by Kelsie Rae
We’ve had this conversation before, but it doesn’t stop my reaction. I almost flinch at her assessment because that’s almost exactly what I did. I went to the salesman and asked which ring is most often drooled over by women in their twenties. I know that I need to stop assuming Skye’s like every other girl I’ve dated. But she has no idea how hard that is when it’s all I’ve ever known.
My face heats in embarrassment as I remember Brody insisting we stop at a gas station the same night to pick up a special present for Skye. “Like the bubblegum?” I offer.
Resting her dainty little hand that’s engulfed by a giant rock against my forearm, she gives me a soft squeeze. “Exactly like the bubblegum. I think this ring is gorgeous, Liam, and I appreciate the effort you put into finding it for me. It’s just…not me. And ever since I agreed to this plan, I haven’t felt like me at all. It’s kind of starting to freak me out.”
There’s something about the vulnerable girl next to me that makes my hands fist in my lap. After everything she’s sacrificed for me, I feel guilty as hell. I want to help her. To smooth the worry wrinkles across her forehead. To do something that will ease the ache in my chest.
“What do you want, Skye?”
She shrugs, staring out the side window as the driver turns a corner. “I don’t know. Something real? But that won’t be happening until after the transfer goes through with your bank, right?”
Gripping the back of my neck, I admit, “Probably not. We have to pretend for a little while longer, but at least it’ll be away from prying eyes.”
“Good point. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.”
“Yeah?” I nudge her shoulder. “That’s real.”
With a soft smile, she nods. “That’s definitely real and has been on my bucket list since I was a little girl. So, thank you.”
The knot in my chest loosens before turning into a damn boa constrictor when I realize how close we’re sitting. With her breast pressed against my shoulder, and her perfume faintly floating through the air, my eyes find her mouth on their own volition. It’s as if I don’t have control of the damn things because memories of her lips on mine from only a few minutes ago assault me. Sure, I’ve always thought Skye was hot, but when she walked down that aisle in that white dress with her hair and makeup making her look flawless, it almost felt real to me too. It almost feels real right now. If I could only lean a little closer, I’d be able to steal another taste. I’d be able to feel the silky strands of her hair tangle through my fingers. I could do so much with her. My hand twitches in my lap as her minty breath fans across my face.
With a slam of the brakes, both our necks snap forward along with the tension in the cab.
“Sorry about that, Mr. and Mrs. Davis,” the driver’s voice echoes through the speaker, but I don’t miss the foreign sensation that races through me when I register the word Mrs.
“Don’t worry about it, Simon,” I call back, still reeling from the realization that I have a Mrs. I have a wife.
Clearing her throat, Skye scoots a few inches away and fixes up her hair.
I blink a couple of times to confirm I’m not in the same hazy alternate universe I’d just transported from before muttering, “We’ll be on a plane before we know it. We’ll spend a couple weeks in the land of pasta and wine. Then we’ll sign the divorce papers as soon as we land. Things will go back to normal, and then you’ll be able to find your real Prince Charming that won’t care about pleasing his parents or spending as much money as possible out of spite. Deal?”
She doesn’t look at me as she whispers, “Deal.”
Chapter Seventeen
Skye
The flight from Manchester to Detroit goes by without a hitch, and before I know it, I’m on my way to Rome. Because Liam booked the flights, I’m not too surprised to find myself in first-class and wiggle my bum back and forth against the spacious seat.
“How you doin’ over there?” he asks with an amused expression.
“Doin’ good, my friend. Doin’ very good. No wonder you love flying internationally. With all this legroom, the eight-hour flight will be a walk in the park.” I stretch my legs out for good measure, making Liam laugh.
“Glad I can be of service.”
Placing his headphones into his ears, he starts sorting through a few of the movies offered on the flight while I do the same. My back pushes into the seat as we take off into the sky a few minutes later, and I smile when the rush of energy pulses through me. I still haven’t slept since the night before our wedding. We’d both agreed to get the hell out of New Hampshire as quickly as possible, but the adrenaline from our farce of a marriage, combined with the fact that I’m going to freaking Italy, seems to keep the need for sleep at bay. Besides, there’s just something about flying that gets to me. I never get sick of it. Unfortunately, my ears have other ideas. If they could groan, they definitely would from the pressure change in the cabin. It’s a good thing I brought my handy, dandy ear-popping trick.
Leaning forward, I dig into my carry-on bag tucked beneath the seat in front of me before grinning when I find what I’m looking for. I unwrap the pink square of bubblegum and toss it into my mouth, relieved when my ears pop thirty seconds later.
Hallelujah.
As I sigh in contentment, I feel a pair of dark green eyes on me and turn to the culprit.
“Yes?” I ask.
Liam shakes his head. “Are you really chewing bubblegum right now?”
With a grin, I blow a bubble instead of answering him. It gets to be about the size of my fist before Liam’s finger darts out and pops it way before it could grow to its full potential.
“Hey!”
He laughs. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
“That’s just cruel! Do you know how big that bubble could’ve been?! Respect the bubble, Liam. Respect. The bubble.”
“Oh, so, you’re a bubble blowing master, is that it?”
“Damn straight! You only wish you had my skills.”
“Challenge accepted, Nanny.” Holding out his open palm, he waits for me to give him some gum. And because I’m way too curious for my own good, I dig into my bag and retrieve another square before plopping it into his waiting hand.
After unwrapping the waxy wrapper, he holds the gum between his forefinger and thumb, examining it carefully. “Tell me something. Why are you too good for the sugar-free kind?”
“Because you can’t get the same sized bubble with sugar-free, newb. Besides, sometimes we need a little sweetness in our lives. Am I right?”
His eyes shift to me, holding me captive for a split second as he tosses the gum into his mouth.
“You might be on to something.”
I watch his strong jaw chew the piece for a few seconds before he drives his tongue through the ball of gum, manipulating it in his mouth until it’s prime bubble-blowing material. Then, his lips form a small ‘O,’ and he exhales all the pent-up air into a small bubble. I don’t even realize how little the damn thing is because I’m too distracted by the guy working his magic. That is until I see his knowing grin peek through the lusty haze clouding the first-class seats on my Delta flight.
“See?” he brags. “I still got it.”
I snort, shaking myself out of my little daydream. “You think that was impressive? Watch this.”
I roll the gum in my mouth before blowing another bubble that puts his to shame. After it pops softly, I brag, “See?”
Rolling his eyes, he pulls out his cell and rotates the camera until it’s facing both of us. Then, he stretches out his arms as much as he can without bumping the seat in front of us. “Alright, Fake Wife––”
“Fake Wife?” I interrupt, forgetting the screen that he’s aptly framed us in. “Is that a promotion from you calling me Nanny or a demotion? I can’t tell.”
“It’s a lateral move. Don’t let it go to your head.” He winks. “Now, like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, let’s try this again. Only this time, we�
�ll have documentation of both sizes and can compare them with an unbiased view.”
A gasp of mock outrage escapes me. “You dare to question my judgment?”
“Hell, yes, I do,” he teases.
With a huff, I cross my arms. “Fine. Since you’re so sure you’re all that and a bag of chips, let’s put a wager on it. Shall we?”
“Fine. What are the stakes?”
“I dunno. Being able to rub your nose in the fact that you had your ass handed to you sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
He laughs. “While I will enjoy dethroning the bubble-blowing master, let’s make it interesting, shall we? Loser has to use Spanish instead of Italian for the entire trip.”
My brows furrow in confusion. “Huh? I don’t speak either language. I mean, other than please and thank you––”
“Exactly.”
Slapping my palm to my forehead, my cheeks heat from the prospect. “You can’t be serious right now? I’d look like a complete idiot for the entire trip!”
He smirks but doesn’t bother to argue.
I weigh my options for about two seconds before remembering we’re playing my game. No one can blow bigger bubbles than me. I’ve spent hours wasting my time perfecting the art of bubble blowing. Hell, I’m the one who taught Brody how to do it in the first place, and I’m pretty sure that even he could take on the newb sitting next to me. Oozing confidence, I offer my hand to him.
“Deal.”
“Best two out of three?” he asks. “Or are you confident you can beat me in one go?”
“I’m feeling generous. Let’s go best two out of three.”
“Deal,” he agrees.
Chewing our gum, we prep it like champs before turning to Liam’s camera on his phone. When our gazes connect through the screen and we both nod, I raise my fingers, counting down.
Three.
Two.
One.
We blow.
And my bubble stretches to the size of a grapefruit while his barely compares to a baseball. I pop the bubble, then pull my gum back into my mouth with a triumphant grin and gloat, “One down. One to go.”
“Come on! That was a practice round!”
“No, it wasn’t!” I laugh at his pathetic excuse. “Don’t be a poor sport, Señior Loser. Ready to go again?”
His eyes twinkle with mirth before he rolls them and nods. “Fine. But this time, I get to count down. I wasn’t ready.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! You nodded that you were ready!”
“Yeah, but then you counted down, and I didn’t have as many practice blows like you did, and….” His voice trails off as he fumbles for an excuse when we both know he’s full of crap.
“Less whining, more blowing,” I order.
Smirking, he mutters, “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve said that––”
“Gross!” I shove him in the shoulder. “And not exactly a compliment to your love life. Now, stop stalling.”
“Fine.”
We chew and roll our tongues, pressing the gum to the roof of our mouths. Satisfied we’re both ready, I give Liam a pointed look. Grudgingly, he nods then raises his fingers, dropping them one by one.
Three.
Two.
One.
I release the oxygen in my lungs into the elastic bubble I’ve created, concentrating on slow and steady when a finger digs into my ribs, tickling the shit out of me. Distracted, my bubble completely loses its shape and deflates like a sad little balloon. My glare is firmly in place as I take in a cocky Liam who’s sporting a bubble the size of a golf ball. Yup. A pathetic little golf ball. But it still beats mine.
“You cheated!” I squeal in outrage, about ready to smack him for tickling me.
Taking the bubble into his mouth, he pops it with his teeth before arguing, “No, I didn’t. The rules were whoever blows the biggest bubble. You didn’t say what means we could use to achieve our goal.”
“You can’t be serious––”
“I’m dead serious, Fake Wife. Don’t play the game if you can’t hack it.”
“Hack it?” I narrow my gaze. “Fine. Last round. Winner takes all. But no tickling.”
His heavy stare holds mine for a solid three seconds before complying with a huff. “Fine. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
My lips twitch into a smile. “Thank you.”
For a third time, we prepare ourselves for the bubbles of the century. Then, once we’ve nodded to each other, he raises his hand and counts down.
Three.
Two.
One.
And I lunge for his thigh in an attempt to tickle him, but he flinches away from me, and I miss my target. Instead, my palm lands in his crotch while blowing the saddest little bubble I’ve ever created. However, when my hand touches something that feels a heck of a lot like a––
I pull away as if I’ve been burned by fire, my face blazing hotter than ever.
“And you say I’m competitive?” he quips, barely looking fazed at all from my groping. Although I don’t miss the fact that a bubble is absent from his stupid lips.
Popping my bubble, I mutter, “Well….” I clear my throat. “I won, didn’t I?”
“Personally, I think it’s hard to tell who came out the victor, but it was a long shot for me, anyway. Am I right?” With a wink, he leans closer to me and snaps a quick selfie, showcasing my bright red cheeks and lust-filled gaze.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I lean forward and dig into my backpack for a wrapper. I love bubblegum, but it loses its flavor so freaking fast that I’m ready for another piece. And I might also be looking for a reprieve from Liam’s intensity for a few seconds too.
Thankfully, by the time I finally gain the courage to face the guy to my left, he’s already engrossed in the movie on the screen in front of him, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Since our flight is a red-eye, the lights turn off a few minutes later. I get lost in the low hum from the engines, along with the quiet bustle from the flight attendant, and find my lids getting heavy before I know it. With a sigh, I lose my battle to stay awake and am out like a light.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll begin our descent into Rome in the next few minutes. Please put your tray tables and seats back in their upright positions. We want to thank you for flying with Delta.” My eyes pop open before squinting at the bright light as I register the flight attendant’s voice echoing through the cabin. I slept like the dead, which isn’t like me at all. Especially when I consider the fact that it was on a freaking plane! To be fair, I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster for almost thirty-six hours, so maybe it isn’t that surprising after all.
Stifling a yawn with the back of my hand, I sit up and take in my surroundings only to see a small patch of saliva on Liam’s shoulder. Apparently, I’d used him as an impromptu pillow during the flight.
Oops.
Eyes wide, I cover my mouth in surprise before an apology tumbles out of me. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to––”
“It’s fine,” he rumbles, his voice rusty from lack of use. When I remain speechless with a grimace on my face, he waves me off. “Seriously, Skye. Not a big deal.”
With the look on his face, I want to argue, but I bite my tongue.
Not a big deal. Right.
Staying silent, I catch myself peeking around him in an attempt to get a better view out of the window.
His deep chuckle reverberates through his chest when he realizes what I’m doing.
“Someone’s excited,” he notes.
“I already told you I’ve been dying to travel to Italy for my entire life. You can’t blame a girl for being anxious to see what it looks like.”
“Good point. Sometimes, I forget what it’s like to still feel excitement for something,” he mutters.
Says the guy who’s been handed everything in his life, I think before mentally chastising myself right afterward. It isn’t fair for me to assume like that. Hell, I’ve seen first
hand how crappy his family treats him. Sure, the guy can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but who am I to judge? Besides, since my mini-meltdown in the church of my dreams, he’s even been kinda, sorta a gentleman to me.
I chew my lower lip then point out, “That’s a little depressing.”
“Despite how it appears to the outside world, my life isn’t all rainbows and butterflies. Now, come here. If you’re going to look, then you’re going to get a good view.”
Wrapping his arm around my neck, he tugs me toward the window until I’m practically in his lap since he was the lucky one who scored the window seat. However, the awkward position does give me a gorgeous view of the city below me. The smell of his cologne tickles my senses, but I refrain from leaning closer and shoving my nose into his neck to get a more saturated experience.
Dude. He smells so good.
How the hell does he smell good after an almost nine-hour flight? I cringe away, leaving an extra few inches of space between us when I realize I probably smell like a dirty hamper. I peek over at my fake husband, but he doesn’t notice my odd behavior. He’s too busy staring out the window.
Turning my attention back to the view below me, I whisper, “It’s super pretty.” The lush greens of shrubbery, the cool blues of water, and the buildings scattered throughout the landscape are nothing short of breathtaking.
“Just wait ‘til I take you to a vineyard, Skye. Don’t get me wrong, the historical shit is pretty cool, but the vineyards?” He looks over at me, his eyes dropping to my mouth for a split second before returning to mine. “They’re something else.”
“You’re taking me to a vineyard?” I murmur, ignoring how close we are to each other and what a bad idea it is for me to stay in place when I know I should sit back up into my own seat.
“Of course, I am. I owe you, remember? An epic Italian vacation is the least I can do to repay you for yesterday’s bullshit. Especially since you’ve refused to let me compensate you for this whole ruse.”