Faking It

by Holly Hart

  The bad news – if that’s what you want to call it – is Nate lost his job while we were away. The good news – and you can definitely call it good – is that he was going to quit even if he hadn’t been pushed out first.

  I can’t say I was sad about it. Especially since, as far as I can tell, Nate’s missions all seemed to revolve around him going undercover and getting girls to trust him!

  By the time three months were up, the sun had burned into my skin. I had never been this tanned in my entire life. I started to get worried about what in the world I was going to do when I got home, but Nate sprung a surprise on me.

  It turns out, that when an international bank gets one of their employees embroiled in a major drug scandal that results in them being kidnapped, and nearly costs them their life, they certainly become very willing to settle.

  Five million dollars willing to settle…

  Here I thought eighty grand was a lot.

  Heck, I don’t know what I’m going to do with it all. I guess that because I don’t have to work for a while – probably ever if I don’t want to – I have some time to figure it out.

  I’m going to put major life plans on the back burner, though, just for a little while. Just for a few months. I guess while I was out in Morocco, I never thought about protection once. The truth of the matter is, I guess, I didn’t want to.

  So Nate and I are having a baby!

  I don’t know if it’s a boy, and I don’t know if it’s a girl. I don’t want to know, not yet. But if she’s a girl, I’m going to call her Alice, after Mama. I haven’t told Nate this yet, but if it’s a boy, I want to call him Tony. I hope he likes it.

  I guess that’s about all I wanted to say. I should go, anyway. It’s the second trimester scan, today, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  Part I

  Faking It Extra Content!

  32

  Extended Epilogue

  Four Years Later

  Charlie

  “You look beautiful,” I whisper.

  It’s true, she does. Fifteen years on, I still can’t believe that I played a part in making something as amazing as my teenage daughter.

  Fifteen years! In my head, it was only yesterday that I cradled her tiny body in my hands for the first time. It was only yesterday I heard her burble her first word, and only yesterday that I watched her take her first tottering steps.

  Tilly looks up at me anxiously.

  She’s wearing a gorgeous, pastel-blue dress, and she wipes her palms on it nervously, smoothing creases that simply don’t exist.

  “You think so, dad?” She asks, wringing her hands.

  “Dad!” I groan. “Since when do you call me that?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tilly grins – a flash of her usual, upbeat, tenacious self shining through. “Daddy.”

  But just as before, my gorgeous daughter retreats into her shell. I take a couple of steps forward, my leather-soled shoes clicking against the flagstones. I kneel down in front of her, careful not to get my suit trousers too dusty.

  Not today, of all days. Penny would forgive me – of course she would – but there’s no need for that.

  “You aren’t growing up on me, are you kiddo?” I whisper. “I thought I told you to check with me before you did anything stupid like that…”

  I have to.

  Whisper, that is. My throat is closing up.

  I feel like I only just closed my eyes yesterday, and yet four years has flown by. It was only yesterday, I’m sure of it! Except the proof is right in front of me. My gorgeous daughter, fifteen years old, and bearing the ring that Penny has been wearing for four years.

  “You don’t understand,” Tilly groans.

  She’s got that – now familiar – teenage girl moodiness on her face. Tilly never complains. She’s not one of those hell-raising teenage kids, in fact she’s a delight to live with. But I raised my daughter alone for eleven years. I know when there’s something up with her.

  “Seriously – what’s wrong?” I ask, kinking an eyebrow. “You’re all mopey!”

  “Dad –!” Tilly pauses, composing herself. “I mean, daddy. Have you seen that crowd?”

  I stand up, open a well-oiled wooden door and peek my head into the church. It’s almost full, packed to the rafters with friends and family – and guests that I’ve known for years. Tilly’s right. I guess it is kind of an intimidating sight.

  After all, I’ve never done this before. Tilly’s mother and I – we never officially married. And the first time Penny and I traveled down this rabbit hole, we did so in my office!

  My lawyer and friend Harper Cole is as eagle-eyed as ever. She spots me from the crowd and throws me a happy wave. I return it. She’s got a gorgeous man on her arm. He’s got to be close to six and a half feet tall, giving even Harper a run for her money.

  “So what’s the big deal, kiddo?” I ask, turning and looking quizzically at my daughter. “What’s on your mind?”

  With a shock, I realize that Tilly is beginning to show the first signs of womanhood. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Maybe I’ve been putting it out of my mind. I should talk to Penny about it.

  Maybe she’ll know what to do.

  “Can I be honest with you?” Tilly asks, almost wincing at the prospect.

  “Always!”

  “I’m freaking out, daddy. How am I supposed to go out in front of all those people. You know how many supermodels are out there?”

  I glance back out into the packed church. Now Tilly brings it up, I have to admit, there are a surprising number of stunning women in the crowd.

  “So?”

  “Daddy! I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

  I close the church’s aged wooden door with a thunk, and hold up my hands. “I’m sorry, Tilly. I’ll listen. Try me.”

  Tilly twists her hands anxiously. “Don’t laugh.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “It’s just… Willow Winters is out there, daddy. She was on the front cover of Vogue last week! And there’s Alexis Abbott, she’s like the face of Gucci, or something, and KB Winters –”

  I interrupt. “What kind of name is KB?”

  If looks could kill, the look my daughter shoots me would turn sand into glass. “That’s not the point, daddy,” she groans. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  I walk over to my daughter. “No. I think I do, kiddo. You’re nervous, right?”

  Tilly looks up at me with eyes that are prickling with tears. She nods. “Right.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be worried about, kid. Trust me, every single eye in the place is going to be on you.”

  Damn. Was that the right thing to say?

  “All of those models, you know why they are here?”

  “To see you get married?” Tilly asks.

  I wink. “I’m already married, kiddo. Officially speaking, anyway… No. They are here to celebrate with us. With our family. They might be gorgeous, but you know what?”

  “What?”

  “None of them have got a patch on you. As far as I’m concerned you’ll be the most beautiful –.”

  I catch myself just in time. If there’s one thing a man’s not supposed to say on his wedding day, it’s that there’s a girl out there who’s more beautiful than his soon-to-be wife. Or his already wife, in my case.

  Even if that other woman is his own daughter!

  “– Okay, maybe the second most beautiful girl in that room.” I grin. Finally I steal a smile from Tilly’s cheeks. “See – your daddy’s still got it!”

  “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Tilly says, still downbeat. “I’ve got braces, and I know you can see the pimple that’s breaking out on my forehead, and –”

  “And I don’t care about any of that,” I say seriously. “You’re a teenager – so what! Hell, you should have seen what I was like as a kid. Pimply faced, all gangly like you wouldn’t believe, and about as attractive as a wooden post –”

  “No way!”
Tilly interrupts, loyal as ever.

  I chuckle. “Yes way, kiddo. And you better believe it. Trust me, you’ll grow out of it all.”

  “You sure?” Tilly asks, glancing up at me anxiously. For the first time she sounds like the kid she still – mostly – is.

  I shoot her a smile of reassurance. I know that my daughter isn’t really worried about her looks. She’s not that kind of girl. She’s worried about the crowd outside, and about messing up, and a host of other things. But I know she won’t. Because I know my daughter.

  “Positive,” I say. As I do, the organ music starts playing.

  Holy crap – this is it!

  Ever since I first suggested renewing our wedding vows to Penny, part of me never really believed it would happen. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. But now the moment is here, it’s me that’s nervous!

  “You ready to do this?” I grin.

  Tilly puts her game face on. She cradles the ring box in her palm, closes her eyes for a second to compose myself, then looks back up at me and smiles.

  I hold up my fist, and she bumps it.

  “I’m a cool daddy, right?” I grin.

  Tilly rolls her eyes…

  “Just don’t mess up,” she says.

  Penny

  “Robbie,” I murmur over the bouquet of flowers I’m holding at my breast. My best friend is fiddling with my hair.

  The organ music is playing in the background. I know that in only a few seconds, I’m going to walk out of this little side door, and my dad’s going to walk me down the aisle. The doctors said he might not live five months, but it’s four years on, and there’s no sign of the cancer coming back.

  Robbie’s tongue sticks out of her mouth as she concentrates on corraling a few rogue strands of my hair.

  “Penny, I love you, but if this is about the boots –”

  I hold back a laugh, glancing down at Robbie’s footwear. She’s actually wearing the pale blue bridesmaid’s dress I picked out for her. She didn’t even complain when I asked her to lay off the hair dye.

  But I had to make one concession.

  So Robbie’s wearing studded black leather ankle boots instead of heels. Maybe other brides would hate it, but I’m not them. I love it. Robbie’s bringing her own unique style to my wedding, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “It’s not about the boots,” I laugh. “I swear.”

  “Good,” Penny grunts. She pats at my hair. “There – Penny, you look beautiful.” She winks at me. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s your wedding day…”

  I elbow her. “You better not be!”

  Robbie glances through the side door. “Looks like we’re just about ready to rock ‘n roll. What’s on your mind?”

  I consider holding onto the thought that’s on my mind, but then decide against it. Hell, if a bride can’t be a few minutes late to her own wedding, then what the hell’s the point in having it at all!

  Besides: I’ve been waiting for this wedding for four years. Charlie can wait another few seconds.

  “I just found out yesterday,” I say.

  “Found out what?” Robbie says, dancing from one leather-studded boot to the other. She’s clearly uncomfortable with the delay.

  “I’ve been feeling a bit queasy, you know. And I just sensed that something was – ”

  Robbie’s mouth drops open, forming a perfect O. “No. Wait, are you serious?”

  I nod, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, Robbie, I am. I’m pregnant!”

  Robbie throws herself at me, stopping herself at the last moment. “Shit, you’re all made up. God, Pen, I want to hug you so bad. How? When? I thought you couldn’t have kids!”

  “Just freaking hug me already,” I say. “I’m as surprised as you are. We’ve been trying for four years. On IVF the last two, like I told you. And nothing was happening. So, I don’t know.”

  Robbie gives me the biggest bearhug anyone’s ever received. It’s times like this I’m glad I’ve got a tomboy for a best friend.

  “You’re going to be an amazing mom,” she says. Incredibly, Robbie – the hardest girl I know – sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.

  “I’ve got something to ask you,” I say, as the organ music reaches a crescendo. Robbie’s clearly forgotten her hurry from a few seconds ago.

  “Anything!”

  “Will you…” I whisper, my mouth suddenly dry. “Will you be my baby’s God mom?”

  Robbie fall silent. Heck, I wish I could fall pregnant every week, if this is the reaction it has on her!

  “You’re serious…” She stammers.

  “Deadly,” I grin. “Sorry – bad joke. But seriously, if anything should ever happen to me and Charlie, Robbie – I can’t think of a better person – a better friend – to take care of my little baby.”

  “I’m honored,” Robbie whispers, her hand pressed to her mouth. “Does Charlie know?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Not even that I’m pregnant. I don’t know how the heck I’m going to get through the reception without so much as a drop of alcohol…”

  “I’ve got your back,” Robbie says, stepping up immediately like I knew she would. “Knowing how expensive the hotel you picked is, I’m sure they can rustle up some non-alcoholic champagne.”

  The organist is by now on his second rendition of the bridal march. I kink an eyebrow. “So – reckon we should get this show on the road?”

  “I’ll go get Jack,” Robbie nods, hand still clapped over her mouth. “See you at the altar?”

  I nod.

  I love my best friend to the moon and back, but I can’t deny that she’s a gossip. I just hope I get a chance to tell Charlie my secret before she does!

  Robbie does her job quickly. A few seconds later, dad opens the door to the church’s ante-room, and steps in.

  “You look good, dad,” I smile. “Real good.”

  Dad – Jack Walters to the rest of the world – does look good. He’s five years older than he was, and his hair never really recovered from the chemotherapy. It’s the same color as Charlie’s eyes. It makes me feel at home.

  At least, he claims it was the chemotherapy’s fault. I’m not so sure…

  “I’m an old man, Penny,” dad laughs. “You don’t need to lie to me. But you, you look wonderful, darling.”

  I shoot him a knowing glance. “Been there, done that,” I whisper. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Dad holds out his arm. “So – you ready?” He asks. “Because if not, I’ve got the car fueled. We could make a run for Mexico…”

  I giggle. “I’m good, dad.”

  We step out into the main section of the church. I lean into my dad’s arm. It’s hard for me to believe how much healthier he is these days, after I saw him withering away in his hospital bed.

  He feels like a man again – all muscle and life.

  The guests stand to the right and left of us as I walk down the aisle. There isn’t a dry eye in the house.

  I look up, through my veil, and see my already husband is waiting for me, wearing an expression of joy on his face. Tilly’s just behind him, guarding the ring box like a guard at Fort Knox. People say that your wedding day is the happiest day of your life.

  I never knew if I believed that.

  But for Charlie Thorne, I know it’s true.

  “I’m so proud of you, Penny,” dad whispers. “And I’m so happy how you turned out. Remember, I’m always here for you if you need me.”

  He relinquishes me, and I kiss his cheek. “Thanks, dad,” I whisper. “I love you.”

  I take my place in front of the minister. He begins immediately.

  “Does anyone present know of any reason why these persons may not lawfully marry?”

  I glance at Robbie, shooting her one hell of a look. She looks anywhere but me!

  “That’s a relief,” the minister grins. Our guests titter in unison.

  “The vows you are about to take to be made in the presence of Go
d, who is judge of all and knows all of the secrets of our hearts; therefore if either of you know of a reason why you may not lawfully marry, you must declare it now.”

  Charlie glances at me, and we shake our heads in unison.

  “Charles, will you take Penny to be your wife?”

  “I will.”

  “Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, and be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

  “I will.”

  “Penny, will you take Charlie to be your husband?”

  “I will.”

  “Will you love him, comfort him, honor and protect him, and be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?

  “Then,” the minister smiles. “By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I hereby declare you man and wife. Charles – you may kiss the bride.”

  Charlie steps forward. He turns to his daughter, plucks the ring from the box and slides it on to my finger. I’ve worn it for four years, haven’t taken it off since the day Charlie slid it on to my finger in his office.

  This morning, my finger felt naked, hungry for the burden of love it has carried all these years.

  “I love you, Penny Thorne,” Charlie whispers the second before his lips graze mine.

  “I love you right back.” I say.

  He kisses me.

  Penny

  I don’t care how many times it happens, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to climbing the stairs into a private jet.

  Besides, Charlie’s – and my, I guess – plane is no ordinary beast. It’s not some dinky little Gulfstream jet with space for seven or eight passengers, and a little closet for drinks. Hell no!

  It’s a freaking Boeing 787. They call it a Dreamliner, but I don’t know if that’s true. After all, I’ve been on my back in this thing dozens of times, and I’ve never caught so much as a wink of sleep!