Ten Rules for Faking It

by Sophie Sullivan

  Chris shoved a hand through his hair and looked up at the moon, then down at the ground. “I just thought it’d make things easier on you.”

  She nodded, giving nothing away. “It did. Thank you.”

  She turned and went into her building. Didn’t even say good night. Chris stood there and watched her go, a little piece of him waiting to see if she’d turn back. She didn’t. Then he went home. He had work to do. It was a success; things were good. This is exactly what you wanted.

  * * *

  He avoided Everly most of the next day, which was cowardly but necessary. Her Facebook recap was charming, and even though he’d made sure to schedule his meetings off-site for her in-office hours, he’d still tuned in to the show. Sitting in his car, between appointments, he listened to the end of Stacey’s playlist.

  “That was Old Dominion, in case you didn’t know, with their newest single. Speaking of newly single,” Stacey said, letting the word hang.

  Stage laughter cut in, and Chris smiled, knowing that his deejay was messing around with the soundboard.

  “Uh-oh, the daggers my producer is shooting me through this glass makes me glad it’s triple pane. What? Oh. She’s shaking her head. It’s not. Which means I’d better not make any corny jokes.”

  Chris could picture the look on Everly’s face. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat.

  “No more joking around. Thank you, SUN listeners, for sending in your very worthy bachelors for my best friend. You may have read on our Facebook page that date number one was a success. She doesn’t like to talk much on the air, so I had to get her preapproval for this, but Everly’s going to answer a couple of questions. You ready?”

  Chris’s eyes popped open as Everly’s “Yes” came through his speakers.

  “Can we rate the dates from one to ten?” Stacey asked.

  “No.”

  “Would you date Owen again?”

  “It would be cheating to tell you,” Everly said, her soft voice sending a jolt of energy over Chris.

  “No cheating. That’s what got us here in the first place.”

  “Stacey,” Everly’s voice warned.

  “My bad. Sorry. What’s the most important quality in a man?”

  Chris sat straighter.

  “Honesty. Transparency.”

  “Good answer. I totally would have gone with abs, but yours is nice, too.”

  Stacey went on to share some of the highlights that Everly shared and then read a series of Twitter questions from listeners. Chris turned off the radio and grabbed his phone from the passenger’s seat. Opening the social media app, he typed in the hashtag everlyafter.

  @962SUN I went to high school with Owen. He’s the best. You should totally date him again. #everlyafter

  @962SUN My nephew is single and better-looking than the guys you chose this week. DM me #everlyafter

  @962SUN Simon sucks. Team Everly. #everlyafter

  Chris nodded in agreement and scrolled through a few more. They’d had over five hundred new followers on Twitter alone. He’d hired a remote social media person to work specifically on the traffic brought in through this. He hoped Everly wasn’t scrolling through this stuff. There was a lot of positive, but there was negative as well, and she didn’t need the extra stress. What he hadn’t anticipated was the way it would play out for the selected bachelors.

  Even if this Owen guy wasn’t the one Everly chose, he’d have no trouble getting dates in the future. None of the candidates would. This was, in a sense, giving a lot of guys their fifteen minutes of fame. What’s it giving Everly? Hopefully, everything she deserves, including a good guy.

  And no, that doesn’t get under your goddamn skin because this is exactly what was supposed to happen. His phone rang, saving him from his own thoughts.

  “Hey,” he said. He started up his car and pulled into traffic.

  “You there yet?” His brother wasn’t known for patience.

  “Just about. I got tied up in meetings. I thought you were going to fly out here.”

  Something rattled in the background before Noah replied, “I am. But I just want your opinion first. See if, on first glance, it’s worth taking my time to check it out.”

  Noah wanted him to take a look at a run-down mansion that was rumored to have been owned by a deceased Hollywood starlet. It was on the water, which, despite the fact that he lived in California, Chris didn’t get out to enough.

  Taking the exit for Harlow Beach, they talked more about the property. His brother was looking at a few different ones, trying to decide if he wanted to step away from their father’s empire and forge his own way. Chris understood the thought but had worked too hard to jump through all his father’s hoops to give up when he was this close. About twenty minutes later, Chris pulled up in front of a sprawling estate. That was the only word for it. The house and the grounds, both overlooking the ocean, were massive.

  “I don’t think anyone’s lived here in a while,” Chris said into the phone, getting out of his car and leaning on the back of it. High, wrought iron gates let him see through to the overgrown yard, the worn, cobbled path that led to the house.

  “Is it big?” Excitement shook his brother’s voice.

  “You’ve seen it. Of course it’s big.”

  “You say that to all the girls.”

  Despite rolling his eyes, Chris laughed. “Jesus. What are you? Fourteen? It’s what I saw online. Overlooks the ocean, the exterior needs a ton of work, and the yard is a mini-jungle. But it’s got potential, bro. Serious potential.”

  “You think I’m a fool?”

  Chris pushed off his car and walked closer to the edge of the embankment, stared out at the water, breathed in the salt air, and let go of his own worries. He’d sat on Everly’s stoop, waiting for her to come home last night. What did he know about being a fool? A lot.

  “You’ve got other places to look at, so I say you take your time to choose. You’re sure about branching out to the West Coast?” It’ll suck if Noah ends up here just as I head home. He wouldn’t negatively influence his brother’s thoughts, though. That was their dad’s job.

  “I feel restless and trapped. I don’t know what I need or what I’m looking for just yet, but I need to strike out on my own, Chris. I’m tired of him turning every idea I have into either his baby or something entirely different from how I’d envisioned.”

  He nodded even though his brother couldn’t see him. “What were you thinking? Buying and flipping for yourself?”

  There was a pause, and Chris realized, in the quiet, he missed his brothers, his mom, and even his sister. He needed to reconnect with them soon.

  “I’m thinking of a luxury bed and breakfast. Or something like that.”

  Chris smiled. “Really? Hospitality isn’t the same as real estate, bro. Way longer to make a profit, and you have to basically wait on people’s whims. We’re only an hour from LA here. You could make good money off this buy if you fix it up. Even with the costs of hiring a crew and renovations.”

  “Now you sound like him. Buy, fix, sell. I want to build a legacy. My own. I think. Something he can’t get in the way of. Something that, even if it crumbles, will tell a story a hundred years down the road.”

  “Like this house.”

  “Exactly.”

  The drive back gave Chris time to think about what Noah said, about building his own legacy. He believed he’d be doing that very thing. Once he took over as head of communications for all his father’s companies, he had plans that would unite and strengthen every one of them. His brothers pushed back more with their father than Chris did. Mostly because he worked better if he had a tangible goal set in front of him to reach. He was almost there.

  Switching on the radio, thinking about what he could grab for dinner that would be quick and filling, he pressed the button for another station. He liked to see what the other guys were up to.

  Ads. Ads. “You’re listening to 102.9 CALI. Up next, we’re talking
to Simon Westwood of Westwood Paper Products. Some of you might know him from his store, which is having a massive blowout sale this weekend. Any kind of paper for all your paper needs.”

  Chris’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Is that …

  “Some of you might know him as the jilted former lover of one Miss Everly Dean of 96.2 SUN. Did you guys hear her outburst a couple of weeks ago? Smart people that we are, one of our deejays recorded the audio before they took it off their website. Listen to this.”

  Everly’s voice filled the interior of his car like anger filled his gut.

  “I found Simon in bed with his personal assistant this morning. You do not want to know how she was assisting him.” Background sound effects cut in and then, “If you happen to find a man who looks like Chris Pine, acts like Chris Hemsworth, smiles like Chris Pratt, and has a body like Chris Evans’s, I’ll rethink things. But until then? I am officially off the market.”

  The deejay came back live. “All I can say is, ‘Poor Simon.’ I mean, this guy gets his life aired out in the most public of ways without being able to share his side of the story, and then his ex announces she’s done with men only to turn around and become the star of her own dating game show. Well, we’ve got Simon’s back, and he’s telling his side right after this next music break. You can count on us to give you the goods and the tunes.”

  Chris smacked the steering wheel. “Son of a bitch.”

  They’d had a contingency plan for Simon worked out with the legal department so he couldn’t come at them for defamation. Everly had not said his last name, which was a huge saving grace. Chris hadn’t considered the loser would not only find a way to make the public feel sorry for him but use the momentum of the contest to pump up his own business. His jaw tightened. “You should have.” He definitely should have thought about the guy striking back. Shit.

  He also hadn’t considered anger he’d feel on Everly’s behalf. As if the jerk hadn’t already embarrassed her and treated her poorly, he was still using her for his own personal and professional gain.

  The car ahead cut him off, making Chris slam on the brakes and jolt forward. He swore even as he forced his breathing under control. He might not have anticipated this move by her ex, but he’d be strategizing their next ones. If that was what she wanted. He needed to see her and talk to her, because there was no way he’d put ratings above her mental health. If there was any chance of her letting Simon get under her skin, he’d call the promotion off and just deal with the consequences.

  [14]

  Everly had emptied her entire closet. Every article of clothing she owned was scattered around her small bedroom. Lifting the bottle she’d set on her nightstand to her lips, she finished off what was left of the cranberry vodka cooler she’d opened. It tasted bitter and warm.

  “I see you’ve been busy,” Stacey said, walking into Everly’s bedroom.

  She’d heard the door open, so she wasn’t surprised to see her friend stroll into the room. Why had she given her a key again? Oh, because someone should have access to her home in the case Everly slipped in the shower and couldn’t get to the door. In the event she got a cat and needed someone to feed it. Right. When you’re out of town on all your spontaneous adventures?

  “I’m minimizing.” Hands on her hips, she stared around the room, wondering where to start. That was the “in” thing to do, right?

  Stacey gestured with her chin toward the two empty bottles on her table. “Looks like you’re drinking.”

  Everly shot her a look and went to the pile in the middle of her bed. Her preppy phase. Collared shirts, pleated skirts, and pale cardigans. She scooped it all up and carried it to the corner of her room. The over-and-done pile. That pile was going to be huge.

  She sank onto the side of the bed. “I’m cleaning out my closet and actually getting rid of things, rather than convincing myself I’ll wear them one day. I deserve a drink or two.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Stacey, giving her what she hoped was a cheeky smile. “The new me. This is the thirty-year-old me.”

  Stacey chuckled, leaned on the doorjamb. “Amen, sister. As long as your thirty-year-old, independent self isn’t drowning some misplaced sorrows over your asshat ex rehashing your dirty laundry—no pun intended—while reenacting The Purge on your poor wardrobe.”

  Eyeing a very unique pile by the closet door, Stacey crouched down. “What the—?” She lifted crocheted cardigans—or what were meant to be cardigans—shawls, and scarves. She arched her brow so high it almost disappeared into her hair. “What were you thinking?”

  Everly giggled as she stood up. “Dad wanted to buy a boat, and it pissed Mom off. She hates the water. So she took up crocheting. It was a dark time that resulted in all of that. I should hang on to those and give them to you on special occasions.”

  Stacey stood up. “You’re a mean drunk.”

  Everly’s phone buzzed on her nightstand. She spun a little too fast in her attempt to look at it. Okay, maybe she didn’t drink all that often, and maybe she’d started today because Simon the Snake had slithered even lower than expected.

  CHRIS: I need to drop by and talk to you. Is that okay?

  Everly picked up her phone and typed:

  Why not?

  He might as well join the party. She set the phone down and turned again, slower this time. She looked at the mess in her room and sighed, frustrated with herself. “You know, I never wear this stuff. Why do I even have it?”

  Moving into the room, Stacey went to the new-and-improved pile that they’d mostly purchased last week for her dates. “Because it’s hard to let go of things and say good-bye to them even when we should? Because each of them represents a stage in your life? A little piece of who you were, even if you don’t want to be that person anymore?”

  Everly snorted and walked to the bed. She curled up in the middle of it, her body curving around the pile Stacey was admiring. “You’re pretty philosophical about my spring cleaning.”

  Stacey lifted an armful of the garments and walked to the open door of the closet. She began hanging things back up. “It’s summer. Too late for spring cleaning.”

  “Or really early,” Everly said, her tongue feeling thick.

  “Simon is a dick.”

  “Agreed.”

  Stacey walked back to the bed, tilted her head, and stared at Everly, whose eyes were feeling kind of heavy. “You’re such a lightweight, Dean.”

  She nodded, her cheek brushing up and down against the softness of her pillowcase. “Lightweight loser in love.”

  “You weren’t in love with him.”

  Everly rolled to her back. “I wasn’t. Thank God. But I never am. I’m no better than my parents, Stace. I can’t make a decision and stick to it.”

  Stacey sank down onto the bed, more clothes draped over her arm. “Bullshit. You’re nothing like your parents. And when you actually meet the one, you’ll stick. You haven’t ditched me.”

  Moving just her eyes, she looked at her friend. Blond hair fell over her bare shoulder. Stacey always seemed so sure. What was that like?

  She poked Stacey’s arm. “You’d just hunt me down.”

  “As long as you know it. Don’t let him get to you. It works in our favor.” She got back up and worked on returning Everly’s clothes to their rightful place.

  “My mom called. She heard Simon’s side of things. ‘Men make mistakes,’ she said. ‘Love is hard. Impossible if you’re going to give up without a fight.’”

  The hangers clattered together. “Then let your mom date Simon on one of her breaks from your dad.”

  Everly laughed, pressing a hand to her stomach so it didn’t jostle around inside. She was a lightweight. “That’s gross.”

  The buzzer to her apartment sounded, and she rolled to her side too quickly, which made her groan. “Forgot to say Chris is dropping by.”

  Stacey bounced up. “Perfect. Any more than two and it’s the start of a party. Your favorite. I’ll ge
t it. You get up and help me put this shit away.”

  “Yes, Mom,” she called, throwing her arm over her face and not moving.

  She wanted to have a little nap. Stacey and Chris could figure out what to do about Simon. She’d just follow their lead. God, wouldn’t it be great if I could actually release control like that? You don’t need to let go of the control—you need to take it. She sighed. Her mildly drunk self was right. She needed to be in charge of what came next. Other than putting her clothes away and figuring out something for dinner.

  “Spring cleaning,” she heard Stacey say.

  “It looks like spring threw up. I’ve never seen you in anything other than black and gray.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. He’d seen her the other night after her date.

  Everly slowly uncovered her eyes, her stomach rolling for an entirely different reason now. One she didn’t want to examine right this minute.

  Chris’s voice was thick with amusement. “Who knew you had this much color in your wardrobe.”

  “Hi.”

  Chris stopped where Stacey had, in the doorway of her bedroom, surveying her space. His hair was windblown, and he wore a dark T-shirt and jeans. He looked good. He looked relaxed, but he must be here for a reason. Why are you not freaking out over what the reason could be?

  “Hi.” Their eyes met and held. A shiver zipped through her body like lightning. There and gone in the blink of an eye. She didn’t blink. She just stared.

  “Fascinating conversation, but I’m going to go make Two Drinks Max here some coffee.”

  Chris chuckled, and Everly’s eyes moved down to his throat to watch the way it moved with his laughter. She liked the sound of it. Had she ever noticed that about a man before? She thought about Owen’s smile from the other night. He’d had a nice laugh, hadn’t he? Or had she been too nervous to realize?

  “Wouldn’t have pegged you as a lightweight,” he said, moving farther into the room.

  Like the earth jolted a little, Everly’s head spun, and it wasn’t the booze. There was something surreal, almost dreamlike, about Chris Jansen, Mr. Suit and Tie, who’d barely spoken to her over the last year, standing in her bedroom. More incredible? She wasn’t panicked. When had that happened? She continued to stare, waited for the bubbles of anxiety to hit the surface. All she felt, though, was disappointment that she probably looked like a bigger mess than her room. She realized too late that all her clothes were on display, and some of them were not ones she wanted to share with this man.