My Big Fat Fake Engagement

by Landish, Lauren

  “Ross,” I say dryly, not fooled by his silly distraction. “You think he doesn’t know I’m here? That I came to knock some sense into you? I think his exact words were, ‘Go get him, Sis.’ ”

  Kaede doesn’t look convinced.

  “He thought it was just a sex thing and didn’t realize that I love you. Well, I think he knew that part all along. He just didn’t know you love me too. And that made all the difference. He’s probably going to claim credit for us at this point, be all ‘I introduced them’ and shit.” My imitation of my brother’s voice isn’t that great, but Kaede gets the point.

  We laugh, knowing it’s probably true.

  “So, now what?”

  “Well, Ross will want to talk with you about the Sanders stuff, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

  Kaede shakes his head. “Not what I meant. I mean, now what, tonight . . . for us?”

  I stand up, pulling him slowly to his feet. “Now, you go take a hot shower and relax those sore muscles. I’m going to make you nachos, assuming you have that stuff in the kitchen, and then we’re going to eat in bed so you can fall right to sleep.”

  He takes my hand, pulling me toward the bedroom, which is the opposite direction of the kitchen. “I have a better idea. You take a nice, long shower with me, and then we go to bed and make love again.”

  “Ooh, I like the way that sounds. One question.” I hold up a finger. “Can we have nachos after round two? Because I’ve been craving them ever since you told me about them.”

  Kaede laughs and nods. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 28

  Kaede

  “You sure about this?” Ross asks, eyeing me carefully.

  I nod. “Yes. I’m furious, and my instinct is to go balls to the wall on Sanders, slashing and burning as we go. But that’s not the smart move. Your way is better, and no, I won’t repeat that so you can record it.”

  Ross grins. “While I appreciate the vote of confidence, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you two.”

  Ross inclines his head, gesturing to Courtney, who’s helping Violet cook dinner. By ‘help’, I mean she’s standing in the kitchen and sipping on a glass of wine. Violet would never let anyone actually touch her food or get close enough to figure out Nana’s recipes.

  I look to my left, finding that Courtney has clued in to our conversation. She meets my eyes, and I see no doubts. There’s only love in her eyes. One life, one love, one Courtney.

  “I love her.” Though I’m telling Ross, my eyes never leave hers and she knows I’m talking to her.

  “I love him.” I know the same thing as she reassures her brother from across the room. “So shut the fuck up about it. It’s nun-ya, as in nun-ya-bizness.”

  Violet sniffles, on the verge of tears again, and I hear her whisper, “So sweet.” She’s not talking about the lasagna.

  Ross throws his hands up, looking to the heavens. “Finally! But that’s it? All this fucking grief, and I can’t even get ‘she had me at hello’ or details or something?”

  I chuckle, but I’m scanning him for any sign of doubt, of anger, silently checking to see if he’s really good with us.

  He sees me, knowing me just as well as I know him. “If I haven’t been clear enough with you yet, it’s simple. I’ve got two sisters . . . and one brother.”

  That might sound a little weird given that I’m sleeping with his sister and he just called me his brother, but I get his meaning. We’re family, always have been.

  Ross walks toward me, and I meet him halfway, hugging him. No bro hug, none of that one-arm, slap on the back bullshit. This is a hug, and there’s no shame in it.

  Because he is my brother.

  No doubts, no nerves, no insecurities. They simply fade into the mist. Not completely gone, because they’re more about my own internal insecurities, but I think with Courtney by my side, I’m going to always feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. And if the doubts return and the questions in my mind get loud, I know Court and Ross will help me through them because we can talk about this stuff now. That’s what family does—help one another. Either that or kick each other’s ass, but I think the result would be the same . . . that I feel accepted. Loved.

  Enough.

  “I don’t know anyone else good enough for my baby sister,” Ross says, as emotional about this as I am.

  “Hey, I’m getting in on this action,” Courtney says, and suddenly, our hug becomes a three-way.

  “Take care of my boy, Court,” he tells her, and I can’t help but smile.

  Ross has always been a pivot point for us, the one who brought us together, and in a way, the one who kept us apart. But now that I know he’s not just okay with me and Court but is actually happy for us, it’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. No, like a truck, because that fucker was heavy.

  Violet joins in too. “Don’t make me cry. I don’t have time for lasagna and redoing my makeup.”

  Courtney reaches to a bowl on the counter and unwraps a piece of chocolate. “Open.” Violet does as commanded and eats the candy with that wiggle of happiness all women do when you feed them good food.

  “Just to be clear . . . we’re not telling Archie that you’re my brother,” Ross says as Violet heads back to her lasagna.

  “Agreed.”

  We fist bump on that, and I draw us back to the issue of the evening. “Let’s go over everything again. One more time.”

  And we do, discussing our meeting with Morgan, our plan with all the various chess pieces and how they might move, and what our returning play will be.

  Facing Morgan Andrews with this whole fake engagement thing had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I fully expected him to walk over to the twin swords he keeps on the walls of his library, pull one off, and try to gut me with it. But instead, he’d welcomed me with a smile. He didn’t even let me apologize but just sat me down and told me a story. He talked about the importance of family and mistakes he made as both a businessman and a father, but how it’s how he moved on from them that made all the difference. I’ve heard about these. Ross used to complain about them, but I know what this one meant. It was Morgan’s way of officially welcoming me to the family. He even called me son and poured us glasses of his reserve whiskey.

  It’s not official, though. Not yet. But soon, it will be . . . for real.

  * * *

  “This is lovely. Thank you for the invitation,” Jeffrey says as he comes in the door to Ross’s penthouse home.

  Tonight’s a special night, with Jeffrey and Missy joining Ross, Violet, Courtney, and myself for what could end up being a very interesting dinner. It’s our plan to return the favor of his invitation and perhaps the surprise reveal as well.

  Let’s just say there’s a reason that the place settings only have butter knives tonight. No sharps mean no blood. At least literally. Metaphorically, tonight is going to be an absolute, utter bloodbath.

  “Only seemed fair to return the favor,” Ross says as he takes Missy’s purse and hangs it on the coat rack. “And thanks for clearing your calendars on such short notice.”

  That’s one way to put it. The event and Jeffrey’s surprise were on Saturday. Saturday night and half of Sunday were spent making love with Courtney and talking things through between us. Sunday afternoon was the meeting with Morgan to discuss options and planning, with Ross gratefully accepting some guidance from his dad. And only yesterday did we extend the invitation to Jeffrey and Missy.

  In the last three days, my entire world has been thrown in the washer on spin, but instead of dizzy, I feel in control for the first time in a long time.

  “My, something smells delicious,” Jeffrey says as he comes in. “I don’t think I’ve smelled Italian this good since I had dinner at Massimo Bottura’s.” Instead of sounding complimentary, it seems like a way to name drop the fancy restaurant.

  “Thank you,” Violet says politely from the kitchen as she pours wine for everyone. “Or I sho
uld say, my Nana thanks you since this is her secret recipe. I just hope I did it justice, though the presentation won’t have the panache of Chef Massimo’s.” I forget sometimes how smooth Violet is, accustomed to dealing with her clients and their idiosyncrasies. But I’m reminded when she handles Jeffrey with ease once again.

  “I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.” Jeffrey looks at Missy expectantly.

  “Yeah . . . smells good,” Missy says, obviously confused. She thinks she positioned her father perfectly, that she’s done enough to create drama and tear us apart . . . but then, why are we all smiles?

  Patience, Kaede. Don’t get cocky too soon.

  We settle in the living room, each of us with a glass of wine, though Violet has a wine glass of a low-sugar juice blend she recently discovered on a pregnancy forum. She drinks it by the bottleful now.

  Jeffrey raises his glass for a toast. In Ross’s home, which irritates the hell out of me because even I know that’s a faux pas in Ross’s world. “A toast to new partners and family.” Jeffrey smiles and tips his glass back. “Ah, lovely vintage.”

  “About Saturday,” Ross begins.

  Jeffrey nods. “Quite the successful event, I think.”

  Ross doesn’t agree or disagree but continues on his own one-track mind, playing each step as we planned. “It was an exceptional success, though I was surprised that you mentioned Violet and Courtney when we’d specifically said not to.”

  I see the surprise on Jeffrey’s face and watch as his eyes tick to Missy and her brow lifts ever so slightly as she nearly imperceptibly shakes her head. It’s subtle, silent, and nearly instantaneous.

  “Oh, dear. My sincerest apologies to you all then. I . . . well, I must have misunderstood. My mouth got carried away with all the excitement. I was so happy to see the One Life family and hopeful that we can grow into one family ourselves. I do hope you’ll accept my apology. If there’s anything I can do, please say the word. A bottle of champagne, perhaps? Melissa will send one tomorrow as the smallest token of my regret for any unintended consequences.”

  It’s a smooth apology, just humble and sheepish enough that most people would buy it. Especially partnered with a promise of an expensive apology gift.

  We are not most people. It rather sounds like he’s accustomed to buying his way into and out of situations without having to actually be sorry in the slightest.

  Though, I am surprised by how quickly he assessed that he had been given incorrect information, changed direction, and readily took the blame for the situation that Missy had cornered him into.

  I file that away in a mental file drawer labeled Jeffrey Sanders Psychology for any future needs. Missy is his weak point. The father protecting the daughter.

  Missy’s jaw clenches as Jeffrey apologizes and assigns her champagne-shipping duty dismissively.

  It’s still a little too slick for my taste, but Courtney and Violet accept the apology, as do Ross and I. It’s only the opening act of tonight’s theatrical performance, but so far, we’re on track to bring the house down.

  “What’s done is done,” Violet says lightly as she gets up. “There’s no going back now, is there? And I do think that timer means the lasagna is ready. Please, let’s move this to the dining table.”

  We move to the table as instructed, with Violet refusing any assistance. She shoots Ross a wink, and I know she’s got her own plan.

  She plates the lasagna in the kitchen, in full view of us, as she tells us about the first time she made this recipe with Nana.

  “It was quite the honor to be entrusted with the layering of the ingredients, even more so to actually season the meat sauce, especially since the debate over the proper amount of salt has resulted in bloodshed a time or two. By the time I was sixteen, I was allowed to assist with every stage and that was the best lasagna I’d ever eaten. I hope this lives up to it.”

  She’s charming, the penultimate host, which makes her next move all that more sweetly cutting. She brings a perfectly plated square of lasagna to Ross at the head of the table and sets one in front of me at the same time. Showing some waitressing skills I didn’t know she had, or more likely from having a huge family pile around the table at once, she returns with three plates, two on one arm and the other in her opposite hand. She sets one in front of Courtney, one in front of Jeffrey, and the other at her place setting.

  “Oops, one more,” she says, laughing at herself. The true message? You are so forgettable, Missy. I think Violet’s been taking lessons from Courtney on how to cut a bitch without breaking a sweat. She returns once more with a plate of lasagna that’s slightly fallen over, or my money’s on it being pushed over. “Sorry, that one fell. Still tastes good, though.”

  Missy smiles tightly. Point—Violet.

  Ross raises his glass, offering the toast that is his to make as host. “To discovering what’s important in life—family.”

  “To family,” we all chime in, sipping before we dig into Violet’s delicious lasagna.

  Even Missy can’t resist the power of Violet’s Nana and her lasagna. Sure, she picks at it at first, trying to restrain herself, but soon enough, she’s digging in, almost scarfing it down like the rest of us.

  “I hate to mix business into this wonderful feast,” Ross says as he breaks a piece of garlic bread, “but while we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a phone call I had with the contractor. When he heard about your concerns on price, he said he’d be more than willing to be flexible. There are a lot of workers in Charlotte who are ready to work, and economy of scale comes into play quickly, cutting our labor costs.”

  “I like it, but I still want a full comparison of the options, especially if we can use one bid against another to increase our bottom line. That will help us as we move forward as well, seeing how everything fits in after Charlotte.”

  Jeffrey doesn’t sound like he’s consulting with us. No, it sounds like a boss telling his underlings what to do. But that’s not what our arrangement is about. One Life isn’t Jeffrey’s baby, and we’re not the babysitters. But it doesn’t matter. This is just the build-up to get Jeffrey where we want him conversationally.

  “I think it’s a good idea for us to discuss the post-Charlotte plans too,” Ross says.

  Missy stiffens slightly, her fork glancing off her plate as she cuts another bite of lasagna. Jeffrey, however, remains serene . . . or maybe it’s just oblivious. “I appreciate a man with vision, always looking to the next thing and planning. Charlotte’s barely underway and you’re raring to go for the next. Exciting, isn’t it?”

  Jeffrey seems to think he’s found some camaraderie in Ross with this. He couldn’t be more wrong.

  Ross ignores the inquiry, taking the conversation exactly where he wants to go, exactly where we plotted out together. “Are you aware that I’m still a stockholder and silent consultant at Andrews Consolidated?”

  Jeffrey nods, sipping his drink. “Of course. I’d expect nothing less. It’s your family’s company and you were there for years. My understanding is the point of our partnership is to step away from that? Make your own name, so to speak.”

  “It is,” Ross agrees steadily, his voice almost musing in its quality. “I could have, of course, gone to my father or gone straight to the company and gotten their funding. After all, they have similar connections to yours. But we chose you instead. However, as I said, I have a stake in all my family’s potential investments, both personal and professional.”

  Jeffrey’s starting to look a little confused as to why our conversation’s taken this turn, but next to him, Missy’s practically squirming like a third grader who really, really, really needs to go pee during class.

  Perfect.

  I take over, ready to drive our point home. “So Ross and I were both surprised—no, almost shocked—when Morgan informed us of a particularly interesting opportunity he’s been pitched. It seems he’s been offered a ground-floor investment option in a new gym conglomerate. One that looks amazingly similar to On
e Life Gym. Similar designs, similar proposed locations, similar business plan.”

  Jeffrey’s brows knit together. “What? How? Do you think someone’s going to beat us to market?” He’s playing dumb, but he’s a slick businessman, we all know that. The question is . . . is he truly unaware? Or is he slyly pulling the rug out from underneath us?

  I push past the touchdown zone, needing to see his authentic reaction up close to evaluate it. “As shareholders, Ross and I were able to look at the proposal and the names involved. UniLife Fitness, registered by Melissa Tillman.”

  Now that’s how you throw a pipe bomb.

  Jeffrey’s jaw drops as he turns to his daughter. But before he can say anything, Missy throws her hands up, her eyes big and doe-like. “Daddy, I can explain!”

  “Then you’d better do it right now, young lady,” he booms.

  Missy’s face crumbles and the first crocodile tears start to fall. I’ll give this to her—either she’s a damn good actress or she’s actually upset at getting caught like this.

  “Well?” he says, even louder.

  Her lips thin, and she glares at her father after a moment. “That! That’s why! I’m smart, smarter than these two idiots! They strut around the gym like they know so much, do so much, thinking they’re better than me. I could do it so much better. We have the contract to do Charlotte, but after that, we can take it over. I can take it over and it’ll be mine.”

  Jeffrey looks genuinely horrified as the true level of his daughter’s betrayal slowly dawns on him. If he’s acting, he’s damn good. Like Broadway star good. Like shelf full of Oscar awards good.

  Like . . . I believe him good.

  “What? You . . . you went to Morgan Andrews?” Jeffrey’s voice contains a thread of hurt, probably never considering that the one thing his daughter would ever want is someone else’s money.

  Missy’s defiant now, her eyes glittering like cheap costume jewelry as she nods furiously. “I knew you wouldn’t let me do it. You can pay for me to go to college, you can pay for me to even get an MBA, but the most you let me do is go undercover because no one would ever think I actually have a brain. Not even you. So I figured out a way to do it on my own. First, with Kaede . . . though that didn’t work. And then, I went to Morgan Andrews.”