Betzy’s phone buzzed with a reply just as the host made his way to her. Quickly, she ordered the brie cheese wedge with tomato bisque and handed over the menu. A smile crossed her lips as she saw the name on the screen.
Sawyer: Me, your lunchtime topic? You don’t say. I’m flattered.
Betzy: Don’t be. Half of the party’s over the age of fifty.
Sawyer: All the more flattering.
Betzy: I guess you’re right. Have fun sleeping at night knowing that old women find you sexy.
Sawyer: I will. But the more important question is this: do YOU find me sexy?
Heat flared hot in her chest, neck, and face.
“Did he text you back?” Camila asked.
“Yeah,” Betzy said. “Here.” She tipped the phone so Camila could read the interaction herself.
“He’s a flirt,” she said with a grin.
“I know.” Another text popped up.
Sawyer: Is that crickets I hear chirping? C’mon, is it that hard to admit you’re attracted to me?
Betzy shook her head. “Incorrigible.” It took her a moment to think of a response, but at last, it came to her.
Betzy: I can admit that all sorts of men are sexy. It doesn’t mean they’re my type.
Sawyer: Women. Always so complicated.
A deep, happy sigh spilled through her lips as she looked at the screen. She enjoyed this. Would miss it once it was gone. Which it would be once Sawyer got serious with someone. It was probably the only way she’d really know he’d gotten into a relationship.
“Hey, look what’s coming in next month’s issue,” Rachel said, pointing at a spot on the back page. Betzy read it aloud as she went.
“From hard-working bachelorette to wealthy old spinster. Find out which billionaire bachelorettes are destined to hold onto their money while men slip through their fingers.”
A hush fell over the table.
A sick knot formed in Betzy’s stomach as she reread the title. “You are kidding me.”
She snatched the magazine from Rachel to see it up close and personal. “I bet you anything I’m on that list.”
“You’re in your twenties,” Grandma countered, but that crease along her brow said she was concerned just the same.
“It doesn’t say she’s already a spinster,” her mom said, “just that she’s destined to become one.”
Grandma and Mom exchanged a worried glance.
“Who else do we know that works for Slipper?” Mom asked. “We need to know if she’s on that list.”
Betzy turned her eyes on Grandma next. “Anyone? Think.”
Grandma gritted her teeth and snatched her phone from her purse. “I’ll ask around. Don’t you worry, dear. I doubt they would ever put you on a list like that.”
Mom locked eyes with Betzy across the table, her lips pursed in concentration. After all of Mom’s warnings that Betzy might end up alone if she pursued a career, there wasn’t a hint of I-told-you-so in her gaze.
Claudia Benton knew how to play that mama bear role as well as the rest of them, especially when it was to protect the family name.
Betzy imagined the humiliation that might come of it—an appearance in an article that said she was destined to be old and all alone. The very fear that had haunted Betzy since she was a little girl.
Grandma and all of her gumption had given her the courage to compete in the business world with the best of the best and make a name for herself, despite her mother’s warning.
The trouble was, that warning might just hold true. A knot of burning heat stirred in her gut.
She would definitely be on that list. And she could guess at who’s idea it’d been to put her there: Daisy Shay’s.
Camila gave her a tap on the arm and leaned in. “Hey, James is heading out of town with Zander later today. Why don’t you come over? We’ll come up with a plan to combat the article just in case, and you can fill me in on your history with this sexy bachelor. Oh, and of course, we’ll eat something amazing.”
Camila wasn’t just saying that either. As one of LA’s finest private chefs, James’ new wife turned ordinary meals into something of magic.
“Rachel can come too, if you’d like,” she added.
Betzy gave Camila a grin, grateful to finally have a sister at last. “Thank you,” she said. “I’d love that.” She glanced down at her phone to see if Sawyer had texted anything more. He hadn’t, which left his latest words like black dots against the white screen. Women. Always so complicated.
But she had to disagree. Sawyer Kingsley—he was the complicated one. No matter how many times Betzy had hoped something might happen between them, she’d met with one too many disappointments in that regard.
He was, in a way, untouchable. Sadly, she would likely never kiss those lips again. Unless, Betzy mused wryly, she wanted to kiss the pages of that magazine.
Chapter 3
Sawyer rolled his shoulders back as he headed toward the elevator. As it was in the bustling city, the sights, sounds, and excitement were enough to distract a man for days. Too bad Sawyer had become immune.
His mind always found a way to think about Betzy. And right now, he was hyper focused on her latest text.
The elevator dinged, the doors glided open, and Sawyer joined the crowd as they stepped inside. He moved to the back wall, tugged his phone from his pocket, and gave it another glance. I can admit that all sorts of men are sexy. It doesn’t mean they’re my type.
A stream of irritated curses blared through his head as he shoved the device back into his pocket. How much clearer could she be? Why didn’t she just come out and say it? Sure, you’ve done well for yourself, and you’re not bad to look at, but that doesn’t make you marriage material.
Who cared about a stupid magazine article that claimed he was eligible in some way? That statement couldn’t be farther from the truth. Heck, everything he’d done—the success he’d worked so hard to gain—all of it was for her.
No, he might be single. But that didn’t mean he was available. Not really.
His phone gave out a quick buzz. Please be from Betzy. One look at the text itself said that maybe it was. It asked one simple question, one he’d been waiting for Betzy to ask. But the name attached wasn’t hers.
Daisy: Hey, bachelor. Are you coming home for the holidays?
He couldn’t help but cringe. Though it hadn’t been a necessary part of her job, Daisy Shay had made a point to come out to NY when Sawyer met up with the photographer and the reporter too.
Daisy insisted he join her for a drink after the interview. When he’d declined the first two times, stating his schedule wouldn’t allow it, she said she’d simply reschedule her flight and stay a while longer. That woman always was persistent, he’d give her that.
Persistent enough to lean into him at the bar and steal a kiss. He shook his head at the recollection. Sure, Daisy was attractive, always had been. But she couldn’t hold a candle to Betzy in his eyes.
Sawyer tucked the phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t so sure he would fly home now. Maybe he’d fly Mom out to New York again. Only he knew she didn’t want that. Mom preferred the moderate temps of California any day of the week. Plus, she didn’t want to leave Mario behind, him getting up there in years and all. The mere thought of their scruffy Beagle made Sawyer long to give him a rubdown and play with those big, floppy ears.
Home. California really was home. So why was Sawyer waiting so long to get back to it?
Once he stepped out of the cramped elevator, he ran a hand along the back of his neck, hoping to press out the knots forming there. Perhaps he should skip the club tonight and call for a massage instead. Ryan would understand. Heck, he was probably already buying drinks for some chick who’d caught his eye. If Sawyer didn’t show, Ryan could skip the inevitable step of apologizing for taking off with so-and-so. Or worse, the part where he begged Sawyer to go home with so-and-so’s friend. Awkward, since he declined every time.
He simply
wasn’t in the mood. And here he’d thought that his trip back home this Christmas would be the one. Either he’d been reading the flirtation in her texts wrong, or his mom was slacking on the details of Betzy’s dating life. She was his main source, after all.
“Doesn’t mean I’m you’re type, huh?” he grumbled under his breath. Perhaps he really had done all of this for nothing. Sure, he’d gained a whole lot—hit the million-dollar mark just six months after working beside Ryan as a real estate investor. The man knew what he was doing, after all. And heck, maybe his uncle knew more what he was doing in the women department than Sawyer had given him credit for. Perhaps he’d been holding on to nothing but a fool’s dream.
With that thought in mind, Sawyer headed to the club after all.
Betzy tuned in on the warmth of the crackling fire at her feet, centered between Camila and Rachel once again. She hadn’t pictured James as the type to buy a massive beanbag, but ever since Camila stepped into his life, he continued to surprise her. One thing could be said about the informal furniture piece—it was perfect for lounging out on a quiet night in.
“So he takes off after you graduate,” Camila said, retelling parts of—as Rachel called it—the Sawyer and Betzy saga.
“Right,” Betzy said with a nod.
“But not before laying an earth-shattering kiss on you first,” she added.
Betzy nodded. “Mm hmm.”
“A kiss that ruined her for every other male on the planet, we might add,” Rachel chimed while twisting taffy around her finger. “This eggnog taffy is going to be the death of me, by the way.” She wiggled the taffy ring off her finger and popped it into her mouth with a moan.
Camila giggled. “Glad you like it.”
“This isn’t some tactic to make yourself thinner than all the women around you, is it?” Rachel accused.
“Hey, we’re women,” Camila said. “We like our curves, right?”
Betzy did her best to laugh along, but inwardly, she was ready to move past the next part of her story. And while she dreaded replaying the event that soured her against fate, Betzy could really use some fresh insight from her new sister-in-law. As supportive as Rachel might be, her radical tendencies often tainted her view. Rachel didn’t deny it, either.
“So you’ve stayed close all this time, right?” Camila said. “Like, from a distance, I mean.”
Betzy nodded. “Right. We text off and on a few times a week.”
Rachel leaned over Betzy’s lap and shot a look at Camila. “Don’t you think it speaks volumes that they don’t talk to each other about their love life? Like, ever?”
Betzy had just moved her gaze off Camila to Rachel, but she ping-ponged back to see Camila give her friend a nod. “Yes, I do. To me, that says the feelings are mutual. You do have feelings for him still, right?”
The fire seemed to move from the hearth to Betzy’s chest. It was a good thing she was used to Rachel and her direct ways, since Camila, as sweet and innocent as she might be, wasn’t familiar with the whole beating-around-the-bush approach, which Betzy had grown rather fond of on the topic of Sawyer Kingsley.
“I guess,” she admitted. “But here’s the problem. And maybe I’m just going to brush over the last ten years a little because nothing really eventful happened during that time until…” Betzy stopped there. These words needed attention. They needed careful orchestrating. They needed—
“Until she caught him making out with some chick in New York,” Rachel blurted.
Camila gasped. “You did?”
No, those weren’t flames in Betzy’s chest after all. It felt more like fire pokers. Dozens of smoldering hot stabs right to the heart. Her standard line of defense shot to her lips.
“It’s not like we were dating.” A humorless laugh came next as she tossed a hand in the air. “Heck, we were never dating. Not even when he kissed me.” Oh, how she liked saying the words he kissed me aloud. He had kissed her. Kissed her like he meant it and then some. And Rachel wasn’t kidding; it had absolutely destroyed Betzy for other men. The few guys who’d worked their way up to a goodnight kiss had only disappointed. And Marcus—ick—he’d been the worst one of all.
“So tell me how all this went down.” Camila shifted in the bag until she stared directly at the high-vaulted ceiling. “I’m going to watch it all play out in my mind.”
Betzy couldn’t help but smile. “Well, he usually comes home every Christmas, right? And some years I see him, some years I don’t. Depends on when we head out to the cabin and how long he ends up staying.”
Camila nodded. Rachel reached for another piece of taffy.
“Five years ago he flew back here for my dad and grandpa’s funerals,” she said. “And of course, he came here for Winston’s too,” Betzy added, remembering the family’s most recent funeral—the dark day they’d buried Betzy’s younger brother after the tragic overdose.
“Anyway, I guess I should say that I always kind of assumed that Sawyer and I would be together eventually.” It felt odd to admit such a thing. With Rachel, someone who’d been there all along, she hadn’t needed to say it aloud.
“So he said he’d come back to LA after he was done in New York?” Camila asked.
Betzy nodded. “Kind of. Not for me. But he did say he was going to New York to shadow his uncle, learn the ways of a successful real estate mogul, then come back to California after a few years. He never said how long it would be, but I just figured it would be like five or something.
“Anyway, after the plane crash, life just…started moving in some sort of haze. I started to see things differently. Stuff I thought mattered…” A chill rocked through her as she allowed herself to slip back into that time for a breath.
“They didn’t really matter anymore. I’d been redecorating my penthouse, right? I mean, I was obsessed. Every detail had to be perfect right down to the imported Indian fabric for my throw pillows.” She shook her head, recalling the appearance of her front room in the pale morning light just moments after she’d gotten word.
“Mom’s the one who called. Told me that something had gone wrong with the plane.” Both Camila and Rachel knew most of the details. Grandpa Benton had recently gotten his pilot license. He and Betzy’s dad had planned a father-son fishing trip to Wyoming. But there’d been a malfunction in the plane. And in a matter of minutes, two of the most important men in her life were gone.
“It threw us all into a tailspin. There was just so much hurt. But there was that moment, you know? When I was sitting in my practically perfect penthouse, waiting for my mom to come with the car, where I started to resent it.” The hot pokers were back in her chest, burning a familiar scar into her wounded heart.
Rachel offered comfort by cozying into her, resting her head against her shoulder as she continued.
“I remember staring at that stupid, stupid pillow I’d made such a big deal about. It made me wonder what I’d been doing with my life. I wanted to undo the last two hundred hours I’d spent obsessing over that room and spend them with my dad instead. My grandpa too. Just…our whole family while it was still whole, you know?”
Camila sniffed and wiped her face. “Yes.” And she really did know. Camila had suffered a whole lot of loss of her own.
“Anyway,” Betzy said, dabbing the corners of her eyes, “I guess it caused this seize the day type of awakening in me. And seeing Sawyer at the funeral, allowing him to comfort me through the pain, it felt so natural. And it made me miss him in a way I couldn’t explain. I was done waiting for him to finish what he’d started in New York. I wanted him to come home.”
Camila shifted so she was sitting upright again. She turned to Betzy with wide eyes. “So, did you tell him that?”
“That’s where it gets complicated. I decided I’d tell him. In fact, I told myself that I’d tell him when he came back for the holidays. But that was the year he decided to fly his mom to New York and spend Christmas there. Maybe because he’d just been here for the funerals. Maybe his mom
really wanted to spend the holidays in New York before he left. I don’t know.
“But it felt like our relationship had been shifting a little. I figured he was coming back soon, and it felt like, to me anyway, that we were working our way into a romantic relationship after all this time.”
Camila smiled knowingly. “Hmm, how romantic.”
Betzy grinned as well. “In some ways, it was. But like Rachel said, we didn’t talk about our dating life, so I was just assuming he was available, like me. So Christmas passed. His mom came back into town. And then came New Years Eve.”
“Oh my gosh,” Camila blurted. “This is like a movie.”
Betzy couldn’t help but be amused by Camila’s excitement. “If it is, this is the scene that makes you cringe, trust me.” She put her mind back on that day. The hustle and bustle of getting onto the jet. Making arrangements for a driver when she got into the city.
“I flew out to New York on New Years Eve. We’d been texting back and forth, and I’d asked him what he had planned for the night. He told me he planned to order pizza, kick back on his leather recliner with a drink, and countdown the New Year with the big screen.”
Rachel chuckled under her breath. “Such a guy thing to do.”
“Next comes the cringe part,” Betzy warned. “And mind you, this was me taking fate into my own hands. Seizing the day. Following my heart. Whatever you want to call it, I was doing it, and it felt right.” The truth of that statement made her heart ache anew.
“I was texting him while the driver took me to his apartment. They’d started blocking off some of the streets for that night’s celebrations, but there was still a while to go before the countdown. Anyway, he told me he was heading back to his place, so I watched for him from the car, and didn’t get out until he went in.
“I got through security easily enough by showing the doorman my ID, but as soon as I stepped past the security guards, I caught a view of the glass elevator. I spotted Sawyer a split second before some woman took his face in her hands and planted a kiss on him.”
Her Best Friend Fake Fiancé Page 3