Chapter 3 #2
He keeps his arms folded but rubs a hand over his brow. “The Ellises are my mom’s side of the family. They’re the ones who own the vineyard where Camila got married. I promise you my last name is, and always has been, Hayes.”
“I’ve never heard the name Hayes in my life.”
That’s probably a lie, but if I have, it never stuck, where the last name Ellis is burned in my mind. I pace the sidewalk, new patrons shooting me concerned glances. But of course they would. I’m covered in food and walking back and forth muttering “fuck” to myself on repeat.
“What do we do? I promised myself I wouldn’t mess up Addy’s wedding, and now every person in that room except for the most important one thinks we dated.”
“Yes,” Owen says with perfect composure. “You should also know that I’ve used our breakup as an excuse to get out of matchmaking schemes ever since.”
My pacing stops so abruptly I teeter in my heels as my eyes go wide. “I’m sorry, what? It’s been three years!”
Nothing changes in his expression but there’s a slight gleam to his eye. “You leave an impression.”
I finally crack a smile at that. “You’re so full of shit.”
Owen smiles back, the first I’ve seen since we arrived, and something deep in my stomach tightens in response. He’s way too buttoned up, not my type, but when his already handsome face is transformed by a slight curve of his lips, it feels like my world is tilting on its axis.
I shake off the distraction. “So, we go in there and come clean? Tell them it was all fake? It’ll be awkward for a few minutes, but then we can all move on and focus on the wedding.”
Owen nods thoughtfully, running his tongue over his teeth. “Or, and just hear me out, we don’t come clean.”
A scoff rips from my throat. “Hilarious.”
He rolls his lips together like he’s trying to hide a smile, and I can’t help but home in on the action. “I just don’t see why we need to jump straight to telling the truth without at least talking through our options.”
I hum. “What about Addy? She knows my dating history, or lack of dating history. If we go in there pretending like we were in this serious relationship, she’ll know it’s bullshit.”
“Will she, though?” Owen asks, his face pinching together in skepticism. “She’s twenty-three. She would have been, what? A sophomore or junior in college when this all happened. We can just tell her she was distracted with school.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He lifts his hands with a little shrug that says, But can’t I? My teeth clamp around my nail, chewing nervously before remembering how long I spent on them to make it look like I’d been able to afford a nice manicure for the wedding.
“Look, you don’t want this week ruined for Addy, right? And I don’t want this week ruined for Harrison. Keeping up the lie is the best way to ensure they make it down the aisle without drama.”
I anchor my hands on my hips to keep my poor nails away from my teeth. “What are we looking at here?”
Owen crosses his arms. “If we tell them the truth?” I raise my eyebrow at the “if,” but I nod.
“I can’t tell you exactly how it’ll pan out, but it wouldn’t be good.
My mom’s moods are unpredictable, and this will set her off.
She’s already emotional because Harrison’s getting married without our dad here, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.
I’m guessing it’ll be the main—if not only—topic of conversation all week, assuming she shows up to the wedding at all. ”
And it will reflect poorly on Addy. I think about the desperate gleam in her eye when she told me about the engagement, how she said she needed my help to win over her soon-to-be mother-in-law. I can’t help if Diana decides she can’t trust me.
I run my hands back up into my hair again—it’s already streaked with icing, so I might as well lean into the stress relief and consider my options. I promised no drama, and this seems like the easiest option.
“If we do this—and I’m not saying I agree—how does this work?” I ask.
“Well, we broke up, and I’m still devastated,” Owen says. When I snort my response, a conspiratorial smile takes over his face, more devious than I thought him capable of. It’s kind of hot. “We go back in there and let them believe what they already believe.”
“And you think people will buy that?” I ask. The idea of him pining over me is just absurd.
Owen’s brow furrows. “Of course they will. My cousins may have a bit of fun at our expense, but if you want to avoid drama, I promise, this is the best way to do it.”
I think of the way Addy smiled at her fiancé. Open and joyful and so fucking optimistic it made my insides feel like they were going through a spin cycle. She’s always wanted a family like this, and my people-pleasing little sister will be crushed if she can’t get her mother-in-law’s approval.
What’s one week of maintaining this bizarre lie in the grand scheme of her life?
After the wedding, I won’t see them. It’ll be just like with the Fischers.
Addy will go do all the family things that I’m not invited to.
Owen will find someone and fall head over heels.
I’ll stop being “Owen’s ex” and just be the sister they know exists on the other side of the family, but who they never think about. It’ll be easy.
“Fine, but no one can know. Just the two of us.” I wait for Owen to nod his agreement, then mutter, “This is going to be such a shit show.”
“It’ll be fine,” Owen says as he starts back toward the restaurant.
He stops next to me, looking straight into my eyes. With my heels, he’s only an inch taller than me, putting our faces too close together. He places a hand on my hip, his touch burning through the fabric.
“It’s great to see you, Thea. You still look beautiful in that dress,” he says quietly, and the words rush through my veins like a shot of adrenaline.
He pulls his hand back, realizing he got some icing on his pointer and middle fingers when he touched me.
He slips the digits into his mouth, sucking it off.
“Shame about the cake. It was delicious,” he says, face deadpan.
I bark out a laugh. His eyebrows pull together in surprise for a half second, then he looks away, a small, almost shy smile curving his lips.
Without another word, he walks back into the restaurant, and my eyes trail him of their own accord.
“He’s right,” I mutter to myself. “This is fine. Everything will be fine.”
I take one last breath before forcing myself to march back into the restaurant, wholly unprepared for what’s to come.