
But according to Fisher, that means I won him over, so I’ll take it.
“I thought they were pretty great, too.” I look up at him teasingly. “Much to my surprise.”
“What, did you think they were going to be a bunch of meat heads who use way too much hair gel and Axe body spray?”
“Yes,” I reply without missing a beat.
“Glad to have proved you wrong, then,” Fisher laughs as he reaches over and pokes my side. The contact is brief and playful, but it sends a strange shiver through me all the same. He mistakes my shiver as my being cold, and shrugs his jacket off.
“Oh, no—”
“I insist.” He drapes it over my shoulders, and I breathe in the mingling scents of his incredible cologne and laundry detergent. “Whoa, you’re drowning in that.”
“Are all hockey players as huge as you and your friends, Hercules?”
Fisher huffs a laugh at the nickname. “Why, are you in the market for a tall, buff guy?” he shoots me a flirty smile, flexing his arms. “Because I could hook you up.”
“Nah.” I grin back at him. The spot on my side where his fingers scraped the thin fabric of my dress still feels warm. “I’m already betrothed to another.”
“Sounds like a lucky guy.”
“Oh, he is,” I reply, making him laugh. I really like his laugh.
“I don’t know if I believe you’re engaged, though.” Fisher reaches for my hand, wrapping his big callused fingers around my wrist and then he holds my hand up and acts like he’s inspecting it. “I don’t see a ring.”
“I didn’t even think about a ring,” I tell him, imagining how strange an engagement ring would look next to my chipped rainbow nail polish and collection of mismatched jewelry from flea markets.
“I did,” he says quietly. I look over at him, and he’s looking at the ground, kicking at a rock with his sneaker.
“Did you…want me to wear one of my rings on that finger?” I go to slide one off my middle finger, but he puts his hand on mine, stopping me.
“No, I got you one.” He looks almost nervous as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a green velvet jewelry box. Fisher passes it to me. “Just to make everything look more real between us, of course.”
“Of course.” My hands shake as I ease the box open to find the prettiest and most understated ring I’ve ever seen. I stare down at the shimmering opal set in vintage silver, and suck in a sharp breath. Opal’s my birthstone, and has always been one of my favorite gemstones. “It’s…”
“Not much, I know.” He makes a face. “I’ve been on a bit of a budget lately. But if you hate it, I have the receipt from the vintage jewelry store where I got it. You can exchange it for anything you like. I don’t mind—you’re the one who has to wear it.”
“I was going to say it’s stunning, Fisher. I honestly never gave much thought to what kind of wedding ring I’d want…but this looks like something I’d pick out myself. You really didn’t need to get me a ring.”
Fisher’s shoulders sag in relief. The moon has disappeared behind a cloud, and in the absence of its light, Fisher’s green eyes look darker. The color of dense forest. “It’s the least I could do for what you’re about to do for me.”
“This benefits both of us,” I remind him.
He raises a brow. “So you’ll wear it?”
“Of course. And I’ll give it back so you can sell it when we get divorced.”
“We’ll see.” I give him a look, and he snorts a laugh. “Okay, fine. After the year, you can do whatever you want with it. Throw it in the ocean for all I care.”
“How very Titanic of you.”
“You know in that movie, he paints her naked.”
I smack his arm. “In your dreams, Fisher.”
“Every night,” he replies.
We keep on walking and laughing together, and by the time we reach the firehouse, I realize I don't want him to go. I don't want the night to be over yet.
I’m not sure how that makes me feel. But he said we should be friends, so I suppose it’s not that big of a deal.