“Sounds pretty creepy for a guy who wanted to move on.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not sure he does want to move on. After I found out about the other women-”
“Women? The scumbag cheated on you with more than one?”
She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. She watched Sam’s demeanor change. He couldn’t fake emotion. He never had been able to. He was the kind of guy who wore his heart on his sleeve and at the moment, she could tell he was pissed.
“Yeah. I don’t know how many or how many times, but I know there were two for sure. I don’t want to get back together. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Again, change your circle, change your life, change your career.”
“It’s not that easy. I have to support myself. I wanted the marriage to be over so I left without much of anything. Everything was his, bought with his money, and I didn’t want any of it. I didn’t want that reminder in my life.”
“You should have fought harder. You should have made him pay.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Anyway, I didn’t. I’m not like that, Sam. I thought you knew that.”
“I don’t know what you’re like anymore, Amy,” he responded, voice icy.
She wanted to snap at him, maybe even slap him, but she remained neutral. Unlike Sam, she could control her emotions. She could play the game with the best of them, because she’d had to, at one time. She’d had years of practice at keeping her thoughts to herself. She didn’t like it, but sometimes it was necessary.
“I was at a party a few weeks ago. I overheard a few people talking about me. They said it was pathetic that I hadn’t moved on. They said it was sending the wrong signals, like I either liked being a victim or that I was holding out hope that maybe Ray and I could get back together.”
“And you didn’t like that?”
“No. I didn’t like it. I started thinking about it and I thought maybe it was true. These people know him. They probably were voicing thoughts directly from his own mouth. If he really thinks I’m not in a relationship because I haven’t moved on and that I want to get back together, it might be the reason he hasn’t left me alone.”
“So you’re here because…”
She finally looked at Sam and realized he was looking right at her as well. Her stomach cramped up painfully. The horrible fist of apprehension tightened. It was more than that though. It was looking into the eyes of a person that she’d once loved. My first love. It was looking into the eyes of a man who she’d known her entire life and left because she damn well had to in order to save them all. It was looking into the face of her own regret and pain. She knew she’d wounded him. She’d wounded them all. She just wished she could explain to him how her own heart hurt.
“Honestly, Sam, I need you to help me. I have a proposition for you. I make good money doing what I do. I make things. You know that. Sculptures and art and refinish furniture and what not. I can’t just drop all of my clients. These people support me. Without them I wouldn’t have the means to support myself or save for whatever it is I want to really do with my life now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His tone said he wasn’t sorry at all.
“I’m only telling you that because I have a proposition for you. I want to pay you for two weeks’ worth of work. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“What kind of work?” His tone said he didn’t trust her one bit.
“Uh- it’s awkward to ask, but I want you to pretend to be my fiancé.”
“fiancé?” He scoffed. He nearly fell back in surprise, but recovered quickly. “You don’t even have a boyfriend and everyone knows it and you want me to pretend that out of nowhere, you’re going to get married?”
“I could say that I kept it on the down low, because of everything else that was going on. I’m a private person. People would understand. It wouldn’t be out of nowhere. I would just say that I wanted to keep it quiet and that I value my own privacy. Believe me, they would understand. People know how Richard is.”
“Is he a psycho? This is what you want me to contend with?”
“No, he’s not a psycho,” she scoffed. “And you wouldn’t have to contend with him. I don’t see him anymore. We are always careful about that. If I know he’s going somewhere where I’m also invited, I don’t go. Our friends know it, that I don’t like being around him. They usually don’t invite us at the same time or they give me a heads up.”
Sam shook his head. “No way. No way at all. That is just crazy. I’m not going to lie to people just to help you save face.”
“It’s not about me saving face. I just don’t want people to say I’m hopeless. If they start thinking that and side with him and anything else he might say, I’m not going to be able to support myself. I do care about that. I use some of that money for mom and dad. You know my mom hasn’t been well. I send them money every month to help them out. This is as much about them as it is about me.”
“Oh no,” Sam shook his head vehemently. “Don’t make this about your parents. This is about you and your snobby little friends in your snobby little world. You can go to hell, for all I care, Amy. You left and you haven’t bothered with any of us in ten years. You haven’t bothered to come back. Your parents go to Miami to see you, not the other way around.”
Amy blinked back tears. She didn’t want to cry. She wouldn’t let Sam make her cry. She’d never given him the satisfaction growing up. They used to arm wrestle and even when he won or if he hurt her by accident, she wouldn’t let on. She’d once wiped out on her bike so hard she was bleeding all down her right arm. She had the worst road rash she’d ever experienced or even seen. She hadn’t cried then. She was supposed to be tough. She wouldn’t cry now.
“I’d give you all the commission I make this month if you’d do it,” she said.
“No, that’s not good enough. I’m not saying I would do it,” Sam said slowly. “And if I did, it would be to rub those rich noses in their own shit…”
“Come on! What good would that do? I want you to be a good fake fiancé. Not this crazy person. How would that help me at all?”
“I’m not going to help you. I’m just saying, I could never act like that. I could never be fake like that.”
“Oh really? Okay, well, I guess I’ll just ignore the fact that you’re drowning in debt. I know about that house you bought and had to sell at a loss. I know about the student loans from school and the car payments. You totaled that truck you bought and you’re still paying it off, even though you’re not driving it anymore since they wouldn’t cover it all.”
Sam shut his eyes. If he was angry before, she knew she’d really tipped the scales now. She shouldn’t have done it, but the Sam she used to know sometimes needed a damn good goading to even begin to listen. He didn’t just need a push in the right direction, he needed a shove.
“Damn my mom and her mouth,” he swore.
“Sam!”
“She doesn’t have to tell your mom everything.”
“Look,” she sighed. “I know that we were friends growing up. This is important to me. I don’t want this to be the rest of my life. I want to move on. I want to forget about this. What happened, the divorce and everything, it was hard for me. It was hard to be the one that someone else just threw away. I know you need help. I need help. I thought we could come to an agreement and it would be just that.”
“And how much, exactly, do you make per month?” She could tell what it cost Sam to ask that question.
“Well, this month would be different. You see, if I was suddenly on the radar for having a fiancé, people would take interest. All of a sudden, my art would be in demand. I’d probably be able to sell about fifty grand worth of work. I have a massive amount of stuff put away that I could bring out. Plus all the other work people would pay me for up front.”
“Fifty grand!” Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Why the hell do you need my help if you make fifty grand a month?”
<
br /> “I don’t. That’s the point. I make maybe four if I’m lucky. I need to go back to school, Sam, if I can’t make this art thing work. I didn’t do it before and that was my mistake. I can’t do it on four grand. I can’t help my parents on four grand. I was hoping, as well as getting my ex-husband off my back and finally being able to be free, that I could pay you and use the future commissions to save enough for school.” She swallowed hard. “Mom is getting really bad. She hasn’t told anyone, but she’s going to have be moved into the city soon. The MS is getting worse. She can’t do anything for herself anymore, and my dad isn’t in any better health. He’s riddled with arthritis. It’s hard enough for him to get around, never mind lifting my mom and caring for her and doing everything. He just can’t take that on anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam mumbled. She could see that he truly meant it. “I didn’t know it was that bad for them.”
“I need some money saved up to help them. Maybe I should have asked for a settlement when I got a divorce, but I just wanted out. Maybe I haven’t done anything right. Maybe I’ve done everything completely wrong. I know I shouldn’t be here asking you this. I know it’s not your responsibility, but please, Sam. For all the good times we had? Just for that? For the promise we made as kids? For both of us, for a clean slate? For our parents… will you help me?”
Chapter 3
Send Her Packing
Sam
Say no. Send her packing. His hands balled into fists as he stood. He wanted to do it, damn it. He wanted to just blurt the words, turn and stalk inside and for that to be the end of it. He knew, though, that it was far from the end. He wasn’t quite sure there ever would be an end, where Amy was concerned. She’d always be in his head, digging wormholes of memory through his brain.
He winced at his own gross analogy. Wormholes were going too far.
Sam was about to turn her away and she knew it. Her face fell and she got that pleading sort of look that she used to get back in high school, that crestfallen crease in her brow, the slight pout of her full bottom lip. Just seeing her eyes fill up with tears was enough to make him want to change his mind, but the situation had disaster written all over it.
Before he could get any words out, he was saved by the bang of the screen door behind him. He whirled and found his mother standing there. Just as he’d anticipated, she’d changed into a blue dress with a white sweater, the one with the little pearl buttons she always saved just for church.
“Amy! What a nice surprise!” As though Amy hadn’t walked out on them all ten years ago, as though she hadn’t broken her son’s heart, Betty opened her arms.
Amy stood shyly and stepped into them. She hugged his mom like she meant it. He wasn’t pleased to find that he wished he could have been the one to offer a hug. He’d never gathered Amy into his arms. Not once. He’d never kissed those lips he’d spent the better part of his life dreaming about, tasted her, caressed her… and still he’d spent so many wasted years thinking about her.
“Come on in! I was just making buns. There are cookies on the table. I just made them this morning.”
“Molasses?”
“That’s right! How did you guess!”
Amy offered a sheepish smile. “Sam actually shared one of his with me. I’m not actually a real fortune teller.”
Betty tittled away at that from behind the hand she’d thrust over her mouth to hide her child like giggles. Sam couldn’t believe that Amy stood up and actually stepped up beside him like she was going to follow his mom inside and sit at their table like no time at all had passed and she was actually welcome in the house. Didn’t she know that his mom was just trying to be nice? Isn’t she? Betty deserved to know what she was dealing with.
“Actually, mom, Amy was just leaving. She came here asking me to play some kind of game with her, but I’m not interested.”
Amy paused. She turned slowly and her eyes shot daggers, though her face remained carefully neutral. She always was a damn good actress, unfortunately.
“Oh, what kind of a game?” Betty was still smiling, like Sam was the one who was just kidding. She couldn’t imagine that he’d ever treat a guest so impolitely.
“A fake fiancé game. See, her ex-husband is pissing her off stalking her all the time and she wants to show all her rich friends and clients that she’s doing okay, and maybe then the guy will just fuck off for a change.”
Betty frowned. “Sam, really. You know I don’t like that kind of language.”
“I work at a garage, mom. Comes with the territory.”
“Not my territory it doesn’t. Don’t swear in front of Amy either.” Her eyes slowly swiveled to Amy’s face. “Is that true, honey? That you’re looking for someone to play a part so that your ex stops bothering you?”
“Yeah,” Amy admitted. “It sounds pretty stupid when it’s said out loud. I thought in my own head that it was a decent idea. I tried to explain it to Sam. He’s only telling you ten percent of the story.”
Sam waited. He watched his mother’s face, expecting her to come out and chastise Amy for having the nerve to come there and ask her son for such a ridiculous favor. The fact that she was willing to basically bribe him by paying him was only that much worse.
“Well, I think that’s a fun idea.”
“Mom!” Sam couldn’t believe it. “I’m not some toy for her to come here and use as she will. If she wants a fake fiancé, she can go pay some aspiring actor to do it for her.”
“But Sam,” Betty protested.
Her eyes flicked to Amy’s face and when he saw the tenderness in their depths, he was reminded of how close their mothers actually were. They probably hoped that one day their kids would grow up and be married for real. Something hard and potent walloped him right in the gut when he even thought about playing any kind of fiancé game, be it fake or real. There had been a time in his life, when she was with his brother still, that he’d hoped like hell they wouldn’t ever end up married. It would have been the worst form of torture having to have Amy in his life, being close to her and knowing that he’d never be the one to have her.
“Come on, mom. You can’t be serious!”
“It would only be for like, a week,” Amy protested. “Okay, maybe two. Not like all the time, just here and there.”
“For two weeks?” Sam threw up his hands. “And then what? I just suddenly disappear?”
“No. I would say that you live somewhere else. Like, across the country and that you’re planning on moving to Miami pretty soon.”
“And you just randomly happened to meet me where?”
“New York?” Betty chimed in. She clasped her hands together in front of her waist and let out a little excited squeal. “Oh my goodness, this is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait to hear all about it! Come in, Amy, and tell me more. Henry will want to hear all the details too!”
“Mom!” Sam ground out. “I didn’t say yes. I would never-”
“Come on, Sam. What’s the harm in a little sport here and there? It will be good for you to get out and have a good time.” She actually reached up to pinch his cheek in the ultimate act of motherly humiliation, but he dodged away. Hell no. His eyes flew to Amy’s face and it was too much to see her fighting a smile.
She followed Betty in through the door that she held open. Right into the house, the place that was supposed to be a refuge of sorts for Sam, a place to unwind at the end of the week, a place to relax and let his mom provide a home cooked meal for him.
“Not New York,” he mumbled under his breath. “Colorado maybe.”
His parent’s house was not supposed to be a place where Amy Anders sat down at the table and discussed fake s or dates. It wasn’t a place for Amy at all. Seeing her there, even in the entrance, padding down the hall ahead of him, trailing behind his mom, stirred up a hell of a lot of memories he’d far rather forget. Torturous memories of a childhood spent with Amy, of the first time he realized that she wasn’t just a friend or a playmate, of seein
g her baking with his mom, helping out with dishes, laughing and dancing with his brother, shooting him a sideways glance as filled with longing as he himself felt, when no one else was looking.
Sam gave his head a shake. To hell with memories and to hell with fake fiancé plans. There was absolutely no way he was getting involved. Amy could stay for some cookies and a bun and then he was going to kick her out of his life- and out of his head, for good.
Chapter 4
According To Plan
Amy
Even if nothing had gone according to whatever sort of plan she’d made up in her head, which was basically try not to grovel or burst into tears as she begged for Sam to help her, she had her in. It came in the form of molasses cookies, fresh baked buns and two very dear, aged, smiling faces.
It was hard to see how everyone changed and grew old. She’d really noticed it with her mom’s decline in health the past few years. Her dad had more gray hair every single time she saw him. She hadn’t seen Sam’s parents in ten years. Not since she walked out on Howie to get away from the complicated mess of feelings that had always been entrenched deep within her for Sam.
Running wasn’t the answer. She’d thought that if she kept busy enough, if she buried herself in work and art and in finding someone else, she’d be able to free herself. She was wrong. She might have been able to tear herself away from Sam, but he, and his family, they were always going to be a part of her.
“Amy has the most amazing thing to tell us,” Betty announced as soon as Amy’s ass touched down on the hard wood chair seat. It was vintage, the quarter sawn oak kind with a flat black cushion that was supposed pass for comfort, but didn’t even come close.
Sam’s dad had the most beautiful deep brown eyes. They were soft and aged looking, with lines deeply entrenched in the corners. He’d been a fixture at school, since he’d been the janitor there far before she and Sam were even thought of. She liked Henry a lot. He’d never been scary like some of her friend’s dads growing up. He was soft spoken and she’d never seen him angry about anything.
Fake It: A Sizzling Hot Pretend Romance Page 2