My Big Fat Fake Engagement

by Landish, Lauren

  “What’s going on, Abi?” I ask, adjusting Carly in my arms. “You’re stressing way too much over this.”

  “Oh, work stress, I guess,” Abi admits. “You know how that is. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s a moving target. I’m working my ass off to get the last of the business loans paid off soon. I can almost taste it. Soon, it’ll be all mine, free and clear. And that’s so exciting, like a weight off my shoulders, but it’s a little scary too.”

  “You’re a fu—a superstar,” I tell her, quickly editing myself. Little ears and all. “I admire what you’ve accomplished and that you did it all without any of our family’s money, on your own two feet. You are a total badass.” I mouth the last word so I’m not a potty-mouth influence on Carly.

  “Thanks, Court.”

  Abi’s words are right, but she still looks exhausted. I don’t get a chance to ask her any more questions because the door to my room opens and Mom comes in, Violet right behind her. Violet nearly runs over Mom. “It’s okay, Carly. Mommy’s here!”

  Abi, Mom, and I look at each other, fighting back giggles. Violet makes it seem like Carly is having a meltdown, but she’s chilling happily in my arms. It’s Violet who’s going through baby withdrawal.

  Carly gets passed over, and as Vi coos with her daughter, Mom helps me with my final zip-in to my wedding dress. “You look so gorgeous, honey. And just between you and me, I’m glad you and Kaede decided to keep the wedding small, not like your brother’s.”

  She huffs, remembering the craziness of Ross’s wedding, but the smile breaks through because how can you top that?

  “Okay, let’s do the list since you love checklists so much,” Abi says. “Something old?”

  I touch the ivory comb in my hair, one passed down from Grandma to Mom and now me. “Check.”

  “New?”

  I pat my hip, touching the brand-new white lace panties that are part of the lingerie set that is going to blow Kaede’s mind tonight.

  “Borrowed?”

  I touch the ring on the middle finger of my right hand, knowing how much it means. “Donna let me borrow her wedding band from when she married Kaede’s father. It’s a way for him to be here for Kaede, to honor how much he loved Donna and his son.”

  “Oh, that’s . . .” Mom starts to speak but sniffles instead. “Excuse me.” She turns away, and Violet hands her a white chocolate candy, eating one herself too.

  “And blue,” I confirm, lifting the hem of my dress and my right foot to show off the pale blue soles of my bridal heels. “Checklist complete. I’m just ready to be Mrs. Courtney Andrews-McWarren.”

  Yeah, I’m hyphenating. Kaede and I talked about it, and he suggested it first. I’ve worked my ass off to be more than my last name, but the truth is, I’m the next generation at Andrews, and I want to honor Dad’s work for the company by carrying it on as an Andrews. Kaede had more than understood, and was in fact really proud of how far I’ve come with making peace with my name and what it stands for. I am too.

  We go downstairs, and I wait by the doors, watching Vi and then Abi disappear through them to walk down the ad hoc aisle in their floaty blush-pink dresses.

  It’ll be my turn next, and I hold Dad’s elbow proudly. We pause at the door, and Dad gives me a kiss. “So, what’s up in Courtlandia?” he teases, though his voice is a little rough.

  I smile, appreciating that more than he’ll ever know. “Oh, a little of this, a little of that. You know how it is.”

  He smiles, though he’s looking a bit teary. “I’m proud of you, Courtney, and I . . .”

  He gets a little choked up, and I jump in to save him and my makeup. “Thank you, Dad.”

  “Let me finish. I have always been proud of you, my little chip off the old block. You have this way of seeing the best in everyone around you, and then you work your internal beep-boop-beep analyzing magic and learn from it in a way not many can. You morph people’s best into something even better and send that into the world. You’ve done it at work for years, but I’m most proud to see you do it with that man waiting for you at the end of the aisle. He’s a good man, and I’m proud of you for seeing it and following your heart. Listen to it, honey. Your heart will never lead you wrong. Except at work—all brains there.”

  The tears that were threatening to flow are kept back, just barely, by the small laugh at Dad’s parting words. I think he’s done as much ‘feeling’ for the day as he can.

  And he’s right. I am more like him than maybe I ever realized, but I’ve got a lot of Mom in me too, and I’ve seen how she handles Dad when he gets lost in his facts and figures. If Kaede and I can both do that for each other, I think we’ll be just fine.

  We go down the aisle to the instrumental strains of Again, probably the most beautiful Janet Jackson song ever, and the small crowd of thirty people all stand for us. Donna and Earl are on the front row of Kaede’s side, and behind them are several people from One Life—Stacylynne, Kayla, and AJ. On the left side, Jillian and Archie are sitting together, sobbing openly, and Archie’s boyfriend is stoically handing out tissues like Tic Tacs. Jillian’s husband seems grateful.

  Most important, though, is Kaede, who looks nervous as I join him in front of the fireplace we’re using as an altar. Erica had nearly orgasmed when I told her that we were having a winter wedding in front of a roaring fire, deeming it ‘glorious’. Now, I can see what she meant as the orange of the flames dance, the tiny white lights sparkle, and the flowers add a touch of softness.

  Kaede swallows thickly. “Did you think I was going to run on you?” I whisper, smiling. “They’ve been holding me back from trying to get to you sooner.”

  “You look beautiful, Court. And no . . . I just totally forgot my lines,” Kaede whispers back. “I’m blanking.”

  “Use the notecard in your jacket pocket,” I say with a smile, having thought of everything. Well, that was actually Erica’s tip because apparently, freezing when the moment hits is pretty common.

  “I love how smart you are.” I’m not going to correct him this time.

  The ceremony starts, and everything’s running smoothly. When it’s time for vows, Kaede reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small-font version of the vows he worked on for weeks.

  “You’re the best,” he says, and everyone titters. He starts to read, “Courtney, I fell in love with you years ago, before I even really knew you. And through fate, karma, design, or whatever you call it . . . we, two of the most guarded people, managed to let down our defenses and get to know each other for who we truly are. And that is when I truly fell in love with the woman you are inside.”

  He pauses, trying to blink away the tears. He laughs. “I can’t see to read.”

  “Just say your heart,” I assure him, taking his hand. “Because that’s all that matters.”

  He clears his throat and looks at me with those dark eyes and suddenly smiles peacefully.

  “We’re analysts. We both are. My life’s been lived by numbers, crunching data and working it until I find a path to my goal. But how do you analyze a woman? How do I calculate the love in my heart when I look into your eyes? How do I turn the excitement I feel for tackling the future with you into a spreadsheet? I don’t know. If you do, please tell me know.”

  I smile, shaking my head.

  “All I know is that I would move heaven and earth just to be close to you. I would take on the gods above and the demons below to keep you safe and happy. And I will do my best to love you the way you deserve to be loved . . . fiercely, fully, and . . . something else that starts with an f. I’m not sure where I was going there, so I’ll . . . I’ll shut up now. I just . . . I love you.”

  “And that’s why I do the speeches,” Ross mutters under his breath, earning a few laughs, but I’m not laughing. I’m crying big, happy tears as I grab Kaede by his lapels and pull him in for a kiss.

  Behind me, I hear Abi hiss, “We’re not at that part yet. You’re wrecking the plan.”

>   Fuck the plan.

  I’ve got Kaede.

  And that’s all I need.

  Kaede

  “Courtney, I think that wedding’s going to be told in our family’s history for . . . generations, at least,” Mom says, sipping her flute of champagne. “A beautiful bride, a perfect setting . . . and my son stumbling through the goofiest set of vows in history before you top him by jumping the gun on the kiss.”

  “Hey, he’s got a kissable face,” Courtney teases, smooshing my cheeks between her hands and kissing the fishy lips she’s created.

  “Oh, he is that. I used to tell him I was going to gobble those cheeks up,” Mom says, laughing as I blush. “Congratulations again, kids.”

  I hug Mom, looking over her shoulder to see Earl talking to Ross and Morgan Andrews. Or Dad now, I guess . . . it’ll be nice to have one again. But what catches my eye is the way Earl looks over at Mom, adjusting his tie, and a suspicion grows in my mind. Maybe I’ll have a father-in-law and a stepdad soon. I’m going from no dad to two.

  I take Courtney’s hand, touching the gold band on her right hand. I don’t remember my dad, not really, but I’m glad that he loved Mom well enough that she has hope in her heart to risk loving again. Even if Earl comes with gross, but funny, stories about shit.

  Erica’s staff has switched the great room around quickly while we sip cocktails in the parlor, and after only a few minutes, she gestures us all back in. We elected to skip the whole announcement running in thing because it seemed silly when we just saw these people.

  But we do move back to the area in front of the fireplace. The DJ in the corner plays the song for our first dance . . . or he’s supposed to, at least. But what comes out is a Backstreet Boys song.

  I start to go over, but Courtney catches my hand. “Erica’s got it. We’ll do our dance for the next one.” Louder, she says, “We’ll try that again, but for now, everybody up. Let’s dance!”

  Nobody is going to tell Courtney fucking Andrews-McWarren no, so people get out of their chairs and sway back and forth awkwardly. Everyone joins in, even baby Charlotte, or Carly, as everyone insists on calling her. She dances with Archie and his boyfriend, who are both holding one of her hands as they coo and smile at her. Archie’s already threatened to fight for the bouquet, quite taken with his boyfriend, but my money’s on Kayla. She’s feisty. AJ’s got his hands full with that one.

  We dance a few songs, and eventually our first couple dance as man and wife. I think it’s song four by the time the DJ gets it right, but I’m too happy and caught up in Courtney to even care.

  “Okay, okay,” Abi says as we all sit down for the toasts before the cake gets cut and the bouquet gets tossed, “Don’t make this a big deal. Because it’s not. I have to ask—for a friend, mind you—which side of the family tree is he from?”

  We all look to where she’s pointing as a group, completely obvious. I see a man carefully examining the buffet table. He’s got dark hair, olive skin, and judging from the tattoos I can see peeking out of his collared shirt, a streak of bad boy in him a mile wide. Something about him screams danger, which is like catnip to Abi.

  I’m about to tease Abi about her questionable taste in men when Vi raises her hand. “Oh, me! That’s my cousin, Lorenzo. He just moved here from Sicily. He was recruited to be the chef at a new restaurant, and I brought him with me because he doesn’t know anyone yet. I figured I’d introduce him to your family first because mine is more . . . more.” That’s putting it mildly. Vi’s family is loud, crazy, and argues as entertainment. Did I mention loud?

  Oh, shit. I can see it on Abi’s face from second one as she grins. She’s in lust. “New in town, you say? Well, I might just—”

  “Not give details until Carly’s asleep,” Ross says, a hint of his old protectiveness in his voice. I get it. I feel like I’ve adopted Abi as my sister too. Seeing me with Courtney is one thing. Ross has known me for half our lives. But this new guy?

  I’m not saying no, yet. I need to gather some data on him before I can say that for sure. But in the meantime, no.

  “Hmmph.” Abi pouts. “If that’s how you’re gonna be, then I’ll be the one to make sure he gets a warm welcome to town,” Abi says, making all of us wince. “Toodles. Don’t wait up.”

  “Like anyone would wait up for her,” Archie says, bouncing Carly on his lap and tempting the spit-up fates. “Vi, she’s so cute it makes me rethink the whole parenting thing. Where can I get one of my own?”

  “I’m sure there’s a website where you can put in an order,” Vi jokes, carefully taking Carly from Archie, “but I think I’ll hold onto her just in case.”

  “If you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time to cut the cake,” I tell everyone, taking Courtney’s hand.

  “With sprinkles!” she announces, as if we don’t already know that was the only thing she asked for with the cake. Erica had tried to talk her out of it, suggesting delicate flowers or icing details, but it’d been no use. She did allow for white chocolate sprinkles, though, so that the wedding cake would be white.

  As we go up to the table, she leans into my arm, smiling happily.

  “I think our life is going to be filled with love and family,” she whispers to me.

  We pick up the knife, and I look into her eyes. “I can live with that. You ready?”

  “I am.”

  Me too. Ready for cake . . . and the rest of our lives.

  Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Kaede and Courtney’s story. If you want more of these two and the rest of the gang, make sure to check out My Big Fat Fake Wedding! (Ross and Violet’s book). Get it here, or read on for a preview.

  Excerpt: My Big Fat Fake Wedding

  Violet—Five Months Ago

  This can’t be happening. He can’t be leaving me.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  My heels click across the hospital floor as I race down the hallway. I’m in such a panic, the words blaring over the PA system hardly register from the blood rushing through my ears in a dull roar.

  “Code blue, room four! Code blue, room four!”

  I nearly trip over my own feet as I break into a shuffling run, boomeranging for the nearest patient room. I swear my heart is going to explode when I spot the correct door and burst inside to see . . .

  “Nana!” I exclaim as I see my grandmother, Angela Russo. She looks up from where she’s hovering like a hen over my grandfather. The scowl on her face highlights the parentheses of wrinkles around her lips, making her worry immediately apparent.

  My grandfather, Stefano, looks up at me, his unusually pale face widening into a huge smile. But even with the happiness blooming, I can tell he’s worn out, aged decades in the short time since I last saw him.

  “My beautiful little flower, Violet!” he sings, his Italian accent coming through as he holds his arms out to me. “I knew you would come. Come here so I can give you a kiss!”

  “Oh, Papa, I was so scared!” I say, rushing into his arms and collapsing into a ball of relief. “I dropped everything and came as soon as I heard.”

  Papa looks over at Nana with a triumphant wink of his eye as he rubs my shoulders. “See, Angie? This one loves me the most. Do you see any of our other granddaughters here?”

  “That’s because you’ve scared them all away with your crazy stories,” Nana growls, but there’s an undercurrent of affection for the man who is both a thorn in her side and her everything.

  Papa laughs and squeezes me with a fierce strength that belies his shrinking frame, raining kisses down upon my forehead. I feel comforted, enveloped in his familiar scent, leather and spicy meats . . . masculine and comforting. For a moment, I forget the direness of the situation as he rocks me back and forth in his arms like I’m a child or the one in need of comfort, though he’s the one in the hospital bed.

  But the moment is fleeting as reality slams back into me, and I rise to my feet to ask Nana in a rush of words, “What happened? Is he going to be okay? Ho
w long has he been like this?”

  “The old fool was working out back in the summer heat after I told him he should take it easy and come inside,” Nana says with a frosty scowl at Papa, but her voice softens as she speaks, revealing how frightened she really is. “I found him lying face down in the dirt.”

  “Papa!” I say in admonishment. “You know you’re not supposed to be taking on a heavy workload, doctor’s orders. Why didn’t you listen to Nana?”

  Grandpa waves away my worry with a bony hand. “I don’t see what the fuss’s all about. A man has to work, and I’ll do what I need to until the day they put me six feet under. I just tripped and had a little fall, that’s all.” He says it like he believes that to be the truth.

  Nana gives me a sour look that says, ‘That’s definitely not what happened.’ “He passed out—” she begins.

  “I fell and was getting up before you came squawking like a worried hen, making things worse,” Papa interrupts. “So, I decided to lie back and let you do what you were going to do. You shoulda done the same for me.”

  “Nonsense!” Nana snaps. “If I hadn’t found you, who knows what would’ve happened?”

  “Nothing.” Papa dismisses Nana with a nonchalant shrug. “I’d be fine, maybe about to pass out from eating some of your overcooked pasta—”

  “Why, you old bast—”

  “Bah! Hush, woman, you worry too much. I’m more likely to drop dead from all of your hen clucking than I will from a little heat.”

  Their bickering is comforting in a twisted way, the camaraderie of being together for decades and knowing which buttons to push to get a rise out of each other but also which ones are entirely off limits.

  He pulls a long cigar out from the side of his bed and offers it to her. “Here. Calm yourself and have a stogie.” The shit-eating grin on his face says he knows he’s poking the bear, and I realize he’s giving her something to focus on besides worrying about him. He’s a slick old fox, I’ll give him that.