Chapter 8
FREYA
Ipush through the glass door of Grounds Up, breathing in the familiar smell of espresso and pastries. It’s not even eight yet, and while I usually like to sleep in, I need my caffeine fix and the comfort of routine to help me process the fact that Ben and I are getting married.
And whose brilliant idea was it?
Mine. Mine alone.
It’s fine. Totally okay.
Of course, I’ll have to explain the whole marriage to my family and friends… And that will come with its own complications.
Do I even want to tell them the truth? Or is it better to pretend Ben and I are actually in love?
Shaking my head, I jump into line. The morning rush is winding down, so there are only a few people ahead of me. I pull out my phone to check the weather, thinking it might be a good day to pick up running again, when I notice two teenage girls at a corner table staring at me.
Not unusual in itself. I have pretty distinctive red hair, and sometimes people think they recognize me from somewhere. But these girls are whispering to each other and pointing, which is definitely unusual.
I look away, assuming they’ll lose interest, but when I glance back, they’re still staring. One of them has her phone out now and appears to be taking pictures.
What’s going on?
“Next!”
I step up to the counter, ordering my usual cold brew, but I can feel the girls’ eyes on me the entire time.
When I turn around to wait for my drink, I see that a guy sitting by the window is also looking at me, and he’s watching something on his phone that’s making him glance up at me every few seconds.
My heart starts beating faster. This is weird. Really weird.
“Freya!” The barista calls my name, and I hurry over to grab my coffee. As I’m adding cream, I catch a glimpse of the guy’s phone screen.
It’s a video—some kind of social media reel—and I can see what looks like a photo of Ben and me. My hand freezes around the coffee cup.
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
I practically sprint out of the coffee shop, my mind racing. How is there already content about us online? We just had dinner last night. We haven’t even announced anything officially.
Once I’m safely back on the sidewalk, I pull out my phone with shaking hands and open Instagram. I don’t have to search long. Ben’s name is trending, and when I click on it, I’m greeted with dozens of posts about his “surprise engagement.”
The photos were clearly taken outside the restaurant last night. Ben and me walking to our table, his hand on my lower back. Me smiling at something he said. Both of us looking, admittedly, very much like a couple in love.
The captions are even worse:
“OMG Ben Lawlor is ENGAGED! Who is this mystery woman?”
“Chicago’s most eligible bachelor is officially off the market ”
“She’s gorgeous! They look so happy together!”
“Childhood friends to lovers is my favorite trope!”
My phone is buzzing with notifications. Instagram followers I didn’t even know I had, friend requests, and direct messages from strangers. How did this happen so fast?
I call Ben before I can lose my nerve.
“Hey.” He answers on the first ring, and he sounds as rattled as I feel. “I was just about to call you.”
“Ben, what on earth is happening? There are photos of us everywhere. People were staring at me at the coffee shop.”
“I know. I’m seeing it too. My PR manager just sent me a whole folder of screenshots.”
“How did they even know to take pictures? We were just having dinner.”
“Someone must have recognized me at the restaurant and tipped off a photographer. Or maybe it was just bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time.”
I lean against a building, feeling suddenly dizzy. “This is insane. I’m nobody. Why do people care about who you’re dating?”
“Because apparently I’m ‘Chicago’s most eligible bachelor’ and my love life has been the subject of speculation for years.” He sounds tired, like he’s had this conversation before. “Freya, if this is too much, we can dial it back. We can say we want privacy, ask people to respect our boundaries.”
“No.” The word comes out more forcefully than I intended. “No, it’s fine. It was just… surprising. I wasn’t expecting to become internet famous overnight.”
“Are you sure? Because once this train leaves the station, it’s going to be hard to stop.”
I think about this. Am I sure? The attention is overwhelming and invasive, and honestly, a little scary. But backing down now would mean Ben losing his deal with Red, and I’m not about to let that happen because I can’t handle a few strangers looking at me.
“I’m sure. It’s fine. I can handle this.”
“Okay. Good.” There’s relief in his voice. “Actually, if we’re going to do this, we might need to… stage some things.”
“Stage some things? What do you mean?”
“Well, now that people know about us, they’re going to expect to see us together. My PR manager thinks we should—”
My phone starts buzzing with an incoming call. Bella’s name flashes on the screen, and my stomach drops to my feet. Oh, no. This call I can’t miss.
“Ben, I have to go. Bella’s calling.”
“Freya, wait—”
But I’m already switching over to the other call, my heart pounding.
“Hey, Bella.”
“FREYA MARIE HULL.” Bella’s voice is so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“Um… good morning to you too?”
“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me. I just saw a notification that Ben Lawlor—YOUR Ben—is trending on social media because he’s ENGAGED. To someone who looks suspiciously like my sister. Care to explain?”
I close my eyes, leaning harder against the building. I should have called her last night. I should have given her a heads-up before she found out from the internet.
“Bella, I can explain.”
“You’re engaged? To Ben? And you didn’t tell me you were dating him? I just saw you the other day.”
“It’s complicated…”
“It’s complicated? Freya, we talked about him literally two days ago. You said he was still married to his job. You’ve always said you two were just friends.”
“We are… were. I mean…” I’m stumbling over my words, trying to think of an explanation that isn’t a complete lie but also doesn’t reveal the truth. “It happened really fast.”
“How fast? Like, yesterday fast?”
“Bella, please.”
“I’m your sister, Freya. We tell each other everything. How could you not mention that you and Ben were even dating, let alone engaged?”
The hurt in her voice cuts deeper than I expected.
She’s right. We do tell each other everything.
When she was having fertility issues before Sky was born, I was the first person she called.
When I was struggling to pay rent two years ago, she was the one who helped me figure out my finances. We don’t keep secrets.
Except now I do. And it feels terrible.
“I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure,” I lie, hating myself for it. “You know how relationships in the public eye can be so fragile. I was worried that talking about it too much might jinx it.”
It’s a terrible excuse, but it’s the best I can come up with on the spot.
Bella is quiet for a long moment. “Since when do you care about jinxing things? You’re the least superstitious person I know.”
“Since I fell in love with my best friend and realized how much I had to lose.”
The words come out before I can stop them, and they’re more honest than anything else I’ve said in this conversation. Because even though the engagement is fake, the feelings behind that statement are completely real.
“Oh, Freya.” Bella’s voice softens. “I’m not mad that you’re engaged. I’m mad that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it.”
“It’s not about trust.”
“Isn’t it? We’re sisters. We’re supposed to share the big moments with each other. I should have known before the internet did.”
She’s right, and we both know it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because what else can I say? “You’re right. I should have told you.”
“Are you happy?” she asks finally.
“What?”
“Are you happy? Because honestly, I’m not that surprised this happened. I’ve been waiting for you and Ben to figure out you’re perfect for each other since we were teenagers.”
My throat tightens. “I’m happy,” I manage, and it’s not entirely a lie. I am happy. Terrified and confused and in way over my head, but happy.
“Good. That’s all that matters.” Her voice is warmer now, but I can still hear the hurt underneath. “When’s the wedding?”
“July. We wanted something soon.”
“July? That’s like two months away. Freya, how are you going to plan a wedding in two months?”
“Very carefully,” I say, trying for humor. “And with a lot of help.”
“I want to help. Let me help.”
“Bella.”
“No, I’m serious. I know I’m swamped with the kids, but this is important. You’re my sister, and I want to be part of this.”
The offer makes me want to cry. Here I am, lying to her about the most basic facts of my life, and she’s offering to help plan my fake wedding because she loves me.
“That would be amazing,” I say, because turning down her help would only hurt her more. “Thank you.”
“I should probably go,” Bella says. “Graham needs a diaper change, and Sky is suspiciously quiet, which usually means trouble. But Freya?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. And I’m happy for you, even if I’m a little hurt that you kept this from me.”
“I love you, too.”
After we hang up, I stand on the sidewalk for a long moment, feeling like the worst sister in the world.
I just lied to Bella’s face—multiple times—about something huge.
She’s going to help me plan a wedding that isn’t real, and she’s going to do it with enthusiasm because she thinks I’m marrying the love of my life.
Which, in a twisted way, I am. Just not in the way she thinks.
My phone buzzes with a text from Ben: “Everything okay with Bella?”
“She knows about the engagement,” I type back. “I told her it’s the real deal.”
“Did she buy it?”
I stare at the message for a long time before responding: “She’s hurt that I didn’t tell her sooner, but she understands.”
What I don’t add is that understanding and buying it are two different things. Bella might have accepted my explanation, but I could hear the questions in her voice. She knows me too well to believe that I’d keep something this big from her without a really good reason.
And she’s going to keep digging until she figures out what that reason is.
Another text from Ben: “We need to talk. Can you come to my office this afternoon? We need to discuss next steps.”
“What kind of next steps?”
“The kind that involves photographers and public appearances. If we’re doing this, we need to do it right.”
I lean my head back against the building, looking up at the Chicago sky. A week ago, my biggest worry was whether I’d have enough money to replace my broken easel. Now I’m fake-engaged to a billionaire, trending on social media, and lying to my sister about the most important things in my life.
“I’ll be there at two,” I text back.
As I walk home, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve crossed a line I can never uncross. Not just with Ben and this fake marriage, but with Bella and the lies I told her.
Suddenly, the personal component of this all, how it will affect me and Ben, doesn’t seem so big. There’s something else on the line, a change that feels more threatening. I’m doing something that I never thought I would. I’m stepping into a national spotlight, and there’s no going back.
I’m terrified that by the time this is all over, I won’t recognize myself anymore.