by Lauren Layne
“How last-minute?” Clarke interrupted, looking at the wedding planner.
Alexis pursed her lips. “Well, that’s the catch. Things would have to happen soon.”
“How soon?”
“The last Saturday in March. The twenty-eighth.”
“March?” Audrey squeaked. She couldn’t fathom a fake wedding at the Plaza happening in under two months, much less a real one. Not that that was her problem.
“Is that even doable?” Clarke asked Alexis, still not looking at Audrey.
“Anything is doable,” Alexis said. “Like I told you at our consultation, there are always sacrifices that have to be made with shorter timelines, and that’s not even mentioning the increased costs. But Audrey’s reputation is more valuable to a lot of vendors than the money. Though it would be expensive,” she clarified with a smile.
“Sure,” Clarke said distractedly.
“I know this is a lot to think about,” Alexis said, looking back at Audrey. “I can put a twenty-four-hour hold on it, but after that—”
“Put the hold on it,” Clarke said.
Audrey’s eyes went wide. “What?”
How had they gone from agreeing to call this whole thing off to pretending they were going to book the Plaza?
“Actually, we don’t need twenty-four hours to decide,” he told Alexis. “We just need one hour.”
“Clarke.” If he were closer, she’d kick him.
He met her eyes, and Audrey was alarmed that she couldn’t read him—didn’t have a clue what he was thinking or what the hell he was doing.
Clarke took a deep breath. “Dree. Can we talk?”
* * *
The wide-eyed, appalled look Audrey was sporting as she sat across from him in the Plaza’s champagne bar wasn’t the strong start he’d been hoping for. Neither were the first words out of her mouth.
“Clarke, if you want to keep the charade going for a bit longer, I’m game, but I draw the line at taking this spot at the Plaza. Even if the deposit is refundable, which I doubt it is, I am not taking that spot away from someone who will actually use it. Saturdays in the wedding world are precious currency.”
“I know.” He picked up the cocktail menu and scanned the expansive sparkling wine options. “Moët or Veuve?”
“I don’t care,” she said distractedly. “If you keep acting crazy, the only sparkling beverage I’m letting you drink is water.”
He merely smiled as he flagged down a server and ordered them two glasses of the most expensive champagne on the menu. It seemed to fit the occasion. What he was about to suggest was nuts, and yet it also felt exactly right.
Clarke waited until the server moved away, then met Audrey’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“For being a weirdo?”
“For Elizabeth. For not telling you about her.”
She waved her hand. “We already went through that. Water under the bridge. It’s fine. I told you, you don’t have to share every detail—”
“No, I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what happened with me and Elizabeth before. Years ago.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Oh. Why?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately.” He waited until the server had placed the champagne in front of them and moved away. He took a sip, barely tasted it.
“And?” Audrey nudged.
He lifted his gaze. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Know what?”
“What Liz thought of me.”
“She wants you back,” Audrey said softy. “I’d say she thinks pretty highly of you.”
“Not what she thinks now. What she thought of me back then.” He continued to watch his friend. “I’m not marriage minded. You know that. I know that. But the truth is, I didn’t really know that until she told me I wasn’t.”
“Elizabeth told you you didn’t want to get married?” Audrey asked skeptically.
“Not exactly. She told me I wasn’t marriage material.”
Her eyes bugged a little in outraged surprised, and she scowled. “That horrible—”
“No,” he said, holding up a hand. “She was right. But the real kicker is, I was actually trying. When she and I were dating, for the first time in my life, I was trying to be different. Better. You know how I was as a teen. And in college. I was a classic playboy who thought the world couldn’t hurt me, and I didn’t care who I hurt.”
“You never hurt me.”
Which is sort of my point.
“I was a nightmare of a kid, but right around the time I met Liz, I got the job at York and decided if I was going to be a grown-up in my professional life, I should be one in my personal life as well. So I dated exactly the sort of woman my mother wanted me to find. I bought the flowers. I didn’t so much as look at another woman. I learned to cook.”
“You did?” She looked fascinated, as though she didn’t even know him.
“I didn’t say I learned to cook well. But I did every damned husbandly thing I could think of.”
“And she threw it back in your face,” Audrey said quietly.
“Worse,” Clarke said with a wry smile. “She didn’t even notice any of my efforts. She got that job offer in DC, and selfishly, I wasn’t thrilled. I didn’t want to leave New York. But I was thinking, ‘Okay, this is what committed people do. We’ll figure it out.’ Only she didn’t want to figure it out. Not with me. That burned the most. I don’t even think she considered it. It seemed to be a non-option in her mind.”
He took a gulp of the champagne, annoyed that though the memory had dulled over time, it still hurt his ego. At least now he could admit that it was ego, and not something far more damaging.
He hadn’t wanted to marry Elizabeth. Then or now. But it had been a valuable lesson in how women saw him—the same way his parents saw him. He was the fun guy, the unpredictable party boy. The one you brought home to your parents as arm candy because of his name and bank account, not because your dad would be impressed by his moral fiber. Even the women who’d made noise about coaxing him down the altar had been far more interested in the challenge, the inheritance, and the last name West.
“Liz told me I wasn’t marriage material, and she was right.”
“She was wrong,” Audrey protested. “Just because she couldn’t see your value doesn’t mean someone else won’t.” She reached a hand across the table.
Clarke took a breath and placed his hand over hers, feeling the diamond of her engagement ring dig lightly into his palm. The fact that she’d decided to put it back on for one last day gave him the courage he needed.
Here goes nothing. “Someone already has.”
Audrey blinked and tried to wriggle her hand away, but he pressed more firmly. “You’ve met someone?” she asked, sounding both thrilled and surprised.
“I’ve known her awhile, actually.”
This time she was successful in jerking her hand away, dropping both hands into her lap, out of reach. “Well, that’s great. Oh my gosh, you should have told me. I put your ring back on for God’s sake. I just wanted one last hurrah, and—never mind, none of that’s important. Clarke.” She leaned forward, eyes wide. “Are you thinking of marrying this woman? Is that why you told Alexis to reserve the Plaza? Oh my God, can I be your best woman? You have to say yes!”
Huh. This was not how he envisioned this going.
Clarke tried again, starting over. “I said that Liz was right when she said I wasn’t marriage material, but only partially right. I’ll never fit into her mold of marriage. Or society’s mold of marriage. I don’t know how to dote—I’ve never met anyone I want to dote on. Even if I did, to your point about divorce rates, I don’t have faith that I, or any of us, really, can count on love to last.”
“Or that the guy you’re in love with isn’t also in love with his wife,” she said glumly.
Clarke was pretty damn sure Brayden Hayes had only ever been in love with himself, though he didn’t point this out to her. Deep down, she probabl
y already knew.
Audrey was frowning at him. “Okay, so you don’t believe in love, and you don’t think you’re marriage material. So help me understand… Why are you letting Alexis think you’re going to book the last Saturday in March at the Plaza?”
“I said I wasn’t marriage material for that kind of marriage.”
“The regular kind?” she asked.
His head dropped forward with a laugh. “You are really not making this easy.”
“You’re not being particularly clear,” she countered.
Fine. She wanted clear? He’d give it to her:
“I think we should get married.”
He braced himself, half expecting the sky to fall or the ground to split open or Audrey to bust up laughing. But strangely, the moment the words were out there, he knew it was the greatest idea he’d ever had, the best thing he’d ever said.
Audrey said nothing, so he pushed forward.
“You’ve said yourself that Brayden ruined the idea of marriage for you, and I’ve never particularly wanted it myself. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get married our way.”
“Which is…?”
His heart pounded harder. She wasn’t saying no.
He forged ahead, desperate to convince her. “We enjoy each other’s company. We don’t get on each other’s nerves. We understand each other. We look out for each other. We care about each other. Not to mention, neither of us would have to deal with friends pushing us into blind dates or parents setting us up with family friends, and Scandal Boy would be completely thrown off his game.”
Audrey laughed. “I’m not going to get married because some Internet troll has it out for me.”
“Why not? You got engaged for that reason.”
“That’s different. Temporary.”
She was right. It was very different. But he wasn’t ready to back down. If she said no, fine. It’s not like he’d walk away with a broken heart, which was kind of the point. With Audrey, there’d never be a risk of that.
Except… there was.
With the old Audrey/Clarke dynamic, their hearts had never been on the line, but now? Now he’d never wanted anything as badly as he wanted this.
“We’re social people, Dree. We may have sworn off fairy-tale romance, but we’re not meant to be alone, either. Tell me it wouldn’t be fun to have someone to eat with every night. To have a built-in date to all these damned events we get invited to. To have a partner in life.”
“We can be all of that without being married. We’re already halfway there.”
Clarke’s heart sank slightly at the skepticism in her tone, but he smiled. “You know you can just say no, right? You don’t have to spare my feelings.”
Please don’t say no.
“I’m thinking,” she said, sipping her champagne. “I’m trying to figure out why it’s somehow the craziest idea I’ve ever heard in my life, and yet it doesn’t feel that crazy.”
His heart lifted once again. “And… wedding at the Plaza?”
“What happens if one of us meets someone?” she asked. “I mean, I know we both think we’re not cut out for that sort of thing, but we can’t predict the future.”
“Then we’ll deal with it when that happens. We’d also probably win some award for being the most amicably divorced couple on the planet if it does.”
“What about…” She hesitated. “The physical part? Would it be an open relationship? Because I know you, and you may talk a good game about someone to have dinner with, but you also want someone to… you know with.”
An image of Audrey naked beneath him, her dark hair spread out on his pillow caused an immediate tightening of his entire body, and he nearly groaned as he faced the fact he’d been avoiding for weeks.
He wanted her. He wanted his best friend in ways that had nothing to do with friendship.
To deflect and distract, he teased her. “You can’t say the word sex? You’re twenty-nine.”
“I can say it,” she said with a stubborn pout.
He grinned. “Say it.”
“I’ll say it when you tell me where you’ll be getting it in this little scenario of yours.”
“Touché,” he said. “Fine, I guess I hadn’t really thought about that, but yes, we’d just… discreetly take care of business.”
“Now who can’t say the word sex?” she said smugly.
“We’d figure it out,” Clarke said, realizing that he hadn’t quite figured out the whole physical part of their arrangement, either, but not wanting it to deter the plan. “We always figure everything out together. You can’t tell me that’s not a solid foundation for a marriage. On top of an already rock-solid friendship.”
“But you’re not in love with me,” she pointed out.
He hesitated. “And you’re not in love with me.”
They held each other’s gazes for a long time, and she finally looked away with a breath of disbelief. “You’re seriously suggesting this? Getting married?”
“Why not?”
She gave a startled laugh. “Because it’s crazy. It’s beyond crazy.”
“Which has always been our favorite way to do things. I could get down on one knee if it would help?”
He started to move out of his chair, but Audrey held up a hand. “Don’t you dare.”
Clarke froze, then hopped off his chair as Audrey came around the table and flung her arms around his neck. “Let’s do it. Let’s get freaking married.”
He laughed along with her, more certain than ever that the craziest idea of his life was also his best one.
Chapter Eighteen
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 25
I’m sorry, but are we in The Matrix?” Naomi asked. “What is going on here?”
Claire looked as stunned as Naomi, though true to form, she was quieter about it, merely staring across the table at Audrey after she’d dropped her bombshell.
Claire finally found her voice. “You’re getting married. At the Plaza. In a month?”
“To Clarke?” Naomi added, for good measure.
“Yup,” Audrey said, taking a sip of her iced tea.
“Isn’t that taking things a bit… far?”
“If we were just doing it for the reasons we got engaged—to thwart his mother, to get back at Elizabeth, to tell Scandal Boy and all of social media to suck it—then yes. That would be going a bit far,” she said with a smile.
“So if not that, then why?”
“Oh my God,” Naomi said, reaching across the table and giving Audrey’s arm an excited squeeze. “You finally figured it out.”
Audrey frowned. “Figured what out?”
Naomi opened her mouth, then jolted and glared at Claire. Audrey looked between Naomi and Claire, then narrowed her eyes at the latter. “Did you just kick Naomi under the table?”
“Certainly not,” Claire said smoothly, reaching for a roll from the bread basket. “But, seriously, do tell us what’s going on.”
As if I know.
One moment Audrey had been trying to figure out how to tell Alexis Morgan that they wouldn’t be needing her services after all, and the next she’d been watching Clarke hand over his credit card to reserve March 28 for his wedding date.
Their wedding date.
She was marrying Clarke.
It had been nearly a week since she’d agreed to his spontaneous suggestion, and she’d deliberately not told anyone, thinking—assuming—that she’d come to her senses, that she’d wake up one morning and realize how ridiculous it was, that she’d call him and they’d laugh at the insanity of it.
Instead, every day, things felt a little clearer.
She could see it. And not just the wedding, though that would be spectacular.
But she could see the marriage. She could see them having coffee together every morning. Planning the day ahead, giving each other pep talks when necessary, sharing a cocktail at the end of the day, arguing over what kind of takeout to order.
Claire and Naomi were waiting imp
atiently for an explanation, but all she could do was smile and say, “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Is it a marriage of convenience,” Claire asked around a bite of bread, “or a marriage of…”
“Lust?” Naomi supplied hopefully.
“Definitely not the latter,” Audrey said.
“Well, then what’s the point!” Naomi said, throwing up her hands. “Why would someone get married if not for constant access to sexy times. Claire, tell her.”
“It’s a definite perk,” Claire said slowly. “But you don’t have to be married to have regular sex.”
“Well, that’s true,” Naomi admitted. “I suppose I know that firsthand. But are you and Clarke doing the nasty?”
“No,” Audrey said emphatically.
“So, you’re, what, saving yourself for the wedding night?” Naomi asked skeptically.
“It’s not that kind of marriage,” Audrey explained quickly.
“What sort of marriage is it?”
“Well. I guess Claire’s description of a ‘marriage of convenience’ is as apt as any,” Audrey said, “though it’s not so cold as that. But you always hear that the best marriages are the ones based on friendship, right? Everyone imagines that when they get married, it’ll be to their best friend. And I realized, the only way I was going to get that marriage is if I marry Clarke.”
“Friendship is an important element,” Claire agreed carefully. “But it’s not the only element.”
“Right. Sex,” Naomi said again.
“Would you stop with that!” Audrey said, unable to keep the exasperation out of her tone as she turned to her friend. “I hear what you’re saying. I do. I know that Clarke and I aren’t going about this the normal way. But we’re not looking for the normal kind of marriage. We’re not looking for what you and Scott have,” she said, looking at Claire, “or what you and Oliver have.”
“But—”
“No,” Audrey said firmly. “I’m allowed to do things differently than you two. You are doing it differently from each other! Naomi, you’ve been living with Oliver since before Claire even met Scott, and Scott and Claire are married. So why can’t I choose my own path? I love Clarke every bit as much as you two love Oliver and Scott. It’s just different.”