My (Mostly) Fake Wedding: A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy (My (Mostly) Funny Romance Series Book 2)

by Penelope Bloom

  Speaking to my brother required an ability to tune out portions of what came from his mouth. He couldn’t help himself, I’d learned, and it was like speaking another language. I’d learned to cut through his sarcasm and jokes to pluck the true meaning. “A man would find the wedding planner and tell her how he felt. A scared little boy would pretend to masturbate with his protein shake and hide in his room all morning.”

  “Why do I feel like this just got personal?”

  I sighed, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Talk to her.”

  38

  Belle

  It was late morning and the day was still holding a refreshing coolness in the air. In front of me, a wall of green was speckled with vibrant purple flowers and the sounds of activity filtered through the gardens all around me. Somewhere, I heard two people trying to decide how to overcome some issue in the kitchens. In another direction, it sounded like a group of kids were playing tag while their parents chatted and watched.

  It was one of those rare, unexpectedly perfect moments that sometimes snuck up on me.

  So I sat there in the cute little sundress I’d thrown on just drinking it in. Because I’d gradually come to realize something: happiness and good things weren’t what I’d always imagined. They weren’t facts of life you could plan your day around. They weren’t guarantees that came with iron-clad money-back promises.

  When I looked back on my life, I could see all the best things and the best moments had snuck up on me. They’d flitted by just like a gorgeous animal might poke its head from the brush, catch the sunlight for a few seconds, then scamper away.

  And maybe that was some sort of secret to life. I needed to open myself up and enjoy the moments that I got, even if it was just a beautiful morning in a beautiful place.

  Or, a little voice in my head chimed in, a beautifully ridiculous man in an insanely ridiculous situation.

  I let that thought settle into my head as I sat there, brain wandering over everything that had happened in such a seemingly short period of time. Over how much had changed already.

  I had about half an hour before the frenzy of the day was scheduled to fully consume me. Hair, makeup, dress fittings, and all of that was after I personally went down to the outdoor area where the ceremony would take place for one last look.

  My father and brother found me as I sat near the gardens. I hadn’t realized I’d been remembering the time Chris and I hooked up in a flower-filled room until I was staring eye to eye with my father.

  I blushed, even though he had no way of knowing what I was thinking.

  “Seems like you’ve really done a number here,” my father said, hiking up his slacks to sit beside me.

  Asher took the spot on my other side.

  “A good number or a bad one?”

  “Guess we’ll find out in a few hours.” He was glaring off into the distance, and I sensed that I was supposed to say something here. Given that I’d only come clean about the arrangement with Chris to my brother, I could see why my father would be mad. He’d think I should’ve made him aware sooner that I was interested in someone—or that the someone should’ve at least spoken to him before we were engaged.

  I gave him a one-armed hug. “You’ll learn to like Chris.” I rested my head on my dad’s shoulder, wondering what I meant by that. Would he? I’d gotten the feeling Chris was about to tell me he already had his extension—that he was only agreeing to follow through with the wedding because he knew it was important for the future of my business. In other words, the prognosis for our marriage was likely to be dead upon arrival, and my father wouldn’t learn to like Chris, because he’d hardly ever see him.

  “You really did do a great job setting this all up,” Asher said.

  “Hopefully it’s enough. I still get about three nasty reviews and a handful of emails every day about Texas. Sometimes I’m not even sure a home run here would be enough good publicity to outweigh the bad.”

  Asher bumped his knee into mine with a little smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

  I heard footsteps crunching up behind us in the grass. “Can I have a word alone with her?”

  We all turned to see Lance standing there with his hands in his pocket. I almost laughed a little when I saw he was wearing a turtleneck. Chris and his damn comment had poisoned my mind so all I could see was a veiny, phallic turtle’s neck when I looked at Lance.

  I couldn’t help still feeling a little wave of… something to see him. Lance had been a fixture in my life for so long. I’d had so many butterflies in the stomach moments around him. So many wasted dreams and hopes. Now it all felt like it was mixed together with a strange blend of nostalgia and bittersweet sadness.

  My dad and Asher got up, leaving the two of us alone.

  He sat beside me, leaving enough of a space between us on the bench that I could tell he was being cautious. “Hey,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” I’d made sure Lance wasn’t invited after he showed up at my apartment and stirred up the drama with Chris. Him being here was several steps too far. Chris would probably think I’d invited Lance, and then—

  No. Chris wouldn’t think that. I remembered back to the times he’d had more than enough reason to assume the worst of me—like when the picture of Lance kissing me in the coffee shop surfaced. Chris had never assumed. He’d asked me, and he’d believed me.

  Lance interrupted my thoughts by trying to reach out and put his hand on my knee. I flinched back. He hesitated, then pulled his hand away, nodding. “I wanted to see you. You’re my best friend. You were, at least.”

  “Lance. You know how important it is for this wedding to go smoothly for me. How could you just show up here like this? Do you realize how it would look if anyone saw us even talking right now?”

  His jaw flexed. “I don’t care what they think. And I could take care of you, no matter what happens here. It’s what I should’ve been doing our whole lives, and I wish I’d realized it sooner. But I’m here now.”

  “And it’s not enough.” I got up, feeling a pit in my stomach. “I’m getting married today.”

  Lance got up too, taking a step toward me, which I mirrored in the opposite direction. “But it’s a crock of shit, Belle. Listen to yourself. What are you thinking is going to happen? You two will just keep playing pretend forever and live happily ever after?”

  “If we lived happily ever after, it wouldn’t matter whether it started out as a sham or not, would it?”

  He laughed; his face wrought with disbelief. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

  “For once, yeah. Maybe I’m listening to myself. You need to go. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, but I have to get ready for the ceremony, and I can’t have you here.”

  Lance’s hands were balled into fists. For a second, I thought he was about to reach for me. Instead, he nodded his head like he was confirming something to himself, then stalked off stiffly.

  I let out a long breath when he was gone.

  Why did it feel like I’d just passed through a crossroads in my life? And why was I still not sure what path I was walking?

  39

  Belle

  The wedding was, if I said so myself, absolutely breathtaking. I guessed I should’ve thought so, considering I’d wound up making every decision from the colors of the flowers to the type of chairs guests would sit in. I could thank Mindy for that.

  I’d wound up choosing a completely different dress than any of the ones I tried on for Chris. Considering it was supposed to just be pretend, I knew I was being silly, but I didn’t feel right wearing a dress he’d seen me in. Traditions still meant something to me, no matter how twisted the circumstances.

  It also hadn’t felt quite right to drape myself in a designer dress worth thousands and thousands of dollars. I’d instead gone to a normal, run of the mill bridal boutique and picked out a sensible but gorgeous dress. It was traditional, poufy, and made me feel like a damn princess, just like I�
�d always dreamed of.

  The guests—all one thousand and forty of them—were arranged on the green grass field just beyond the gardens. Behind the altar we’d had custom built by a team of carpenters, the view was an endless expanse of rolling green hills, puffy white clouds, and clear blue skies.

  I was standing in the gardens where I would wait until the music started. A tall hedge blocked me from the view of the guests, and I was still flanked by my bridesmaids. After the drama in Texas, most of my friendships had been put on hold or burned up all together. It meant the only bridesmaid I’d personally chosen was Val, who was giddily bouncing on her toes beside me in a pale blue dress. Chelsea and her friend Milly rounded out the group of bridesmaids, which was mostly to keep the numbers balanced.

  Chris had chosen his brother and two of his teammates as groomsmen. The three men stood a few feet away from us talking quietly about something. All three of them towered comically over us, like everything from Chris’ life, including himself, had to be super-sized.

  Val squeezed my hand. “You ready?”

  “That depends. Does ready feel like you’re about to throw up a little bit?”

  She let out a little squee, then gripped my hands harder. “Sounds ready to me!”

  I lowered my voice, leaning closer to her. “Let’s not forget this is just for show.”

  “Is it?” Val asked.

  I felt her question jab into me like a pinprick. Why would she ask that? She knew everything I knew about the deal and the arrangement. She was the one who had convinced me it was a good idea specifically because of the expiration date. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you both like each other. A lot. It’s obvious to anyone with functioning eyes. So why does it have to be pretend? Maybe it’s a little fast, but you guys could figure it out. I mean, what happens if two people who would otherwise be in a relationship get pushed into marriage a little fast? Do they break up because of it? No. That would be dumb. They just… ride it out.”

  I shook my head. “That’s—”

  The music signaling the bridesmaids and groomsmen to walk out started, and I was left with my father, who had been hanging back. He dutifully stepped up beside me and waited. “Do you think Chris would speak for me at political rallies?” he mused, almost to himself.

  I slid my eyes toward him. “Dad. Seriously?”

  With the hint of a smile, my dad chuckled. “That was a joke.”

  Wow. Jokes from my father. He must have really been in a good mood.

  And then the wedding march played.

  Here I come, bitches. I smiled to myself. God, I couldn’t believe this was happening. I shook the nerves out my hands, then stepped out from the hedge with my arm hooked in my father’s.

  The rest felt like it played on fast-forward. I felt thousands of faces watching me, practically glided down the aisle toward Chris, who was standing tall and proud with one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen on his face—and that was saying something.

  I took my place across from him, and it felt like everything else shrank away, like the world had suddenly condensed into a tight ball of existence where it was just me and Chris. I tried to write the sensation off by telling myself weddings were powerful things. It was built into us to put significance in this moment, to feel like our bodies were electrically charged.

  Except I wasn’t sure anymore.

  I wasn’t sure I didn’t want this to be more, but the idea was so embarrassingly crazy I was still afraid to take a firm hold of it and embrace it. So I let it linger there in the shadow of my thoughts where it seemed to sit poised and ready to burst into the light.

  Before Chris took my hands, he discreetly made a curvy gesture in the air, eyed me up and down, then closed his eyes in mock satisfaction. He mouthed “wow,” then took my hands with a little wink.

  I dipped my chin, smiling. Well, I guess that meant he liked the dress.

  We reached the part where we were supposed to read our vows, and Chris pulled a crumpled, folded up piece of paper from his pocket. I noticed that it was adorably covered in scribbles, crossed out lines, and even a section where he appeared to have broken out some White-Out, then written back over it in his small, cramped handwriting.

  Chris cleared his throat. “I thought about starting my vows by looking on the internet for what wedding vows are supposed to sound like. Then I realized that one, I was too lazy. Two, I figured it couldn’t be that complicated. A vow is a promise, so I just wrote down some things I wanted to promise you, Belle.”

  He’d been speaking without looking at his paper, and when he said my name, I felt an unexpected rush of warmth spread through me.

  Chris looked down at his paper, fidgeting a little on his feet, glancing up at me, then back at his paper. He cleared his throat again, then licked his lips. “I vow to wife you so hard that we’ll need to take you to a doctor to have your back checked out afterwards.”

  I gave him a puzzled look, then he mouthed “sex” to me. I rolled my eyes, smiling as he continued.

  “I vow to do all the shit husbands normally stop doing because they take their wives for granted. Like taking out the trash, and if I don’t do it, I’ll hire someone to do it, so you don’t have to.”

  “So honorable,” I said quietly enough that only he could hear.

  With a little smirk, he kept reading. “And I vow to leave you satisfied every single night. And by that, I mean I vow to return the favor, if you know what I mean. And well, I’m saying I’ll make sure you are—”

  I knuckled him in the stomach, giving him a sharp look. “Got it, Chris. You don’t have to spell it out.”

  He nodded, then looked at his list again. This time, I thought his hand started to shake a little. “And, well. None of those other vows really matter much. Not as much as this last one. Because I know I can promise to do all that other shit because I love you. And I know, uh, sometimes people act like marriage doesn’t matter. Some people even say it’s a joke or… a fantasy. But I don’t want ours to be like that. I just want you to know that this can be as real as you want it to be, Belle. Because I vow to love the shit out of you since I don’t think I really have a choice in the matter.”

  I stood there feeling dumbstruck. Chris’ hands had been shaking slightly, and he folded the note back up to shove it in his pocket. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet mine.

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I whispered.

  Chris nodded.

  The officiant gave me a slight nod. “If the bride would like to present her vows now.”

  I felt stupid. I’d written some of my own, but they were nowhere near as earth shattering as Chris’ had been. I’d imagined his would be full of jokes and that I’d look like an idiot if I took them too seriously. “That’s okay,” I said. “He can read them later.”

  There was a nervous chuckle from the audience, which I realized with a surprised jolt was still there. I’d been so absorbed in the moment that I’d forgotten we were practically on stage for the world to see.

  Chris narrowed his eyes but was wearing a half smile. I had a feeling he was going to make me cough up my vows sooner, rather than later, but I could live with that.

  “Then if anyone should object to this marriage, may they speak now or forever hold their peace.”

  There was a brief pause, then a loud voice called out. “Belle!”

  A thousand heads turned at the same moment. Lance was walking slowly down the aisle toward us, eyes pleadingly fixed on me.

  “Turtleneck,” Chris hissed under his breath. Then he put his hand to his mouth, eyes going slightly wide. “I’ve kind of always dreamed someone would dramatically speak up at this part of a wedding I went to. I just never thought it’d be mine.”

  “Don’t do this. You don’t have to.”

  No, I didn’t have to. And Chris’ vows were still circulating in my head, helping all the doubts and fears I’d had organize themselves into something I could finall
y make sense of.

  Two choices had been laid out for me ever since Lance came back and professed his feelings for me. Just like most things in life, there had been the easy, safe choice. That was Lance. He was a known commodity. He was successful, he’d probably settle down and give me the kind of life most women would be happy to have. We’d have a 401k, a nice house, two point five kids, and we’d go to ballet recitals. He’d kiss me on the cheek before he left for work and tell me he loved me most days.

  It would be safe.

  And then there was the other choice. It was the one I’d spent my whole life avoiding. The unknown commodity. The risky decision that required sacrifice to pursue. It was the one I’d spent so long ignoring that my brain hardly even saw it as a real option anymore. It was selling your business to chase your dream of living on a boat or quitting school to pursue a career as a writer. It was the wild, you’re crazy to do this, choice.

  And that choice was Chris.

  Lance was sticking that one last ledge out for me. I was about to step over the ledge—or maybe I already had. Lance’s offer was a handhold I could cling to for dear life. I could still change my mind and run away from all of this screaming at the top of my lungs.

  But I didn’t want to.

  I felt it so powerfully that it scared me. I didn’t want the safe choice. I didn’t want Lance. I didn’t want anything except to curl up in those promises Chris just made and make my new life there.

  With him.

  I wanted Chris, because even if it was crazy, I did love him. I loved him so much I’d been scared to admit it even to myself, because it was the kind of love that made people irrational.

  “You don’t have to,” Lance said again. He was closer now and drawing about a thousand dirty looks from the audience.

  “I do, because I love him,” I said. I looked Chris in the eyes. “And I want him to be my forever. My happily ever after. My—”