by Lili Valente
And no, I don’t want eleven happy accidents, but three or four would be nice.
More than nice.
I already have good friends, hobbies I enjoy, and work I love. All that’s missing is the family, and I’m tired of waiting.
I’m also…lonely. I have more extended family than most, but I still come home to an empty house after work every day. My friends and family are too busy with their own lives and careers to make time for socializing during the week. There are times when I ache for the sound of another human voice. Or for a hug at the end of a long day.
The thought of opening the door to Felicity’s laughter for the next few months is enough to keep a smile on my face the rest of the morning.
I smile as I fetch the crib and slide it into the back of my truck. I smile as I pop over to the flower shop on Main Street to grab a bouquet for Aria. I’m still smiling as I hustle through the humid air and up the courthouse steps, even though it’s already pushing ninety and I’m wearing a suit.
I’m beginning to think my grin is unbreakable.
Then I push through the doors to the courthouse to see Aria standing by the windows, waiting for me in a shaft of morning light, and my smile falls clean away.
Chapter Ten
Nash
Aria’s hair is arranged in an elaborate pile on her head with wisps framing her face in a way that emphasizes her big eyes. She’s wearing a short, sleeveless white dress, revealing constellations of shoulder freckles that are almost unbearably cute. Her legs are also bare, and her high-heel sandals make them look even longer, and sexier, than usual.
She’s breathtaking, so beautiful it’s almost painful to look at her.
I nearly tell her so, but at the last minute I remember who I’m talking to and toss out a casual, “You clean up nice.”
She glances up from her phone, her focus flicking up and down my frame in a way that makes me feel the summer heat even though the courthouse air is cranking at full tilt. “Thanks. You too.” She tucks her cell into her purse and exhales through pursed lips. “Are those for me?”
For a moment I have no idea what she’s talking about—I’m still too distracted by how damned pretty she looks—but then I remember the flowers in my hand and hold them out.
“Yeah. Hope you like calla lilies. The woman at the shop said they were good wedding flowers.”
“They’re beautiful,” she says, a smile flashing on her face for a moment before it vanishes again. “Thank you.” She plucks at the cellophane wrapped around the flowers and lets out another shaky breath.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my pants. “Nervous?”
Her dark green eyes catch mine, making my tie feel too tight. “I just… I was up all night thinking,” she says, in a soft, troubled voice. “This isn’t just about you and me. Felicity is part of it, too, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt her.”
I fight the urge to get defensive.
This isn’t a personal attack; this is Aria being a good mother. She’s right to take Felicity’s needs into consideration.
“I understand,” I say. “But I think Felicity’s a sweet little girl. I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“Oh, I know, of course not,” Aria says in a rush, the certainty in her voice sending a rush of warmth through my chest. “I just… I mean… Even at the BBQ that night, when she’d just met you, she had so much fun playing with you and stealing the food off of your plate…” She bites her lip, looking so worried I have to fight the urge to pull her into my arms for a hug. “What if she gets attached? What happens when it’s time for us to end it and she doesn’t understand why you’re not around anymore?”
She has a point. One I haven’t really considered.
What will we do? I doubt there’s any standard protocol for how to handle an ongoing relationship with your fake-ex-wife’s baby, but I do know there’s always room in my life for another niece or nephew.
“Then I’ll be Uncle Nash,” I say with a shrug. “And I’ll see her whenever Mason comes over to my place. Maybe we can take her out on his boat together when she gets a little older. Things like that.”
Aria’s forehead wrinkles. “Really? You would do that?”
“I’d love to do that.” I smile. “As long as that’s okay with you.”
She hesitates, but after a moment, she nods. “That would be nice. And it’s very generous of you, to be open to caring for her and putting her well-being first, before any lingering animosity between the two of us.”
I shift uncomfortably in my dress shoes, regretting the B-word I let fly in the beer tent even more than I did already. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have started calling names. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it’s fine. I mean…I get it.” Aria fidgets with the cellophane again, before adding in a swift mumble, “I didn’t mean it, either. The stuff about your kiss. I was just caught off guard.”
“Sorry. I should have asked permission first.”
She waves a hand. “No, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I’ll ask next time.”
“Seriously, it’s no big deal.” She rolls her eyes, but her lips curve at the edges. “God, this is weird right? And awkward as hell?”
I laugh. “A little.”
“Acting like we were in love sounded easier when I was drunk.”
I reach out, taking her hand. “Just pretend I’m someone else.”
“What?” Her eyes widen as I step in, closing the distance between us.
“Is this okay?”
“It’s fine,” she murmurs, tilting her head back to meet my gaze. “Who should I pretend you are?”
“I’m sure you have a fantasy guy. Right?” I wrap an arm around her waist, fighting to keep my body under control as her breasts brush against my chest. She’s the wrong woman, but I can’t deny that she feels very right pressed against me.
“A fantasy guy?” She arches a brow. “Like someone famous?”
“Or not. Just whoever you imagine you’re with when you’re in the mood to imagine those sorts of things.”
Aria’s cheeks flush. “Well, this conversation just took a racy turn.”
“Nothing wrong with playing pretend,” I drawl, refusing to let my own imagination get started. Because right now I wouldn’t be imagining anything about anyone except Aria.
Aria in this dress, and …out of this dress.
“I’ll stick with reality for now, thanks.” A smile tugs at her lips. “Like I said, you’re easy on the eyes this morning.”
“Thank you, darlin’.”
“Don’t call me darlin’,” she says in a husky voice that makes my boxer briefs feel tighter than they did before.
“Doll face?”
She wrinkles her nose.
“Sugar britches?” I ask, feeling absurdly proud of myself when she laughs.
“Wow, you’re bad at that,” she teases, her eyes flashing into mine. “I’m going to call you Meaty, in honor of the muscle.”
“And I’ll call you Red.” I bend my head closer to hers, aching for another taste of her in a way that probably isn’t healthy, and certainly isn’t pretend.
“Red and Meaty,” she murmurs. “Sounds like the floor of a slaughter house.”
I grunt. “Then I guess I’ll have to stick with baby, baby,” I say, and then I kiss her, a long, slow kiss that makes my blood rush and my balls ache.
And then, suddenly, I’m hard, so hard I know she’s going to feel it if I don’t put some distance between us.
“Better?” I release her, stepping back fast.
Aria blinks up at me. “Better?”
“The kiss? Better than last night?”
Her gaze drops to the tile floor. “Oh. Yeah. I mean, last night was good, but that…”
“That?” I prompt, though I know I shouldn’t.
I’m not here to flirt with her, I’m here to pretend to be in love with her.
But the lines are already starti
ng to blur. We haven’t even said our fake “I do’s” yet and I’m making stupid decisions. I should get out of here. Now. Before it’s too late. Before I need a lawyer to untangle me from this woman I know I can’t trust.
I’m working up the guts to do it when she lifts her eyes to meet mine and whispers, “Incredible,” and lines no longer seem so important.
We’ll figure out the lines as we go along. And if I need a lawyer, well, maybe a bought lesson will finally teach me not to date—or fake marry—redheads.
Redheads are trouble, I know this, but I’m smiling as I offer this one my hand. “Ready to fake it until we make it?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She slips her slender palm into mine and I lead the way to the licensing department, unable to ignore how right it feels to have my enemy’s hand in mine.
Chapter Eleven
Aria
Thinking is bad.
Dangerous.
Trouble.
I have to stop thinking or I’m not going to make it through the rest of this crazy day without losing my mind.
I refuse to think about the kiss in the courthouse lobby, or the kiss after the wedding ceremony, or the way Nash picked me up and spun me around until I was laughing like a giddy teenager, right in front of the Justice of the Peace and the other couples waiting to get married.
I won’t think about the way he makes me feel, like I’m waking up from a long, sad sleep, or question the wisdom of how much I want to kiss him again. And I’m certainly not going to take a closer look at how desperate I am to drag him into a bedroom, slam the door, and ravish him until we’re both aching with gratification and too exhausted to blink.
Lucky for me, we’re almost to my parents’ house. I’m certain Mom and Dad’s reaction to my completely-out-of-the-blue marriage will banish every last sparkle of lust from my bloodstream.
I tap my fingertips on the armrest of Nash’s truck, my rhythm growing progressively urgent as we pull onto the street where I grew up.
“Nervous again?” he asks.
“Terrified is a better word.” I let out a ragged sigh. “I’m pretty sure my mother is going to kill me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Mom loves weddings. Like really loves them.” I jog my knee up and down as the house comes into view. “She nearly had a heart attack when I told her I’d eloped the first time. Now that I’ve done it again…” My heart jumps into my throat and lodges there, making it hard to breathe.
And what if she knew that both of your weddings were dirty, rotten lies, Aria? What then? the inner voice demands.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” I squeak as Nash parks the truck at the curb. “What if she never speaks to me again?”
“Come on, now. It won’t be that bad.” His hand settles on my knee, sending another insidious sizzle of awareness flowing through me.
I can tell he’s trying to offer comfort, but his touch is so far from comforting, it isn’t even funny. His warm hand on my bare skin only makes my anxiety spike higher.
How am I going to do this?
How on earth am I going to get all touchy feely with Nash in public without letting the way he affects me bleed over into our relationship in private?
I’m not going to last a day at this rate. I’ll be begging him to touch me by bedtime, and well on my way to making a fool out of myself by tomorrow morning. And in the meantime, my mother will be devastated, Daddy will think I’m insane, and when it’s all over, the entire family will feel sorry for me.
Again.
The “Poor Aria” show will be renewed for another season, and the shame of being pitied by everyone I love will make the last vestiges of my pride curl up and die like a slug covered in salt.
I can’t do this.
This is a mistake, a terrible mistake.
“Breathe,” Nash says, his low, honeyed voice penetrating the panic haze. “You made a decision that’s in the best interest of your daughter. That’s what this is all about. And your parents are going to get that.”
I sip in a deeper breath, nodding.
He’s right. This is about Felicity. As long as I keep my focus on my daughter, everything is going to be all right.
“Now let’s go in there and convince your family we’re a happy, healthy couple who are going to provide your daughter with a wonderful home,” Nash says. “It might not be easy, but think about it this way: after today, fooling the rest of the town will be gravy.”
I glance his way, taking in his earnest expression and kind eyes, and something flutters behind my ribs. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was with someone who really cares about me. But I’ve seen Nash go from sweet to nasty before. I know better than to let his comforting drawl and encouraging words convince me to drop my guard again.
I know better, but that isn’t always enough to keep my stupid heart in line.
Your heart has nothing to do with it. Keep your heart closed up tight and your legs closed tighter and do what you need to do to keep your child from being forced to grow up with a full-time parent like Liam. Woman up, lady. Your daughter needs you.
I sit up straighter. “All right, let’s do this.” I reach for the door handle. “We’ll be so damned sweet together we’ll give the entire family a toothache before we’re done.”
“That’s my girl,” Nash says, grinning as he slams out of the driver’s side and jogs around to open my door.
The words send another fluttery feeling whispering through my chest, but I ignore it.
I’m not his girl, I’m my own woman, and Felicity’s mother, and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to defend my little family, even if it means lying like a dog to the rest of the people I love.
As is so often the case with the things we dread, the afternoon progresses with far less disaster than I’m anticipating.
After the initial moment of stunned shock in the wake of our big announcement—followed by tentative congratulations from Lark and Mason, giddy squeals of excitement from Melody, happy-ish tears from my mother, and a tight-lipped handshake for Nash from Dad—the afternoon is relatively…pleasant.
Either Nash and I are excellent actors, or my family is simply so eager for their black sheep to find her happily ever after that they’re willing to swallow any story, no matter how ludicrous.
Though, I have to admit Nash and I are pretty convincing. When he confesses that he secretly had feelings for me all along, even when we were in the deepest, darkest days of our feud, he sounds so sincere, even I almost believe him.
By the time we finish grilling chicken for a late lunch, Mom is letting Nash help her set the table and complimenting him on making Captain so early in his career, Lark is giving me the thumbs-up sign behind Nash’s back, and Mason has clapped Nash on the shoulder so often the man’s probably going to have bruises. He’s that excited to have Nash as a future brother-in-law.
And Felicity…
Well, Felicity made it clear how she felt about Nash the moment we walked in the door, taking to him with the same warmth and immediacy she did the first time. The only person who continues to look less-than-thrilled about our sudden marriage is my father.
So, I’m not really surprised when, after we’ve finished with lunch, Daddy appears in the door to my bedroom as I’m packing a few last-minute things to take to Nash’s house
“Hey.” I smile what I hope is a blissed-out-bride sort of smile. “What’s up, Daddy? Is it okay if I take the gray sheet set? Mom said it was fine, but—”
“It’s okay if you don’t do this,” he says, getting right down to business, the way he always does. “You don’t have to marry that boy to keep Felicity with you. We can find another way.”
“He’s not a boy. He’s a man and he’s my husband.” I turn my attention back to the baby bag, shoving the last blanket into the top. I don’t like lying to my father, but I like breaking promises even less. I promised Nash I’d keep our deal between us, and that’s what I intend to do. Even when it h
urts a little. “I know you didn’t care for Nash when we were kids, but we’re adults now.”
“I don’t like or dislike him. I don’t know the man, and neither do you,” Dad says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t have rushed into marriage if you didn’t need to move out of this house, and you know it. And I know it. And…I know it’s my fault.”
I face him, pained by the defeated slump of his shoulders. “Daddy, that’s not true. It’s not your fault.”
“It is my fault. If I hadn’t pulled that stupid stunt, you and Felicity would still be safe here.” He studies the hands fisted in his lap for a moment before lifting his head. “But I’m trying to fix things, Aria. I hired a private investigator to follow Liam and see what kind of dirt he can dig up.”
“Oh, Dad, no.” I wince. I caused enough trouble snooping in Mason’s past a few months ago.
But clearly, I come by my suspicious streak honestly.
“He’s a rat, honey, and rats leave rat trails behind,” Dad insists. “We just need to find them. Once we have evidence that he’s bad for Felicity, everything will be fine. You can stay here, we’ll get this marriage annulled, and—”
“No, Dad,” I say, a little surprised to find that I don’t want to stay. I’m ready to start the next phase of my life.
No matter how generous and helpful Mom and Dad have been, I’m past ready to move out. Grown children aren’t meant to live with their parents. It’s unnatural and has a way of stirring up every adolescent hang-up I thought I’d left behind. Even living with Nash for a few months and dealing with all the insanity that’s bound to cause is more appealing. And by the time Nash and I go our separate ways, I’ll be able to afford an apartment of my own.
“I’m moving in with Nash,” I repeat, gently, but firmly. “And Felicity is coming with me, and Nash and I are going to do our best to make our marriage work.”