Chapter Sixteen
JAYCE
Jayce stretched and curled his fingers, repeating the motion to help ease the tension creeping up his arms into his neck and shoulders. Midmorning sunlight sparkled across the water, bathing the marina in a golden glow, but he barely noticed, his mind stuck on earlier events.
His skin still singed hot whenever he recalled Gretchen’s rudeness to CeCe that morning.
He knew he’d been banished to the bedroom for good reason, but he couldn’t hide while Gretchen insulted her.
What planet did the woman live on? If someone was out of anyone’s league, CeCe was out of his, by a long shot.
He’d said as much when he had a moment alone with Gretchen.
He’d also made it clear he didn’t appreciate her impromptu appearance.
If she wanted to meet CeCe’s parents—or anyone else in their lives—it needed to be on their terms, not hers.
He wasn’t sure how long he could keep her bulldog tendencies at bay, but he’d at least bought a couple more days to sort things out.
Gretchen had headed back to LA in a semi-dignified huff, claiming she had a few other publicity angles to pursue.
Hopefully, by the time she returned, his parents would be on board, and more importantly, CeCe and her mother would be back on good terms. CeCe needed her mom, and whether or not Mrs. Dupree participated in their plan, he wanted the two women to reconcile. But how could he help?
All ability to form a coherent thought, let alone brainstorm viable possibilities, vanished the second he caught sight of CeCe strolling down the pier toward him.
Her legs looked incredible in cutoff jean shorts.
And when he read the words on her graphic tee, he stifled a laugh.
I’m in My Nerd Era . He loved the way she stayed true to herself despite the extra media scrutiny.
“Ready for this?” she asked, stopping beside him.
Clenching his fists again, he fixed his gaze on the end of the pier.
The Unbound Bookshop gently bobbed in its slip, its polished wood and pristine white sails gleaming in the sunlight.
He’d never seen a more beautiful boat. But the appeal of the vintage sailing schooner did little to ease his apprehension.
It would be hard enough to sell his parents on his fake engagement scheme one-on-one, but contending with their constant bickering made the task feel impossible.
At least neither of them followed celebrity news and hadn’t heard the gossip yet. Not that a blank slate to announce their sham engagement would make the morning any less unpleasant. “Is it too late to chew off my hands instead?” he asked wryly.
“I’m afraid so. But just in case…” She laced her fingers through his, giving his hand a firm squeeze.
Together, they trekked the remainder of the long pier.
Jayce tried to steady his pulse, pacing each breath with the rhythmic lapping of waves against the wooden pilings.
As they drew closer to their destination, agitated voices carried above the pleasant cadence of seagull cries, offering an ominous greeting.
“It’s The Curious Quest of Quinley Culpepper ,” his mother insisted, putting extra emphasis on the word of .
“Actually, the title of the book is The Curious Quest for Quinley Culpepper ,” his father countered, his tone equally condescending as they debated the literary inspiration behind the day’s themed brunch and sailing tour.
“Considering you’ve read five books in your entire life, please forgive me if I don’t kowtow to your literary expertise.”
“And forgive me if I’m not impressed by your pretentious vocabulary.”
“Pretentious?” his mother snapped. “Is it my fault you don’t know the meaning of kowtow ? Or is it the words forgive me that you find so unfamiliar? Goodness knows you’ve never said them yourself.”
Ouch . Jayce winced. Not even noon and they’d already dragged out the heavy artillery. “Ready to abandon ship?” he whispered to CeCe. “I think I’d rather be shark bait.”
“Not yet,” she whispered back. “But I’m willing to consider shoving you overboard as a last resort.” Still holding his hand, she tugged him up the gangway.
His parents stood on deck, squared off like two buccaneers about to cleave each other to the brisket.
However, if it weren’t for their scowls and hostile posture, they could be mature cover models for Nautica or J.
Crew. Both his parents still looked great, even in their unoriginal—and ironically well-coordinated—ensembles of linen pants and nautical striped shirts.
Sure, they’d gained a few extra pounds over the last decade, but they carried them well.
His father still had all his hair, even if it boasted a little more salt than pepper these days.
And his mother had finally ditched her after-divorce dye job, trading the overly processed blond style for her natural chestnut waves. A good call, in his opinion.
Seeing them together conjured wistful memories—memories from a happier time, before all the anger and bitterness.
Pre-split, his parents had the kind of gross, lovey-dovey, excessively affectionate relationship kids complained about but secretly appreciated because it made them feel safe.
They’d been husband and wife, best friends, and equal partners. Until they weren’t.
Now, they argued over prepositions in book titles. And chased people away with their toxic unpleasantness. He had a feeling Sage and Flynn had ducked below deck until the tension died down. He had half a mind to join them.
“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”
“Jayce!” His mother beamed, the literary feud momentarily forgotten.
“Welcome home, son.” His father matched her shift in demeanor.
“Thanks for coming.” Jayce tightened his grip on CeCe’s hand, grappling for the right words. Despite rehearsing a hundred different variations of his speech, he had no idea what to say next.
“Of course! I wouldn’t miss a rare opportunity to see my baby boy,” his mother chirped, adding, “Although, I’m not sure why we had to meet here .” Her tone and less-than-subtle glance at his father implied she also didn’t understand why he’d been invited.
Jayce cleared his throat, glancing at CeCe for moral support.
She met his gaze with an encouraging smile.
Turning back to his parents, he squared his shoulders. Best to rip off the Band-Aid . “CeCe and I have something to tell you.”
His mother’s gaze shot to their entwined hands, settling on the large diamond glittering on CeCe’s ring finger. Her dark-blue eyes doubled in size.
Shoot . He should’ve picked a different segue.
Covering her mouth with both hands, his mother squealed, “You’re engaged!” and rushed toward them. Yanking CeCe into a lung-crushing hug, she cried, “I’ve prayed for this moment for so long!”
Panic-stricken, CeCe tossed him a pleading glance that silently screamed, Fix this .
Heat scorched the back of his neck. Peachy . So far, they weren’t off to a great start. “Hang on, Mom. It’s not what you think. We’re—” We’re what? Why couldn’t he get the words out?
“Don’t tell me she’s pregnant,” his father said sternly.
“Dad!” Jayce cried, horrified by the suggestion. He seriously contemplated throwing himself and CeCe overboard to the mercy of the murky water below. Even becoming shark charcuterie had to be better than this.
CeCe made a wheezing sound, either from death by embarrassment or because his mother still hadn’t relinquished her enthusiastic choke hold.
“We’re not pregnant. Or engaged. Well, not technically. We’re fake engaged.” Good grief . He was floundering in his own work of fiction. The plan hadn’t sounded so complicated in his head.
His mother finally released CeCe and took a step back. “Wait. What exactly are you saying?”
Jayce clumsily recounted the details of the situation, focusing on Stacey and her predicament and how he’d tried to shield her real engagement by fabricating a fake one so she and Rob had a fair shot at happiness.
Somehow, the scenario sounded even more ludicrous the more times he explained it.
When he finally reached the end of his monologue, he asked, “So, what do you think? Can you guys play along for a week or two?”
“Sure, why not!” his mother said so quickly and cheerfully, Jayce wondered if he’d hallucinated her response.
“Karen!” his father chastised, equally baffled by her gung-ho reaction.
“Oh, lighten up, Raymond.” She gave a dismissive flick of her hand. “It could be fun.” Sliding an arm around CeCe’s waist, she added, “If the only way I get to claim this adorable girl as my daughter-in-law is by planning a fake wedding, then I’m going to plan the best fake wedding ever.”
“That’s sweet, Mom. But you won’t really need to do anything. Just don’t blow our cover if you’re approached by Gretchen or the paparazzi. I’d actually prefer you say as little as possible.”
“Nonsense. If you want me to play along, then I want to have some fun. That is, if your fuddy-duddy father doesn’t insist on ruining it for everyone by being his usual stick-in-the-mud self.
” She flashed a smug smile, and Jayce suddenly realized, for better or worse, agreeing to the plan had become some sort of parental competition.
“Jayce didn’t come by his acting abilities by accident, Karen. I did Hamlet in college, so I can certainly be a fake groom’s father for a few weeks. More convincingly than you’ll play your role, I’ll wager.”
“We’ll see about that.” Her eyes narrowed in a challenging glare.
Uh-oh. This didn’t bode well. He’d wanted his parents to quietly cooperate, not perform a Shakespearean tragedy.
Around every corner, his well-intentioned plan only grew more complicated.
Maybe he needed to call off the charade before things got out of hand.
But whenever he looked at CeCe by his side, wearing his ring, he couldn’t bring himself to take that step, as if their tangled illusion had become far more tantalizing than the truth.