by T Gephart
“I was just making sure. I didn’t want you still being mad and leaving me to wrestle this gift basket into a cab all by myself.” She lifted the basket in question, hiding herself entirely behind the cellophane-wrapped gift.
“Belle, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t have people lining up to help you. I still can’t believe you convinced Lincoln to buy your freaking creamer.”
“I already told you. We were out and he was coming over anyway.” She shrugged like it made perfect sense to her. “I still think you should call him. He was really good-looking.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I feigned disinterest, pretending like he wasn’t the hottest guy I’d seen in a long time. And his kiss . . . wowza. Anyway, none of that mattered, he was in the past and we were never going to see each other again.
Belle collected her oversized handbag while I slipped on my shoes. Unlike last time—when we’d made a mercy dash to the hospital—I wasn’t wearing heels and a dress. Instead I was wearing my favorite pair of jeans, a faded bar T-shirt from the place I worked at all the way through undergrad, and a pair of runners. It was the perfect Sunday attire, no structured suits or sky-high stilettos which formed most of my weekly wardrobe.
Together we carried the large basket down the stairs and hailed a cab to the hospital. Belle talked the whole way there, trying to prepare me for this baby who apparently looked like an extra from a horror movie.
“Belle!” Hayley’s eyes lit up when we entered the room. “And you brought the entire baby section of Target with you.”
“Hi, Hayley,” I smiled, my hands occupied by the oversized basket Belle had forgotten she was helping to carry. “I can’t believe you had a baby less than two days ago, you look amazing.”
That wasn’t me trying to make her feel better either, she did look great. Her skin was clear and her eyes sparkling, and if there was ever an advertisement to sell motherhood, Hayley should be starring in it.
“Oh, thank you. Bobbie is honestly a dream baby. I’m not sure what I did to deserve it, but so far, all she does is sleep and eat. Barely any fussing at all.” Hayley’s face got animated talking about her new little girl.
“Bobbie? You settled on a name?” Belle whisper-yelled, doing her best not to wake the baby who was swaddled in what looked to be a plastic tub.
Hayley nodded, smiling broadly as she added, “Well, I really wanted to name her after my gran. She bought me my first pointe shoes and paid for all my ballet lessons until I was eighteen. She always believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. But Roberta is such an old-fashioned name, I decided to call her Bobbie instead. You want to see her? She’s sleeping but you can pick her up and she doesn’t even blink.”
“Ummm,” Belle stuttered. “Shouldn’t we just let her sleep? I don’t want her to cry and break her winning streak.”
“Okay, maybe later,” Hayley agreed, laying back in the bed. “Now let’s talk about regular stuff. I don’t want to turn into that woman who only talks about her baby.”
Belle happily launched into animated conversation, barely taking a breath as she filled Hayley in on everything from the weather, to the cab driver we’d had on the ride over. And while she was chatting, I dared to steal a look at the rumored hideous baby.
“She’s really cute.” I tried to hide my surprise as I peered underneath the fluffy blanket. Her eyes were scrunched up tight, oblivious to what was going on around her.
Belle must have been high, or traumatized, because Bobbie wasn’t even close to being ugly.
“Awww thanks,” cooed Hayley. “I think so too but I think every parent says that.”
Belle looked at me bewildered, scooting over to see Bobbie. “Wow.” She caught herself, recovering quickly. “Well, of course she’s cute. Didn’t I say that?”
I tried not to laugh, my sister eyeing me hard not to say anything different. “Hey, we should get some coffees or something.” Belle tugged me toward the door. “You could probably use the caffeine, right?”
“I would kill for a decent coffee right now,” Hayley moaned. “But not from the hospital cafeteria, that place is the worst.”
After getting Hayley’s coffee order, and Belle assuring her we’d be right back, she pulled me out of the hospital room and into the hall.
“What was that? Can they switch babies on you? Because that was not the kid that came out of her vagina.” Belle almost hyperventilated. “We have to tell her there’s been a mix-up. Maybe you should flag down a doctor and see if they can do a DNA test.”
I laughed, putting a hand on my sister’s arm to try and calm her. “Could it be that maybe no baby would look cute the minute they were born? I’m almost positive that is Hayley’s baby, and I think it would be really hard to try and get a doctor to do a DNA test on a baby and her mother.”
Obviously Bobbie just needed a day to “get cute,” Lord knows, we’ve all been there. “Can we go back inside and you not act weird?” I asked Belle, hoping she wasn’t going to try and sneak a hair sample from Hayley and the baby and run it down to a lab. “Because I think it’s bad enough we just got here and we’re out in the hall instead of visiting like we should.”
“Well, we have to go get coffee first. I only suggested it as a means to talk to you privately.” Her eyes got wide, horrified her friend might learn the truth. “I know I’m a terrible person for saying all of that stuff about the baby, but I was tired. Please don’t tell Hayley, I don’t want her to hate me.”
“Like I would do that? Come on, Belle.” I rolled my eyes slightly offended she would think I’d sell her out. “Go back into the room, hold the baby and be the loving, caring friend you are, and I will go get the coffees.”
“Really? You’d do that?”
“Of course, there’s a place right around the corner. Coffee is great and they have desserts as well.” I didn’t bother telling her how I knew, and how it had been the venue for my fake date with Edwin . . . Lincoln. All that mattered was I knew it existed, and it was close enough I could run and get coffees and be back before they got cold.
“You’re the best sister ever.” She threw her arms around me, her over-the-top gratitude earning us stares from people walking through the halls.
I hugged her back before pulling myself free. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Now go back and be with Hayley. I’ll be quick.”
She twirled, mouthing me another thank you over her shoulder before disappearing back into the room. And since I had a mission, I walked with purpose through the corridors and down to the main exit, finding myself outside on the street.
It didn’t take long for me to find Cups, the cute little coffee shop I’d visited with Lincoln. Molly, the waitress, smiled as I walked in, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she recognized me or was just generally cheery.
“Hi!” She grinned. “Where’s your fiancé?” The mystery why she was smiling, solved. “You must be so happy. He is one of the nicest customers ever and so good-looking. I honestly thought he and Nate were. . .” She leaned in closer. “Well, you know.”
Uhhhhhhhh.
And there was another complication I didn’t need.
It was supposed to be a quick coffee run. Get in, get out, and go back to Belle, Hayley and the baby. But while I anticipated Molly might recognize me, I hadn’t expected a full-blown conversation. Nor needing to confirm my pretend relationship status. It had been amusing, and maybe even a little cute that first night. But those were feelings I no longer had.
Of course, with any luck I wouldn’t be near the hospital and therefore the coffee shop again anytime soon. So was it really worth the effort to tell her the truth? No, no it wasn’t, resolving to pretend to be Lincoln’s future bride if it meant I could get in and out faster.
“Thank you so much, we’re so blissfully happy,” I lied, plastering on my fake smile. “And Nate will be our best man. He’s so great, one of these days he’s going to make the right guy an amazing husband.”
The lies passed so easily from my li
ps, my smile and gaze not dropping as I pretended to be pathetically in love.
“I’m so glad.” Her tone sweetened to match mine as she looked me over. “Well, what can I get you today?”
I rattled off my name with our order for three coffees to go and three oversized chocolate chip cookies. I’d wanted to get another piece of that amazing Key Lime pie I’d tasted the other night but carrying coffee and three slices of pie would have been difficult. Anyway, the cookies looked just as good.
Molly bagged up my cookies before moving to the coffee machine to whip up our order, and I stepped to the side to allow her to serve other customers while I looked enviably at the cake counter. I silently mourned the fact I’d never taste any of them again. Not only because I hoped my hospital visits in the future were few and far between, but obviously now I was a compulsive liar, I could never come back again.
I hadn’t realized I’d zoned out until I heard Molly excitedly call out my name. I assumed it was because my order was ready and she really loved her job, until I looked up and saw a super fit, tall, and really good-looking guy wearing hospital scrubs.
Oh. Shit.
And judging from the look of utter bewilderment he was giving me, there was no need to guess who the hot doc was.
Nate.
Of course, it’s fucking Nate.
Why, God, Why?
The one time I tell a lie, and I’m cursed to eternal damnation.
“What a coincidence.” Molly shimmered, her joy so palpable she was almost levitating. “We were just talking about you. And really, there is no greater choice for the best man.”
Nate coughed, raising his brow at me before looking back at Molly. I was positive he thought either one or both of us was tripping and wondering if he needed to get out the Narcan.
“Hi, Nate.” I waved, because seriously, why stop now. I’d already committed to the shitshow which was this situation, what was another few extra offenses. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hiiiiiii,” he responded cautiously, no doubt trying to work out my angle. “Yeah, small world.”
And either Nate didn’t want me to suffer any more than I already had, or he honestly thought he could possibly know me. I mean, he was an ER doctor, right? Wasn’t that what Lincoln had said? He must be used to working on the fly and meeting a lot of people. Totally conceivable that we knew each other and he just couldn’t place me.
Or he was an angel.
I’d be happy with either outcome, as long as I could get my coffee and get gone as soon as possible and not look like the biggest fraud in town.
He gave Molly his order—cappuccino, light on the foam—paid and then came to join me at the cake counter. And while I’d been whispering thanks earlier, my thoughts of gratitude might have been a tiny bit short-lived.
“So best man, huh? Better get my tux dry cleaned.” He smiled, making it clear that my quick and easy getaway was no longer an option. “Oh, and you’ll have to let me know where you and . . .” He waved his hand, looking at me with expectation, “are registered.”
“Lincoln,” I coughed out, hoping Molly couldn’t hear us.
“Lincoln?” he asked, his brows receding into his hairline before I nodded. “Well, that is interesting.”
“It’s just a small misunderstanding,” I started to explain, cursing myself for not setting Molly straight from the beginning.
“Well, considering my best friend hasn’t told me he’s getting married, I’d say the misunderstanding is pretty big.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“It was a stupid joke, he thought I was going to propose and then made a big deal about it. And then when we came here for coffee, he thought it would be funny to tell Molly we were engaged.”
It sounded insane when I said it out loud, and honestly, I’m not sure how I found it cute in the first place. Had we been deranged? Because none of the other night’s activities—especially concluding with me going to his hotel room—were the actions of sane people.
“Ummm, he thought you were going to propose? How long have you been dating?” He chuckled, less shocked than I’d have expected.
“Okay, so we’re not. Well, not really. We had one date. And honestly, we’re probably never going to see each other again. But I hear you’re a really nice guy and if we were getting married, you’d absolutely be the best man. I mean, anyone would have to be better than Lincoln, right?” The words flew out of my mouth in a rush as I lost all composure.
I could argue in front of a jury, deal with a judge who hated women, and present my briefs to the senior partners, all without working up a sweat. Why I’d become a hot mess was beyond me.
“Oh really?” He tilted his head. “What did he do to piss you off?”
“Zara, coffees are ready!” Molly called out, my silent thanks offered to the heavens.
“It honestly doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’ll never be back here again so I’ll let him decide how he wants to stage our breakup. Although I think Molly might be secretly holding a torch for him, so it might work out in his favor. Nice meeting you, have a nice life.” I took a huge gasp of air, plastered a smile on my face and walked to where my coffees were waiting.
With any luck I could collect the paper cups and continue walking without breaking my stride, the allure of disappearing into oblivion so tempting it was almost a turn on.
“Wait!” Nate called after me, my hands just about to grasp the paper tray filled with caffeine goodness.
“Shit,” I cursed under my breath. “Yeah?” I turned around, continuing the ruse for Molly’s benefit.
“Let me walk with you.” He winked, collecting his coffee which was now miraculously ready too.
Really Molly? You couldn’t just have been a little less efficient.
“Surrreeeeee,” I heard myself say, regretting it immediately. “I was heading back to the hospital anyway.”
Well done, Zara.
Well.
Fucking.
Done.
Lincoln
It took two days to locate Edwin Carlisle.
Thirty-eight hours if you wanted to get technical, and I couldn’t have been less impressed with my findings.
I’d assumed he’d be some eighty-year-old retiree with no hair and a heart condition. Or a middle-aged guy with a receding hairline and an unflattering paunch.
But Edwin Carlisle was a thirty-year-old investment banker from Manhattan who came from old money. And when I say he was from Manhattan, I mean his family owned four high-rises across the island. He’d been named after his grandfather, got an MBA from Wharton, and while being engaged a couple of times, he was currently single.
The guy wasn’t even ugly, working out at least five times a week according to his profile in Business Weekly’s 30 under 30 and had a disappointingly full head of hair.
Perfect.
So not only was the piece of shit young, but he was also rich, successful, handsome and fucking single.
And while Zara—or Belle—hadn’t fessed up as to why finding him had been so important, I could string together the general idea. He was obviously some dude she was supposedly trying to hook up with. I wasn’t sure if it was some random missed connection, an online dating match that fell through, or some childhood pen pal that she lost contact with, but she had feelings for this guy.
Clearly, they hadn’t ever met, or she would’ve known I wasn’t him. Because in addition to me not being born with a silver spoon up my ass, I also didn’t have blond hair or drive a Maserati.
I bet this guy had a really small dick.
Anyway, none of it really mattered other than I had a fucking decision to make.
Well, it was more of conundrum.
Did I take the information I’d gathered, including his residential address, and hand it over to Zara? Or did I dump everything into the industrial shredder and pretend like it never happened? It’s not like she even asked for it, hell, pretty sure she said she didn’t want to know.
Or that she
’d find him herself.
Or some other bullshit which basically spelled out that she didn’t want me involved.
So, if I was to toss the dossier I’d compiled in the trash and forgot it ever happened, what would be the harm? I sure as hell wasn’t going to gift wrap the bastard for her and hoped things worked out for them. And if that made me bitter and twisted, I was fine with that.
I didn’t even have to meet the guy to know he didn’t deserve Zara. He’d want a trophy wife, some silicone inflated Barbie doll who could suck his dick on demand and still look good on the society pages. And fuck having a career, her duties would be popping out two or three Carlisle heirs and chairing a few noted charities. She could kiss that Supreme Court Justice idea goodbye.
Oh, he’d be charming at the start. Tell her everything she wanted to hear about how he’d support her fucking ambition and how he found powerful women sexy. But the minute her heart was involved, he’d change his fucking tune pretty damn quick.
Amazing how I’d mapped out the whole scenario, and I didn’t know either of them well. Except, as weird as it was to admit, I felt like I did know her. At least, the parts that were important.
And yeah, I knew I was acting like a dick, assuming she’d even fall for that asshole. But I knew how fucking sweet that kiss we’d shared had been, and even the slight chance he might get a taste of that was too much for me to handle.
Anyone else.
If we never saw each other, and she went on to live a long happy life with some other guy, I think I’d be able to deal.
Just not him.
Not the guy she thought I was.
It was irrational and more than a little ridiculous, but I didn’t care.
Anyway, I’d made it clear that if she wanted to see me again, she was going to have to call me. And since there were no guarantees that would happen, all of it could be one big moot point. At least that was the lie I told myself knowing there was no way I wasn’t ever seeing her again. Nope, I wouldn’t force her, but I’d find a goddamn way.