Chapter Nine
JAYCE
Jayce swallowed against the dryness in his throat.
How many times had he envisioned this exact moment?
Down on one knee, offering CeCe his grandmother’s ring—the art deco moonstone ring hidden in the bottom drawer of his nightstand.
A secret reminder of his unspoken desire for something that didn’t exist—a loving marriage that outlasted the twists, turns, and tragedies of life.
His gaze fell to her fingertips, still grasped in his hand. Time to let go, before you make things weird. On impulse, he gently grazed his thumb over her knuckle, brushing aside a smudge of flour. The intimate gesture made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Okay, now you’ve definitely made things weird. He cleared his throat, yanking his hand away before she could sense his rise in temperature. He jumped to his feet. “Now what?”
“You tell me,” she said, studying the way the diamond sparkled in the overhead light. “This was your brilliant idea, remember?”
“Right.” And if the last five minutes had taught him anything, he’d need to be careful or risk getting lost in the con. “I guess we should get our story straight.”
“Good idea. How long have we been engaged?”
“Let’s say six months.”
“And how long did we date before you proposed?”
“We didn’t.”
“We didn’t?” CeCe balked.
“Nope. We’ve been friends our whole lives, and I’ve been in love with you for almost as long.
When I finally gathered the courage to tell you how I felt, I skipped straight to the proposal.
” His neck burned hot, but he kept his voice steady and expression relaxed, recalling the advice from his acting coach.
To sell a scene, you need to draw from your deepest truth .
Well, he’d drawn from the truth all right. Hopefully, she couldn’t tell.
A flicker of uncertainty flashed in her dark eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Seems far-fetched, but if you think the paparazzi will buy the story, it works for me. The fewer dates and details I have to remember, the better. Speaking of dates, when’s the wedding?”
Tomorrow , he wanted to blurt, suppressing the familiar fantasy of CeCe’s perfect curves conformed to the smooth sand, her dark curls tossed by the wind as they enjoyed their honeymoon on a private Caribbean island without another soul in sight. “How about October 15?” he said casually.
Was it his imagination or did her eyes spark with recognition? Jayce immediately dismissed the thought. No way she’d remember a random date that only held significance for him.
“What day of the week is it?”
“A Saturday. I think ,” he added hastily, not wanting to reveal how much mental energy he’d already put into this fake wedding.
“Okay. That works. What about nicknames?”
“Nicknames?”
“Yeah, what do we call each other? Babe? Bae? Sweetie?”
“Oh, right. I hadn’t thought about that.” He’d always called her Toto, after her favorite cake flavor, since her personality exuded the perfect blend of sweet and spicy. Not the cute little dog from The Wizard of Oz , like most people assumed. “What do you want me to call you?”
“Honestly, I love the one you already gave me. But do you think Toto works as a romantic term of endearment?”
He suppressed a smile. “I think it could.”
“Okay, then we’ll use it. What about you?”
“I’ve always been partial to Your Royal Highness or my lord,” he teased.
“Keep dreaming. How about honey pie? Sweet cakes? Sugar dumpling?”
“You’re making me hungry.”
“I’ve got it!” She snapped her fingers. “How about mi dawlin? ” she drawled in a sultry Jamaican accent.
Her eyes twinkled playfully. She’s just kidding around . Obviously. He knew that. So why had he suddenly become the physical embodiment of the expression weak-kneed ? He pressed his palm against the countertop for support, hoping she didn’t notice.
This isn’t real , he reminded himself. But he sure wouldn’t mind hearing her whisper the moniker in his ear every morning. At the realization, guilt crept over him. You shouldn’t be having these thoughts about your best friend. It isn’t right. Get it together, man . You’re better than this.
“Relax,” she said with a laugh, misreading his look of discomfort. “I’m joking. We can go with something simple like babe.”
He cleared his throat. “No, I like the last one.”
“Mi dawlin ? ” she asked in surprise.
“Yep. Let’s go with that.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “Dealer’s choice. Now, for the big question. How are we going to tell our parents?”
“I was thinking I’d mail mine a letter.”
“Very funny. I’m serious, Jayce. You’re asking everyone for a pretty big favor. You need to do it in person.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, wishing she wasn’t.
He raked his fingers through his hair, his muscles instantly tense.
He loved his parents, but he loathed visiting them, a big reason why he rarely came home.
No matter which parent he went to see first, the other one got offended.
And no matter how hard he tried to keep the conversations neutral, his parents constantly complained about each other, pitting Jayce in the middle of their feud.
It had been that way since sixth grade and only got worse when his dad bought the house next door after their divorce.
He claimed he wanted to be close to his son, while Jayce’s mother swore he’d done it to spite her.
To this day, for reasons that could only be attributed to full-blown insanity, they remained neighbors—bitter, bickering, backbiting neighbors who fought over where to place their trash bins.
“What if you tell your parents at the same time? Two birds, one stone.”
“I’d rather chew off my own hand than put them in the same room together.”
“I realize it’s like asking the Romulans and Klingons to get along,” she conceded with another one of her adorable Star Trek references. “But what if I go with you and hold your hand so you aren’t tempted to chew it off?”
“And ask you to fall on a grenade for me?”
“What are fiancées for?”
“Are you sure?”
“For better or worse, mi dawlin,” she said with a playful grin, making his stomach spin.
Shake it off, man . “Where should we hold this doomed rendezvous? The emergency room? You know things are going to get ugly.”
“I was thinking somewhere a little cozier.”
“How about here at the café?” he suggested.
“Ha! Definitely not. My staff has already endured a paparazzi infiltration. I don’t need them to clean up a bloodbath, too.
” She crinkled her nose in concentration, just like she did when studying for a test in school.
The endearing quirk still drove him crazy.
“I know!” she cried in delight at her epiphany.
“Sage and Flynn recently opened a bookstore on a vintage sailboat. We could schedule one of their bookish sailing tours around the bay. It’s a neutral location.
And a novelty, so good for conversation.
Plus, they can’t escape unless they jump overboard. ”
“And what if I jump overboard?”
“A hollow threat considering you’re deathly afraid of sharks.”
“I’m afraid of being eaten by sharks. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so.” She smirked.
“That’s the last time I spill my secrets during a game of Truth or Dare with you,” he grumbled.
“It’s cute you think you have any secrets left.”
Oh, if only you knew , he thought with another pang of guilt. Suppressing the swell of complicated emotions, he jokingly asked, “How about we book the tour a year from next Tuesday?”
“How about tomorrow morning?” she countered. “I’ll call Sage and make sure she has an opening. In case the paparazzi come poking around again, you need to get this over with quickly.”
“You have a point.” Plus, knowing Gretchen, she’d conjure some weak excuse to show up unannounced and uninvited. He wouldn’t put anything past her, especially after she leaked the engagement bombshell earlier than she’d promised.
“Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
“I’m crashing at Evan’s place. Mia’s back, too, so we’re having a Tinseltown Trio reunion tonight. You should come.”
“Mia’s home?” CeCe brightened at the mention of their mutual childhood friend.
“Yeah, she kidnapped me from the airport. If I hadn’t already been planning to come see you the second I stepped off the plane, she would’ve dragged me back, by force, if necessary.”
“And that’s why I love her,” CeCe laughed. “But I’m glad drastic measures weren’t needed.”
“I meant it when I said I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I realize it’s asking a lot. So, thanks. Sincerely. I appreciate you helping me out.”
“Anything for a friend.” She smiled the kind of smile that made her warm, velvety eyes sparkle behind her glasses and her seductive dimple deepen. The smile that made his chest squeeze around his lungs, stealing his breath every time.
A friend…
That’s all he was. And it had to be enough.
Because anything more would eventually ruin the best, most fulfilling and soul-quenching relationship in his life—a treasure too great to risk.