Faking Forever (First Wives Book 4)

by Catherine Bybee

  “You need a hangover cure, so you called me.”

  “You’re my youngest friend. I’m not judging . . . help, Avery. I made an ass of myself and can’t be sick today.” Her stomach didn’t like the adrenaline provided by the memories of the previous night.

  “Okay, okay. What were you drinking?”

  “Tequila . . . wine earlier, and mezcal.”

  “Damn, woman. Okay, you need a Bloody Mary or mimosa. Which makes you feel less ill thinking about it?”

  “You’re kidding. Hair of the dog?”

  “Do I sound like I’m kidding? When does the wedding start?” Avery asked.

  “Two.”

  “That’s a little time. You could just sleep.”

  “I have to start taking pictures of the wedding party at noon.”

  “Then put on your dark sunglasses, go down to the restaurant, order a Bloody Mary and toast, and drink plenty of water. If you start feeling sick, drink another one.”

  “I can’t do my job drunk.” Shannon could count on one hand how many Bloody Marys she’d consumed in her lifetime.

  “Can you do your job tossing your cookies?”

  Shannon rested her head in her hand. “What was I thinking?”

  “You weren’t, obviously. But it’s kinda nice to know you’re not perfect.”

  “Of course I’m not perfect.”

  Avery chuckled. “Compared to me, you are.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Hey, you’re the one waking my ass up at five in the morning searching for a hangover cure. Babe, you get points for that, I don’t. Bloody Mary. Trust me. Keep a tiny infusion going to ward off all the crap from last night. Then, when it’s all over, sleep.”

  Shannon saw the wisdom, and the stupidity, in Avery’s suggestion. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, and Shannon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I can’t wait to hear what prompted you to get drunk your first night there.”

  Shannon shook her head and instantly regretted it. “By the time you get here, most of those reasons should be gone.”

  Avery laughed as she hung up the phone.

  With the aforementioned sunglasses covering her eyes, Shannon left her room wearing a pair of shorts, a cotton shirt, and sandals to make her way to the hotel restaurant.

  She asked for a table, because sitting at the bar would make her early morning drinking look obvious. And she really didn’t want anyone from the wedding party seeing her.

  The good news was the rain had vanished overnight.

  The bad news was the rain had vanished overnight and the sun added to the pain in her head.

  Note to self: Mezcal bad. Water good!

  Her Bloody Mary arrived and she studied it for a good five minutes.

  This is a stupid idea.

  Best idea ever!

  Stupid!!!

  “It’s meant to be drank, not stared at.”

  The voice came from behind her. Without looking, she knew the person it belonged to.

  And that had her picking up the glass.

  “I know that.”

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  The tomato juice, the vodka . . . maybe it was the pepper. Bad, bad, bad.

  “As a matter of fact . . .”

  Victor Brooks sat facing her.

  “This is becoming a bad habit,” she said, ignoring the roll in her stomach.

  “Oh?” He flagged the waiter down, ordered coffee. “What habit is that?” he asked once the waiter left.

  “You,” she said. “Invading my air space.”

  He leaned forward. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest you don’t like me very much.”

  The tomato juice wasn’t that bad after the second sip.

  She lowered her sunglasses long enough for him to see her peering at him with as much disapproval as she could muster with bloodshot eyes. “You’d be right.” This man brought out the worst in her.

  She shivered.

  “Shouldn’t you be ass kissing right now? Aren’t I the one paying you?”

  She could physically feel gray hair sprouting from her roots. “Actually, Mrs. Harkin hired me.”

  “But I’m covering the wedding.”

  The sound of reason knocked up beside her temple, but she ignored it.

  “Then fire me. I’m sure Corrie’s wedding party with their cell phones will be happy to send you their pictures.”

  He leaned forward. “I can see why your ex-husband divorced you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  There were hits . . . and then there were low hits.

  “Does Corrie know you plan on rushing back to LA by Tuesday for your meeting?”

  She could tell by the twitch in his eye that his fiancée had no idea.

  “Don’t pretend to know a thing about me when it’s obvious I know a few things about you. I’m here for Corrie, Mr. Brooks. I’ll do my best to hide your self-centered, egotistical horns while taking the pictures. But if they pop out, don’t blame me.” She stood, leaving her drink behind, and walked away.

  Let him deal with her bill.

  The incidentals of her trip were supposed to be handled by the wedding party, anyway.

  By eleven, room service had delivered a replacement drink and toast. Shannon felt seventy percent better, which was sixty-five percent more than she expected.

  Unlike the wedding guests, her outfit for the event was about blending in and becoming invisible. In the past, that meant wearing dark clothing, often pants, since kneeling to get the right shot was easier in flexible clothing.

  She’d thought ahead and bought tan cotton pants, a simple loose shirt that would breathe while she ran around in the sun, and sneakers. Although she saw herself ditching the shoes if sand getting inside of them became a thing.

  Unlike the night before, the way to travel from one location to the next was along the beach.

  A vast span of white sand spread for as far as the eye could see. The clear turquoise water faded into deeper shades of blue and disappeared on the horizon. It was spectacular. The gentle waves came on shore like an invitation. Speedboats rushing by or Jet Skis buzzing around didn’t interrupt the peaceful scene because that kind of activity was forbidden in the waters of Tulum. It was one of the reasons the location was ideal for beach weddings. In Cancun, where the hotels were bigger and the venues could hold hundreds of people, you had to contend with traffic on the water and more people wandering on the beach during the ceremony. Here, those things simply didn’t happen.

  Still, it was a destination wedding, and like Justin had said the night before, it was presumptuous to ask guests to travel such a distance to watch someone get married.

  This was the kind of place a couple escaped to when they wanted to elope. Or maybe the BFFs came along and everyone hung out for a long weekend while two people just happened to get married.

  Shannon pushed the thoughts from her head and angled down the beach to the site of the wedding ceremony.

  Already chairs were set up and a florist worked with a team of three people, decorating the space. On each side of the chairs, long benches sat framing the ceremonial space. Shannon frowned as she tried to maneuver the cramped area.

  Ida, the event coordinator, was instructing several men when Shannon found her.

  Shannon introduced herself and got straight to the point. “The benches are going to get in the way of me moving around to take the photographs the couple want.”

  “Without the benches, we don’t have enough seating for the guests. I explained to the bride that seventy-five to eighty was the perfect number. We could accommodate up to a hundred. Somehow that turned into a hundred and twenty-five.”

  Shannon looked over the space again.

  She’d have to make it work without walking past the guests on the outside lane. Which meant she’d be walking up and down the aisle quite a bit. A distraction to those attending. Hopefully Corrie and Victor wouldn’t notice.

&n
bsp; The thought of the bet she’d made the night before gave her head some peace. Even Victor’s own brother didn’t think the marriage would last, which meant the work she was doing would be burned when the divorce papers were signed.

  Not that she would let that stop her from doing the best she could.

  “I’ll make it work.”

  Shannon walked over to the hotel where Corrie, her wedding party, and immediate family were staying. The party at the beach bar was in full swing. Everyone except the staff was clothed in as little as possible to beat the heat and bronze their skin. It was obvious that not all the guests at the hotel were there for the nuptials.

  The paths between the bungalow-style rooms were dotted with palm trees and tropical flowers, all of which would work beautifully for pictures with the bride right before the ceremony. She timed it to arrive an hour and a half early, leaving the last thirty minutes while the guests were arriving to take a few snapshots of Victor and his party. Which Shannon wasn’t looking forward to. But she would hike up her big girl panties, paint on a smile, and make nice with the man.

  And then photoshop out his horns in the pictures when she returned home.

  She found the two-bedroom bungalow that shared a small courtyard. Corrie and her girls took one room, and Mr. and Mrs. Harkin had the other. She heard the girls chattering before she reached the door.

  Her knock was answered with a shout. “If you’re the groom, go away!”

  “I’m not him.”

  Laughter preceded the door opening.

  The room was an explosion of clothes, shoes, half-empty suitcases, and old trays from room service. The girls were in all states of undress. Two wore strapless bras, while Corrie and her maid of honor wore corsets.

  Corrie sat in front of a mirror while a stylist worked to add tiny flowers to her hair.

  “Good afternoon,” Shannon said to everyone as they buzzed around.

  Corrie smiled briefly at her through the mirror.

  “How are you feeling today?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. Nervous. But no rain, so that’s good.”

  Shannon kept a smile in place. “I was just next door. Everything looks fabulous.”

  The wedding party introduced themselves, but the names that stuck in Shannon’s head were Barbie, Bitsy, and Bimbo. Their high-pitched singsong voices didn’t help. “How close are you to putting on your dresses?”

  Melia was the name of the girl she’d met the night before, Corrie’s maid of honor, who answered, “Ten minutes.”

  “Perfect. And your parents, Corrie?”

  “Dad’s ready, but you’d think my mom was the one getting married today.”

  Shannon encouraged the girls to clean up the room enough so that she could get a few pictures of them getting ready without the distraction of panties in the background.

  One by one, the bridesmaids slipped into their gowns and helped the stylist with Corrie’s.

  Shannon focused in on the bride as she watched the others working around her. Her tight smile made the shots fall flat. “Your dress is beautiful,” Shannon complimented, focusing closer to capture a true grin.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Perfect. Is it what you always pictured?”

  Corrie turned and lifted her arms while Melia helped with the buttons up the back. “Yes.”

  Still no smile.

  “Look over your shoulder,” Shannon instructed. “Smile.”

  She did, but it didn’t last. “I think I need to sit down.” She lifted a hand to her head to fan herself. The color in her face started to drain.

  Shannon grabbed a chair and pushed it close. “It might be the corset.”

  Corrie slid down, her breathing jumping up a few notches.

  “Melia, turn the air on high.” Someone handed Corrie a glass of water.

  The door to the room opened and Mrs. Harkin stepped in. She frowned when she saw her daughter sitting down and everyone huddled around her. “What’s going on?”

  “I think she’s just overheated,” Shannon said.

  The door opened wider and Mr. Harkin joined them. “You okay, honey?”

  “I’m nervous. Everyone is staring at me.”

  Her observation had her girlfriends backing up a step.

  “Tell you what. I’ll take the girls outside, get a few pictures of them. We can wait to get shots with you after the ceremony. I’m sure you’ll settle once it’s all done.”

  Corrie nodded a few times.

  Shannon exited the room and dragged the girls to the spot she’d scoped out earlier. When she returned, Corrie was feeling better but wanted to wait for the very last second to join the humidity outside.

  With her work there done, Shannon left the girls in search of the men.

  Unlike the women, the men were propped up on a deck, feet on the railing, wearing shorts and T-shirts.

  Shannon saw Justin first and shook her head. “You do know there’s a wedding in an hour, right?”

  “If it isn’t the sassy photographer.”

  She had to own the title. “That’s me. I’m bossy, too.”

  Victor stuck his head out the sliding glass door. He, at least, was dressed. Gray dress pants and a button up shirt. “Looks like someone knows there’s a timeline to this thing,” Shannon quipped.

  “In an hour,” Victor said.

  “Yeah, I heard. I need you guys dressed in fifteen. I have what I need from the women, and now it’s your turn.” She didn’t have any trouble asserting herself when it came to doing her job. In her experience, on their own, men waited until the last second to get ready, or for someone like her to bark an order.

  Justin pushed off the chair he was sitting in. “You heard the lady. Let’s get moving.”

  Ten minutes later, the men filed out of the room. Hair combed back, dress pants, white shirts. Light jackets. Shannon took the liberty of snapping a few pictures of them standing and joking around with each other. She caught Justin sucking on his finger, a smirk on his face.

  Cute.

  Using the ocean and a lone palm tree as her backdrop, Shannon posed the men in a series of shots that were both serious and whimsical. Much like Corrie’s, Victor’s smile for her camera felt forced. She couldn’t help but think it was her. It wasn’t like she’d tried hard to make a good impression on the man or put him at ease with her instructions.

  Then again, she had a fifty-dollar bet with the brother on how long the marriage would last. Maybe he was having second thoughts.

  “Okay, Victor. Let’s get a few shots with your brother.”

  She posed them next to a crooked palm tree that stretched horizontally nearly as much as it did vertically. The second she had them in the right frame, Victor turned to her and smiled.

  She waved him off. “No, no . . . I want you to talk to each other.”

  Victor looked confused.

  “Natural. I want to capture something real between the two of you.”

  Justin looked at his brother and laughed softly.

  “Act normal?”

  Shannon watched them from behind the lens.

  “What should we talk about?” Victor asked.

  “About how I’m the better-looking brother?” Justin teased.

  She captured an eye roll.

  “You wish.”

  She changed her angle, fired off a few more shots.

  “What do you think, Shannon? Team Justin or Team Victor?”

  Laughing, she knelt. Victor won, hands down . . . but she wasn’t about to give him the point. “Oh, I don’t know. We have to pull the stick out of Victor’s butt before I can judge.”

  There it was. Shouts of laughter that had both men with genuine smiles filled with good humor.

  “Oh, man, Vic . . . she has your number.”

  Victor turned his smile on her, a smirk reaching his eyes.

  “Got it,” she said, lowering her camera. “Okay, let’s go next door and get a few more with your parents before the ceremony.”
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  Scott and Renee Brooks were polar opposites of the Harkins. Warm and inviting, they didn’t seem the least bit interested in taking over anything. They stood beside their son and smiled when asked. Again, Shannon encouraged Justin to stand beside his parents and asked them to talk among themselves. Finding the casual and genuine shot was always more appealing than the staged, plastic moments other photographers reached for.

  Guests started meandering toward their seats, saving their places and scurrying out of the direct sun, which would hide behind a white cloud every once in a while. The breeze had picked up a little bit, offering relief, but threatening the flower stands poked into the sand.

  With an eye on the time, Shannon let Victor and his wedding party go in search of Corrie and the girls. She found two of the bridesmaids hovering by the door of the air-conditioned room the bride was supposed to stay in right before walking down the aisle.

  “Is Corrie here?” Shannon asked the girls.

  The taller of the two blondes shook her head. “She’s still in our room with Melia.”

  “Is she on her way?”

  The girls smiled. “Her mom and dad just left to go get her.”

  Satisfied with that, Shannon found Ida and waited for Corrie to arrive.

  Minutes trickled by as the guests took their seats. Music played softly in the background.

  Shannon kept one eye on the far right of the crowd, where Victor stood in what seemed like deep conversation with his brother, and the other eye on the path Corrie would take to the staging room.

  She glanced at her watch.

  This wouldn’t be the first wedding to start late.

  Ten minutes past the hour, Mr. Harkin rounded the corner. Shannon sighed and lifted her camera in anticipation.

  And then watched while Mr. Harkin marched straight down the aisle and up to Victor.

  The guests paused in their conversations to watch.

  “What?” The question came from Victor’s lips and was heard from several feet away.

  Without a pause, Victor turned toward the adjacent hotel and took the quick path along the beach.

  Shannon found herself racing after him.

  Some of the guests started to stand.

  Justin waved his hands in the air. “Just a delay, everyone. We’ll be right back.” Then he was gone.

  Shannon was a couple of yards behind, holding her camera and chasing the wedding party along the uneven sand.