“This cake is something else,” Lucinda said suddenly beside me, and I glanced at her.
The cake was in the shape of a Tyrannosaurus, Hunter’s current favorite dinosaur, and it was incredibly detailed like it would come to life at any given moment.
“Chris clearly didn’t hold back,” I chuckled and helped Lucinda unload the cupcakes. I set out the plates on the table, although I doubted that the kids would even care about the cake when they were already enthralled with the bouncy castle.
“Maybe we should save the cake until the end of the party, send some of it home with the kids, so they can get hyped up on the sugar at their own homes,” Lucinda suggested. “We definitely don’t want them to throw up in the bouncy castle.”
“That’s evil,” I pointed out and laughed. “Brilliant, but so evil.”
Lucinda smirked and bowed her head in appreciation. “I will graciously accept your compliment.”
I laughed and nodded. “I think that’s a good idea, though.”
As I turned away, reaching for the cupcakes, which needed to go inside the party boxes, I paused and pressed my hand against my stomach. It felt like a sequence of bubbles danced inside my stomach and I smiled slightly.
The baby just kicked.
“You okay?” Lucinda asked me, noticing my hand on my stomach.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I assured her.
I still recalled how it felt the first time Hunter kicked when I was pregnant, so I knew what to expect. With this pregnancy, it felt as though the baby would never start kicking, as I was already in my second trimester, which was a lot later than when Hunter had kicked for the first time.
Chris came out from inside the house, carrying a large plastic container, and I knew exactly what was inside. Chris, Amelia, and Hunter had spent the entirety of last night, filling balloons with water to have a massive water balloon fight on the lawn today. They were like children, and I didn't protest in the least, as they were having so much fun, and it was so amazing to see them bonding.
Special moments like these I would cherish for the rest of my life.
A mischievous smile formed on his lips as his gaze met mine and he winked at me.
I smiled at him and watched as he called out to the kids. They came running as Chris pulled out the water balloons from the plastic container, screaming with excitement.
“He’s just a big kid, isn’t he?” Lucinda scoffed as she stood beside me.
“All men are,” I stated.
It was true. At times it felt as though I had three kids, as Chris was indeed a big kid. He was amazing with Hunter and Amelia, and even with all the kids at the party. It warmed my heart to see all the friends Hunter had made the past year in his new school, and luckily, he had his little sister at his school this year.
Chris and I didn’t have a big wedding, nor did we want to or need to. We already had everything that we had ever wanted, and only wanted to share our special day with people who mattered. Of course, my parents were thrilled when we told them the news that we were getting married, as they had always wished we would get married.
We got married a few months after we got engaged, and it has been the most wonderful time I had ever had. Being married to Chris was even better than I had ever imagined, and I loved my life with him, Hunter and Amelia. Oh, and Lucinda.
Lucinda was amazing with the two kids, and she helped me out a lot, which I was incredibly grateful for.
My attention trailed back to Chris, who was on the grass, pinned by Hunter, drenched from the water. His laugh was infectious, and I chuckled softly. I was really glad that he was having so much fun, as he had been working his ass off for the last eleven months, getting our marketing company off the ground.
After his altercation with George, Chris had refused to apologize to George, and both he and I decided that it would be better if we just quit and started our own company. Of course, all Chris’ previous clients followed him, so it wasn’t like were started from scratch, but he was still adamant to ensure that our residual income was strong and consistent every month.
Even though it had been a giant step – or more like a leap – I was both glad and relieved that we did it. Chris was right about George though. He was a massive flirt, and his actions were inappropriate, as we found out soon after we quit. He had an affair with a young – and married – employee, and had gotten her pregnant. She then later claimed that he had sexually harassed her, but no-one would know the truth. It was all over the newspapers, and I couldn’t help but think that that could have been me.
Our company, HACH Marketing, was small, but with our hard work, it was growing into a successful business we were both proud of. I loved working from home with Chris in the office he had built especially for us on the first floor, and the best part was that we were able to spend more time with the kids.
Hunter flourished more than I thought he would, and it warmed my heart to see him playing with his friends and his new sister. He also has been going for his biannual checkups with Dr. Mills, and he remained in remission, with no other incidents. He was doing really well, and I was so proud of him, and the little person he was becoming. The two kids were happy and were inseparable, and our little family shared everything.
The little flutters inside my belly made me glance down and I placed my hand against my stomach. Chris, who was drenched from head to toe, approached me with a sly grin.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him, but he ignored me completely and put his arms around me. He was cold and wet, but it was refreshing in this heat. He kissed my neck with his cold lips, and droplets of water dripped from his hair onto my face.
Chris loosened his grip on me, immediately looking down at my stomach, placing his hand lovingly against it. “And how is my boy doing?” he asked.
“He, or she, is doing fine. Been kicking up quite a storm,” I answered, and ran my fingers through my hair.
“Is that so?” Chris asked with a smile and glanced up at me. “It’s about time.”
“I know, right? Hunter’s kicks started a lot earlier,” I stated.
“When are you going to the doctor again, Hollie?” Lucinda asked.
“Next week. It’s an important visit,” Chris said proudly.
“Aren’t they all important?” Lucinda asked with a frown.
“Oh, for sure. But Chris is hoping that we will be able to see the sex. Last time, this little one didn’t give us anything,” I answered.
“It’s a boy, I’m telling you,” Chris stated confidently.
I approached him and slid my arms around his waist, his wet shirt cooling me down a bit. “Well, I don’t mind either. As long as the baby is healthy.”
“You’re such a liar. I saw you eyeing those pink baby blankets in the store the other day,” Chris retorted and I playfully nudged him in the ribs. Lucinda stepped away with a laugh after a few kids threatened to throw water balloons at her.
Chris held me tighter, glanced down at me and smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I smiled up at him and he kissed my forehead.
I had been happy in my life many times, but nothing came close to the happiness and joy I felt in my heart at that moment. I knew that our family was built to last and that our love was inconceivable and without limits, as we had overcome so much together. Even though our paths had split eight years ago, we managed to find a way back to each other, however shocking and improbable it may have been.
As good as things were, I knew that they would only get better from here.
I would have never imagined that Chris and I, who had broken up with such ferocity and anger in our hearts, would be married now, with a baby on the way!
I would have never thought that Chris – who hated my guts, or seemingly so – would turn out to be the love of my life.
I stifled a chuckle as a thought occurred to me and rested my head against his chest. Chris’s most important advertising campaign had turned out to be the one that brought
us together, and I didn’t possess even a shred of regret.
I had everything I had ever wanted and more.
My life was complete.
Fake Bride
Description
Find a new town.
Pick up my bags.
Disappear.
That’s what I did to get away from my abusive ex.
Chicago’s been great so far.
And what’s been even better?
The billionaire who owns the building.
So, what did I do when he asked me to play his fake wife?
I looked into his gorgeous eyes and nodded my head.
Let’s face it.
I could use that money.
And I could use his company.
Laird is nothing like my ex.
Giving him my heart means that I’ve left my past behind.
But what will happen in the future once that past comes knocking at my door?
Prologue: Trudie
Finally, I was starting to feel settled.
I had been in Chicago for about two weeks, and I was starting to actually feel comfortable where I was. Sure, my apartment was… not the best, we could put it that way. But it was definitely affordable, and I had to be careful to keep money saved up just in case I had to run again.
Maybe some people would find me too paranoid, but I had found that it was better to be too paranoid where Pete was concerned than be too relaxed. That was when he got you. That was how he’d always caught me off-guard.
Pete had been my boyfriend, unfortunately. Up until six months ago, when I’d fled New Mexico with nothing but the clothes on my back and the money I had saved up from working in Pete’s father’s car garage. Pete had never allowed me any kind of independence. While being with him, my freedom had been whittled away at. I never saw my old friends. I never went out alone. Even just going to the grocery store became an adventure of what I could do that wouldn’t make Pete angry. God help me if a man spoke to me. Pete would be furious at the man, and at me. He’d embarrass me in front of everyone, no matter where we were, and somehow make it my fault.
But he had given me that job at the garage. It was owned by his father and I worked in the office, away from the other mechanics, so Pete probably figured that his father and everyone else would keep an eye on me. Pete was a big guy, who could throw a mean punch—I knew that firsthand—and all the other mechanics were scared of him. None of them would’ve tried to flirt with me.
The salary hadn’t been much. But I had been in the office doing the payroll, so I’d been able to give myself a little bit more. Not much, but more than Pete thought that I was getting, and I was able to hide that money away. All in cash. If I’d opened a bank account, Pete might have noticed, especially if I had to go into the bank. But cash I could hide in an envelope underneath the instruction manual in the glove box of my car. I figured that Pete would have no reason to go in there, and that way if I had to make a break for it, the money was already in the car and I didn’t have to worry about grabbing it.
That had turned out to be a smart idea.
Someone shouted on the street outside the window and I jumped, my coffee cup rattling on its little plate. I still got startled when people raised their voices around me. Or when people reached out to touch me—often I’d flinch. I didn’t mean to. I certainly didn’t want to. But I couldn’t help it.
Pete hadn’t started out violent. I didn’t tell a lot of people about what had happened, for my own protection. The less people knew, the less they could divulge to Pete if he found me. But the few people who I had told bits and bobs to would ask me, how could you stay with him? How could you date someone like that?
He hadn’t started out like that, though. He had been kind, charming, facetious. He had told me that I was special, that he had never met anyone like me, that I made his day brighter. He had been supportive of my dreams, and when things had happened in my life like getting into a fight with a friend, he would tell me, you don’t need her, you deserve better friends than her.
I hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was too late. Until I was dependent on him, until I had cut myself off from everyone, until I was stuck. And the first time he’d hit me—he’d cried afterwards, begged me to forgive him, and had promised that he wouldn’t do it again. He’d looked horrified with himself and I’d loved him, so of course I had said it was all right, that I forgave him.
But then he’d done it again, and again. And again. Until he stopped apologizing and started saying that it was my fault, that I did this to him, that I just made him so angry he couldn’t control himself. Putting all the blame on me until I almost—but not quite—believed him.
Not all of me could believe him, though, and that was why I had squirreled away the money and prepared to get out. I’d known he would probably kill me if he caught me, and that wasn’t an exaggeration, so I had planned carefully for months. Waited until his guard was down, and played the dutiful, loving girlfriend as much as I could. Then, when he was going to be in Vegas for a friend’s bachelor party, I ran.
I drove into Texas, and then up into Oklahoma, then went west and didn’t stop until I got to Los Angeles and hit the ocean. I’d already found the person there that I wanted to find, someone in Venice Beach who was able to help me. Their work wasn’t exactly… legal, but I hadn’t been able to go through the legal channels. Those kinds of things could be traced. So this person had changed my name for me—for a hefty price, of course—and now on my passports and driver’s license and all that, it said Trudy Potter.
Of course my real name was Trudie Harris, my first name spelled with an ‘ie’ instead of a ‘y’, but anything to help get Pete off my back if he came to look for me. I’d wanted to change a lot more about myself, but the forger I’d gone to had told me not to.
“It’s easier if you just change a few little things, and one big thing,” she’d told me, smacking her bubble gum as she’d started to get to work on my fake forms of ID. If I actually wanted to do things like jury duty I’d still be listed under my real name, but that was the whole reason why I couldn’t go to courts and get my name legally changed—Pete could trace that.
Instead, I would use a fake name to start a new life. A fake birth certificate, a fake passport, fake work records, all with my new name. Ta-da.
I had gotten everything, and then driven out of Los Angeles as fast as I could. I’d gone up north to Portland, where I’d gotten my hair dyed blonde. I’d always wondered if I would look good blonde, and I’d splurged on getting it professionally done the first time, although I could always touch it up with something from a box later on. I was a natural brunette, but the blonde was a sort of dark honey blonde, and it went well with my hazel eyes. Or at least, I thought so. It looked not like a dye job but like I’d had this hair color my entire life, and I appreciated that.
Once I had finished in Portland, I had meandered, taking in the sights of Yosemite and other national parks, taking a road trip, until I got to Chicago.
I’d been here for two weeks, and I was hoping that now, at last, I would be able to relax and build a new life for myself. I was letting myself establish a routine in a way I hadn’t since Pete. Pete had organized my routines back then—not directly, he hadn’t written me up a schedule and put it on the fridge or anything. But my every choice had been dictated by how he would behave, how he would handle it. Now, routine could become something that was mine, something I asserted for myself. It made me feel like I had a bit of power and control back.
Part of my routine was selecting a place to work. I’d been terrified about that because, well, I couldn’t exactly put where I had last worked on my resume. I couldn’t have a potential employer calling up Pete’s dad. His father would tell Pete where I was for sure. Pete was popular, everyone loved him. Nobody would understand why I had run or what my problem was. He was probably painting me as a crazy person or a bitch right now to everybody in town. And our town hadn’t been all that large.
<
br /> When I’d gotten to Chicago, I had money saved up from working jobs like a dishwasher at a mom and pop diner off the highway, or a maid in a rundown motel. The kind of under the table jobs where the person just needed someone to help them for a month and didn’t care where you came from so long as you weren’t wanted by the FBI. I found a kind of co-op place to live, and the woman who ran it had told me to stay away from corporate places and find someplace like a coffee shop to work.
I wasn’t really into those artisanal coffee shops that sprung up, or the counterculture hipster ones, or the big chain ones like Starbucks. Luckily, there was an unpretentious place right near Logan Square that I could go to called Buzz. I liked it. There wasn’t a ton of décor but there were plenty of places to work and the coffee was amazing—and they had really, really good cinnamon rolls that I had to be careful not to eat too many of or I’d die of a sugar overload. Edith—that was the woman who owned my co-op place—put in a good word for me, spoke to the owner, and I got the job. I still didn’t know what she said to the guy but so long as I was now a barista with a steady income, I didn’t care. She could’ve told him I had lost all of my family in a fire for all I knew.
The upper floor of the building held various offices, as was typical in Chicago. I had lived in the desert all my life, in a smaller town, and I had never seen so many tall buildings until I had started my little road trip. Even after LA and Portland, though, Chicago was something else. Holy crap. So many skyscrapers everywhere. I couldn’t believe it. It made me feel like I was a part of something, for the first time. Inside of somewhere, a part of a web, connected.
One of the offices I was pretty sure was a magazine of some kind. Sports? Something like that.
Oh, and Edith helped me to go to the local Goodwill and find some proper clothes that fit. I’d been wearing the same few clothes for months and had been using them while I’d been doing waitressing and dishwashing and maid service, so they were worn to shreds. Now I had some nice, new clothes, clothes that I looked nice in.
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