Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series

by Lilian Monroe

  “You sure have,” Shannon replies, smiling at me.

  I steal a glance at Jesse, whose eyes are flashing with mischief. He’s grinning in a way that makes my chest fill with warmth. My palm burns, and it’s not from the splinter. I can still feel his touch on my skin. I look away, leaning into Elijah and clearing my throat.

  Elijah puts his arm around the back of my chair and squeezes my shoulder. He nods to his father.

  “I sure have,” he says. “She’s a keeper. Now if only Jesse could find a woman half as good, he’d be twice as lucky.”

  Jesse shakes his head. “We’re not talking about my love life. Not now. Not at dinner.”

  “Why not?” I can’t stop myself. I want him to look at me with those dark grey eyes again.

  When he turns them to me, my heart does a flip.

  “I don’t think you could handle that kind of drama,” Jesse grins.

  “You might be surprised,” I answer. Why am I still talking? Is it obvious that we’re flirting right now?

  Fuck. I mean, obviously it’s obvious. I need to shut my mouth! What is wrong with me?

  Thankfully, Maria arrives with a couple plates full of steaming roast beef and mashed potatoes, and the six of us move on to other subjects.

  I keep my eyes on my own plate for most of the dinner, except for one moment, right before dessert. It feels like someone is staring at me, and I look up to see Jesse eyeing me. He holds my gaze for a few moments until my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. His eyes flick down to my lips and a sizzle of electricity zips through my body.

  Finally, I tear my gaze away and put my hand on Elijah’s thigh. He puts his hand over mine, and I ignore the heat curling in my stomach.

  This is so wrong.

  4

  Jesse

  What’s that part in the bible about coveting your neighbor’s wife? How about coveting your brother’s wife? Does that make it an extra-deadly sin?

  If it is, I’m definitely going to hell.

  It takes all my self-control to not stare at Farrah all dinner long. It’s a good thing I’m only at the cabin for two nights, because I don’t think I’d be able to resist talking to her. Or staring at her perfect body and beautiful face. Or trying to make her laugh.

  I watch Elijah push his chair away from the dinner table while Farrah is asking him something. He walks off without answering, and I see her face fall. She takes a deep breath and turns to my mother.

  “Thank you so much for dinner, it was delicious.”

  “You’re welcome, Farrah,” my mom says benevolently, even though she didn’t lift a finger to cook it. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. That never goes over well.

  Elijah stalks out of the room without a word, and my eyes flick back to Farrah.

  I know that look.

  It’s the same look that all Elijah’s girlfriends get after a while. Thinly veiled loneliness and sadness clouded with confusion. When the glamour of dating an NFL-star wears off, and they see what a fucking asshole he really is.

  I probably shouldn’t say that about my brother, but it’s true.

  I kiss my mother’s cheek and bring my plate to the kitchen. Maria is busy wrapping up the leftovers. I put my plate in the dishwasher and she waves me away.

  “Jesse, please,” she says. “Let me do my job. What would your mother say if she saw you in here?”

  “She’d probably ask who my real mother was, because it couldn’t possibly be her.”

  “Jesse!”

  I laugh, putting an arm around Maria. “Come on, Maria. Let me help you.”

  The old woman huffs, and finally hands me a dish towel. “You can dry those pots and pans.”

  I grin and squeeze my arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss on her temple. Growing up, Maria was a maid, a cook, and a surrogate mother to me and Elijah. Mom and Dad were always away on business, or busy in society, or doing whatever it is that they do. Maria was the one who really took care of us.

  I take the dish towel from Maria and head for the sink. She’s already done almost half the dishes, so I take them one by one and start drying.

  “So how has it been up here with the two of them?” My parents are good people, but they can be demanding, especially since my father’s back has been acting up.

  “They’ve been fine,” Maria says, spooning some mashed potatoes into a Tupperware container. “Your mother has been busy visiting the neighbors and your father is working on his book, so I don’t have much to do.”

  “Except run the whole house and make gourmet meals all day, every day,” I grin.

  “Yes, except for that,” Maria laughs. She snaps the container shut and opens the refrigerator, shuffling a few things to fit the potatoes in.

  Someone clears their throat behind us. I turn to see Farrah with a couple plates in her hand. She’s glancing around, lifting the plates up.

  “I saw you bring your plate in, thought I’d grab mine and Elijah’s. You guys have a dishwasher?”

  Maria jumps up and shuffles over to her. “I’ll grab those, Farrah, don’t worry about it.”

  “Can I help with anything?”

  “Of course not,” Maria says, placing the plates on the counter and opening the dishwasher. “Would you like a drink? I can bring it to the living room for you.”

  “Are you sure you’re my brother’s fiancée? I’ve never seen him help with anything,” I laugh. I pull out another dish towel and throw it to Farrah. She catches it with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well, Elijah and I are actually two distinct people, with two distinct brains,” she says. “And I like to help.”

  Maria glances at me with a raised eyebrow. She’s got her hands on her hips and the look in her eye says ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  I ignore her. She huffs and heads back to the dining room to collect more dishes.

  Farrah looks at me. “Does Elijah really not help with anything?”

  “What, does he help you at home?”

  She chews her lip and says nothing.

  “Exactly.”

  “He’s great, though. I mean, I can deal with a couple extra dishes and a bit of laundry. He does lots of things for me. We don’t even eat at home that much. Or, he doesn’t eat at home that much.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or are you trying to convince yourself?” I crouch down to the corner cupboard and put the big roasting pan away. I look up to Farrah and watch as her cheeks redden some more. She hands me the roasting pan lid. When I try to grab it, she keeps a hold on it.

  “I want to marry him,” she says, staring me straight in the eye. “I love your brother.”

  The fire in her eyes makes me pause. Her words sting, but I try not to let it show. I nod, and she releases the roasting pan lid. Maria reappears and starts putting plates in the dishwasher, and we finish drying the pots and pans in silence. Farrah folds the tea towel and puts it on the counter.

  “Thank you for dinner, Maria. It was delicious.”

  Maria smiles and my heart warms. Usually, people just ignore Maria. “No problem, Farrah. Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, I’m fine. The bedrooms are just down the hall and up the stairs?”

  Maria nods and Farrah disappears. I watch the door swing shut and let out a sigh. Maria looks at me through slitted eyes, and makes a tsk-tsk-tsk sound.

  “What!”

  “Be careful, Jesse.”

  “Careful of what?!”

  “That is your brother’s fiancée.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I know that look on your face.”

  “She’s too good for him.” I don’t know why I say that, or how I know it after having met Farrah a couple hours ago. I just have a feeling in my chest about her. Farrah is different. Elijah doesn’t deserve her.

  Maria is quiet for a while. She shuts the dishwasher and leans against the counter. Then, she sighs and turns to me.

  “Yes, she probably is. But she’l
l have to learn that on her own. Don’t you go meddling in other people’s affairs.”

  “I’m not meddling.”

  “Jesse,” she says in that voice she used to use when I was in trouble.

  I grin, and mimic her voice. “Maria.”

  She turns toward me and yanks the towel out of my hands. “You stay out of trouble,” she says, pointing a finger at me. The tea towel bounces up and down in her hand as she points. “You hear me?”

  “Always.”

  “I’m serious, Jesse.”

  “So am I!”

  She just sighs and rolls her eyes. “Alright. Out!” She shoos me away. “Out of my kitchen.”

  I grin, and give Maria another hug. “Thank you for dinner.”

  She mumbles something and I grin before turning around and walking out.

  Maybe Maria is right. Maybe this is just plain old sibling rivalry, and I should stay out of my brother’s engagement.

  Whether he deserves her or not is none of my business. She doesn’t need to be saved from him, and she’s definitely not mine to save.

  But when I walk out of the kitchen, I wander down the hall and I think I can smell her perfume lingering. I glance at the stairs, and then shake my head.

  None of my business.

  5

  Farrah

  My heart is still thumping when I get to our bedroom. Elijah is in the shower, and I flop down onto the huge, king-sized bed. I sink into the soft bedding and stare at the ceiling. Mr. Moose lifts his head to look at me from the dog bed I brought from home, and then lays back down.

  It’s okay to have attractions, right? I mean, everyone looks at other people. Crushes are fine, as long as you don’t act on them. Everyone in a long-term relationship has had a crush. It’s normal.

  And that’s all this is. Jesse is gorgeous, and strong, and sexy. The first time I saw him, he was nearly naked!

  So no wonder I’d be a little bit nervous around him.

  It doesn’t help that Elijah and I haven’t been intimate in a long time—how long has it been? A week? I frown as I think back to the last time I had sex with my fiancé. It was almost three weeks ago. My heart drops as I turn toward the shower. We used to have sex every single day!

  I didn’t think it had been that long, but the last time we slept together was definitely the night after they won against the Jets. I remember it, because it was the first time Elijah had touched me since Thanksgiving.

  God, is this going to be my life from now on? Counting on one hand the number of times I have sex with my husband in a month?

  I grab my phone and dial my best friend, Rachael. She picks up on the second ring.

  “So, how’s the family getaway?” I can hear the grin in her voice. “Is it as bad as you thought?”

  “It’s worse,” I laugh, and she giggles. I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”

  “Come on,” Rachael teases. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I glance toward the ensuite bathroom, and I can hear Elijah singing to himself. I turn away from the door and start talking under my breath.

  “I met Elijah’s brother.”

  “Yes, and?? Is he an asshole?”

  “No!” I say, a bit too loud. I glance at the bathroom door and sigh. “He’s really nice.”

  “You’re into him, aren’t you?” Rachael laughs. “Oh my goodness! Scandalous.”

  “No! I mean, he’s attractive, don’t get me wrong. I don’t know. Elijah’s just been so distant, and—”

  Just as I say that, Elijah’s phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me. I glance over and see a name pop up: Carmen. She’s sent a photo message. My heart starts thumping, and I glance at the bathroom again. He’s still singing to himself in the shower.

  “And what?” Rach prompts. I can’t remember what I was saying to her.

  “Rach, Elijah just got a photo message from Carmen.”

  “That cheerleader bitch?”

  “Don’t call her a bitch,” I sigh. “I don’t actually know her at all.”

  “Except for the fact that she’s all over your fucking fiancé even when you’re around.”

  “Yeah, except for that. She sent a photo message.”

  Rach is silent for a second. “Where’s Elijah?”

  “He’s in the shower,” I whisper, glancing at the door for the millionth time.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Look at the picture!”

  “I can’t go through his phone!”

  “Oh come on, Farrah,” Rachael says. “You’re telling me that your rich, attractive, NFL-quarterback fiancé just got a freaking picture message at ten o’clock at night from some slutty cheerleader and you’re not at least a little bit curious about what it is?”

  “It’s an invasion of privacy,” I say, picking up his phone. I turn the screen on again and my heart sinks when I see her name on the screen. What picture did she send?

  “Farrah, you know how I feel about Elijah. I have my reservations,” she says slowly. “But I know that you care about him. What is your heart telling you? Do you think it’s an innocent picture?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I feel like a deflated balloon. The shower is still on, and Elijah is still singing to himself. I probably only have a minute or two.

  “Fine, I say, swiping on the screen to open the messaging app. The phone asks me for his passcode, and I tap the numbers on the screen.

  The numbers shake. Incorrect passcode. Try again.

  My jaw drops, and I press the numbers again. I know this is his code. He’s had the same one ever since we started dating! He’s asked me to check things on his phone dozens of times!

  The numbers shake again. Try again.

  “Rach, he changed his passcode.”

  “What?!”

  Tears gather in my eyes. The shower stops, and I put his phone back down on the nightstand. I jump up, turning to the window. My little French bulldog comes and rubs up against my legs. He can tell something is wrong.

  “What do I do? Fuck, fuck, fuck!” My breath is short and I can’t think straight. Is my fiancé cheating on me? Why would a cheerleader be texting him late at night with a picture? What if it’s a naked picture! What if they’ve already slept together! What if all those ‘team dinners’ have actually been dates with other women!

  “Farrah, come on, Farrah,” Rach’s calming voice comes over the phone. “You’re not even saying anything but I can feel you freaking out. Calm down. There will be an explanation. Just ask him about it. Say it lit up when you were near his phone, and you’re curious. Just be chill about it, and he’ll be open. I’m sure it’s all innocent. It’s fine.”

  “Okay. Okay, thanks. I gotta go.”

  “Text me later, okay?”

  “Thanks, Rach.” I hang up just as Elijah appears from the steamy bathroom. He looks at me with an eyebrow raised. I lift my phone up. “Rachael.”

  “Ah,” he says, and then walks around the bed toward his phone. He picks it up and turns his back to me, tapping the phone quickly. I walk closer to him, but he just locks the phone and puts it down, brushing past me. I glance at the blank phone screen and then at my fiancé.

  I have a horrible, sinking feeling in my stomach.

  Something is wrong.

  I know it is. I can feel it.

  There are too many things that have been adding up. The sex—or lack thereof—the distance between us, his rudeness toward me lately, this chick Carmen hanging all over him and now texting him… it’s just adding up to something that I’m not ready to face.

  I swallow back the tears and take a deep breath.

  “Hey babe,” I start as my heart hammers in my chest.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “I was just sitting on the bed talking to Rachael just now, and your phone lit up with a photo message.”

  Elijah freezes.

  “Uh-huh,” he says slowly. I can hear the tension in his voice. The muscles in his neck ripple and his jaw twitches.

  �
��It was from that girl Carmen—the cheerleader. What… what was she sending you?”

  “What, you don’t trust me or something?” He says in a low voice, taking a step in my direction. His eyes are dark, almost black, and his face is cloudy. I gulp.

  “I just… it just seemed weird that a girl would be texting you at like, almost eleven pm right before Christmas.”

  “After all we’ve been through, you don’t trust me?” He spits.

  “What do you mean, all we’ve been through?”

  “I’m not cheating on you!”

  “I never said you were.” I hate how shaky my voice is. “Just, what… what did she send you?”

  “It was a team photo,” he almost yells. “A fucking team photo that she took at the last game.”

  My jaw drops open. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” he says, sinking down on the bed. “Now who’s the asshole?”

  “I never said you were an asshole, babe. I’m sure if I was getting pictures from attractive men in the middle of the night, you’d think it was weird too.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How is that different?!” My back stiffens. He seems to think flirting with all the women hanging off him is all normal and fine, but if a guy so much as looks at me, he’s freaking out.

  He stares at me and then waves his hand in front of his face. “I can’t deal with this shit.”

  “You can’t deal with this shit? What is that supposed to mean?”

  His nostrils flare and I cross my arms. I can feel the anger curling around my heart.

  “I want to see the picture.”

  “What?” His eyes flash.

  “The picture she sent you. I want to see it.” I’m trembling. My hands are shaking so hard I have to ball them into fists. The words just tumble out of me and I can see the anger building in Elijah’s face. His neck and chest are turning red.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” He roars. “I bring you here, to be with my parents! With my family! And this is the bullshit you come up with?”

  Mr. Moose starts yelping at Elijah. He runs up through his legs and barks at him. Elijah looks like he’s about to explode.