Except that one of the twins walked in on her fiancé having sex with her former friend.
Somehow Elizabeth doubted that was the story American Bride wanted to hear.
“Listen, Con, I uh…I can’t do the interview.”
The silence at the other end of the line was deafening. Elizabeth cringed as she waited for her sister’s response.
“Excuse me?”
That was it. So typically Connie. Ice dripped from the words and Elizabeth found herself twirling her hair around her finger like one of the teens she taught.
“Um, see, the thing is….Jason and I. We called off the wedding.”
Silence.
Dammit. Why hadn’t she told her sister sooner? Maybe because she was afraid of this.
“Why?”
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath before finally wussing out. “I don’t want to talk about it.” And she didn’t. She really didn’t. Especially not with Connie, who had never liked Jason. The thought of hearing an ‘I told you so’ right now was more than she could bear.
Fortunately Elizabeth hadn’t expected sympathy, because she certainly didn’t get it. “Fine. Don’t talk about it but you are not backing out of this interview.”
“But—”
She could practically see her sister’s scowl as she cut her off. “Listen to me, Lizzie. I have planned our dream wedding and you will not ruin this for me. I’m sure this is just cold feet and you and Jason will make up eventually. And when you do, you will thank me for holding this wedding together.”
No, she wanted to scream. This is not cold feet! This is a penis in another woman’s vagina. This would not be patched up with a bouquet of flowers and a good talk.
But she didn’t say any of that. She just flapped her mouth in a vague attempt to find an excuse. “Jason won’t be there. It’s supposed to be with both couples,” she pointed out.
“Let me handle the interview. You just show up here on time.”
Any further protests were cut off with a dial tone.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mark said as he shoved one arm into a long-sleeved shirt.
His best friend’s voice lowered to the point where he could barely hear him. “Please, man, I’ll owe you.”
“Is this your fiancée’s idea?” He refused to call Connie by her name. Petty, sure, but it was a passive way of protesting his best friend’s colossal mistake of an engagement.
Robbie’s lack of a response was answer enough—this was her idea.
“Why the hell do you need me to take part in an interview?”
Robbie sighed and for one brief moment, Mark took pity on his quiet, kind friend who’d somehow gotten himself involved with a she-devil. “Look, it’s a long story. But we really need someone to pretend to be her sister’s fiancé.”
“What happened to the real fiancé? Did the twin eat him alive?” If Connie’s twin was anything like her, he hoped like hell the poor fiancé had fled the country. If only he could take Robbie with him. Save yourselves!
“Very funny,” Robbie sighed. Mark bit back any more jokes at his friend’s new family’s expense. He could go on for hours about how ridiculous this double wedding had become but it would fall on deaf ears. Besides, as best man he was supposed to be supporting his friend—even though what he really wanted to do was sabotage this Titanic of a marriage.
Mark sighed his surrender. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“Whatever you want,” Robbie agreed with a triumphant grin. Mark watched his friend head toward the door. Probably trying to escape before Mark had a chance to change his mind. Smart man.
Mark called out after him. “My bike is in the shop again. You’re paying for my cab to your house tonight.”
“Done,” Robbie shouted as he headed out the door.
Mark heard the insanity before he saw it.
The door to Robbie and Connie’s home was cracked open so he let himself in. Connie’s harsh voice had him wincing in sympathy for Robbie.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
He heard a soft, female voice respond but he couldn’t make out the words. So it wasn’t Robbie who was in trouble this time, good for him. Must be the sister.
The kitchen was a mass of commotion. Connie, with her perfectly coifed blonde hair, was moving around the room, straightening up an already tidy kitchen. Robbie was putting together a tray of cheese and crackers and the sister—
She turned then and whatever mental faculties he’d had fled for their lives.
Holy shit. It was her. The girl from that night. That night.
Luckily for him, she was the center of her sister’s attention and Robbie was focused on his appetizers so no one saw his epic loss of dignity. No one except her.
But if she noticed that his mouth fell open and his eyes bulged out of his head, she didn’t let on. She was too busy staring at him. But not in the shocked way that he was staring at her. No. Her expression was blank. She was basically looking right through him as if he was a complete stranger, and an uninteresting one at that.
Right. He was just the bartender who gave her a shoulder to cry on and quite possibly saved her life. Why would she remember him? But he remembered her. God, she was beautiful. More beautiful now in the clear light of day, without that adorably dopey drunken expression when she’d smiled up at him before passing out. Just the memory of that look had him grinning now. Connie, she-witch that she was, apparently sensed his presence and spun around to face him.
Her pretty features, which were almost always furrowed in some sort of serious expression, creased into a forced smile. “Mark, thank you so much for coming. We’re so grateful you could be here.”
Grateful? He looked to his girl from the bar and she looked…pale. He would describe her as tired. Hungry, maybe. There was no gratitude in sight.
Robbie came over and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good friend, man.”
He did his best to match his friend’s jovial tone. “What’s a best man for?”
That earned him a hug from Connie and a nervous laugh from Robbie. They both turned to his mystery woman who still stared, expressionless.
Initial surprise gone, the pieces of this bizarre little puzzle started to click into place. He was here to play the fourth in this double engagement. Which meant his formerly charming, now creepily staring, crush from two weeks before was in fact….no. No, no, no. It couldn’t be—she couldn’t be—
“Mark, I don’t think you’ve met Connie’s twin sister,” Robbie started.
Shit. His mystery lady was the twin? This could not be happening.
He took a step forward, interrupting the awesomely awkward silence they’d once again slipped into, and reached out a hand. “I’m Mark.”
There was another silence during which he, Robbie, and Connie waited for her to take his hand. He could practically feel his best friend’s tension. What the hell was going on here?
The tension broke when she took his hand. So small, so soft. So brief. “Elizabeth,” she mumbled before snatching her hand back.
He looked from her to his friend and finally to Connie, waiting for someone to tell him what he was doing here. “So, I hear I’ll be playing the role of fiancé number two?”
The whole double wedding thing was ridiculous; it was tacky and silly and exactly the sort of—
His internal rambling came to an abrupt end as the second piece of this puzzle clicked into place. The double wedding. The twin sister. The girl from the bar that night. It was her.
That meant she was not only a sibling to the spawn-of-Satan, as Mark affectionately thought of her, but she was also….engaged?
Maybe Connie saw the horror on his face because she rushed to his side. “Unfortunately Lizzie’s fiancé couldn’t be here tonight but we couldn’t cancel this interview….”
Mark found himself nodding as she spoke but he was barely paying attention. He could make out every other word, enough to know that this woman—his drunk girl—was h
appily engaged but her fiancé….very important doctor….called into surgery…blah blah blah.
By the end of Connie’s speech, this much was clear—Mark was to fill in and pretend so the all-important article could be written and his best friend’s disaster of a wedding could go off without a hitch. Wonderful.
He glanced over at Robbie to see him silently pleading with a look that said ‘please help me or Connie will destroy my life.’ Only Robbie’s oldest friend would know that look.
Sorry, man. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. This pleading look on his friend’s face was the very reason he couldn’t help him. Connie was ruining him. He’d known it from the start but he’d thought his friend would wake up and come to his senses. Instead, he’d proposed. And somehow he’d managed to talk him into being the best man. But his assistance ended here. He would take a stand. And if a failed interview brought about the end of their engagement? All the better.
But before he could say so, Elizabeth finally spoke up. “You don’t have to do this.”
All three of them looked to her in surprise. He glanced over at the other two. Well, Connie’s expression was more irrational anger than surprise but judging by Robbie’s astonishment, the twin sister might as well have declared herself a man.
Apparently Robbie wasn’t the only one who kowtowed to Connie.
Elizabeth’s tongue flicked out to lick her lips and Mark froze. No, he heated. That innocent little gesture set his entire body into overdrive and he was pretty sure he could feel the neural pathways fizzing out. They were all looking at him now, waiting for him to speak.
What was the question?
Oh right. Would he aid and assist in the lunacy that was Connie’s bridal magazine interview?
He was going to say no, wasn’t he? For Robbie’s sake? He should take a stand.
But Elizabeth was staring at him. Was he imagining it or was that panic in her eyes? Memories of that night flashed through his mind—mainly her ridiculous insistence that she was going to die alone. Interesting. What if the beloved doctor fiancé wasn’t just a no-show for the interview? Maybe they were on the outs.
“Mark, you’ll do it, right?” Robbie asked.
Was he imagining things or did Elizabeth give him a little shake of her head. He saw it then, the tiniest slip in her composure. A widening of her eyes and the tight set of her lips.
Oh, she knew exactly who he was. And she wanted him gone.
Very, very interesting.
“Of course I’ll do it,” he found himself saying.
Her rapid blinking made his smile genuine so that when he turned to Robbie, his oldest friend had no idea just how much he still wanted to destroy the wedding. But the catastrophic wedding wasn’t for another two months. He had plenty of time to interfere.
As Connie and Robbie leapt into action, preparing for the illustrious reporter, Mark turned back to Elizabeth.
That’s right, my little drunken friend. There’s no running away this time.
Elizabeth ran away. Granted, she only made it as far as the first floor powder room, but still. She fled in the face of danger.
No, not danger. Mark.
So that was his name. A hysterical giggle rose in her chest and she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it. The mysterious, half-naked hottie bartender had a name.
This was not funny, she reminded herself. She should not be laughing. The hottie—er, Mark—had recognized her. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised by that fact. After all, she had been the sloshed one, not him. It would have been pretty insulting if he hadn’t recognized her, actually. But her rational mind had hardly been at work when he’d arrived.
She’d thought she was hallucinating for a moment there. She’d been so caught up in the overwhelming wave of guilt and shame and anger...and then there he was. Him. The guy she’d woken up next to on the worst day of her life.
The man who was somehow part of the total eclipse that was that night. What the hell had happened between them?
Nope. Now was not the time to go back down that rabbit hole. Pushing herself away from the wall, she leaned against the countertop and stared at herself in the mirror. The cold marble beneath her palms was reassuring. A few deep breaths and the insane urge to laugh passed.
Why had he stayed? She was certain he was going to say no to this idiocy, but he’d surprised her. And now she would have to face him. In front of her sister and Robbie. And she would have to keep up this ruse that she’d never seen him before, let alone woken up in his bed.
Worse, she didn’t just have to face him, she had to pretend to like him. Nay, love him. Was he seriously going to play her fiancé? Like in some soap opera or Broadway show when the actor who normally played the role was replaced with an understudy. Maybe she should make an announcement when the interviewer arrived. “Today the role of Elizabeth’s fiancé will be played by Mark the Bartender.”
Right. She couldn’t stay in here forever.
Even from behind the closed door of the bathroom, she could hear Connie shouting, reminding her to hurry up because the reporter would be there at any moment.
Reporter. Seriously, her sister was acting like Barbara Walters would be arriving with a film crew. This was just a simple article in a magazine that no one she knew had ever read. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was not a big deal. It was one little interview and it would make Connie happy.
Once this was over and done with she would make her sister see that the double wedding would have to be called off. There was no way in hell she would take back her cheating ex-fiancé, not even if he begged.
Which he hadn’t.
But if he did…
Pull it together, Elizabeth. This was not the time to be obsessing over Jason. She could, and did, do that every other second of the day. What mattered now was making it through the next hour or so of her life with some shred of dignity.
Her brain flashed back to the portion of that night that she remembered. It included tears, whiskey, and—if memory served—some unfortunate, impromptu bar karaoke.
She made a face at herself in the mirror. Let’s face it. Any chance of saving your dignity in front of the hottie bartender was long gone. But perhaps she could manage to make it through this interview without embarrassing her sister and Robbie. A girl could dream.
Connie’s shrill voice cut through her pep talk and she allowed herself one last sigh of self-pity.
Here we go. She stepped into the hallway with all the enthusiasm of a death row inmate heading to the electric chair.
She could do this. It was just one hour. How bad could it be?
Elizabeth’s face was frozen in a smile. She hadn’t contributed a single comment to the nice young interviewer’s story. How could she when she was using all of her willpower to stay still and not jerk away from Mark, who had an arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders so they were pressed together, side by side.
Was this really necessary?
No. Probably not. But then, unlike Elizabeth, Mark wasn’t just doing the bare minimum. He wasn’t sitting there, shyly quiet with a pleasant smile. That was all he needed to do! But no. The hottie bartender was going above and beyond to win the award for best fiancé of the century, apparently.
Or maybe he was an actor and he was viewing this as his big break. Lots of bartenders were actors, weren’t they?
That must be it. Because there was no other logical reason for Mark’s behavior. As she sat frozen, obscenely aware of his body pressed against hers, her ‘fiancé’ was regaling the interviewer, along with Robbie and Connie, with the story of how they met.
It involved a ski accident, a trip to the emergency room, a mix-up at the front desk, wandering hands, and some stitches. The interviewer was laughing. Hell, even her sister and Robbie were grinning like idiots, eating up this story as if it was the truth.
What the hell?
When at last the interviewer declared that she had everything she needed, they all stood to see
her out.
Once Connie shut the door behind her, she turned to face the other three. “Well,” she said on an exhale. “That was…”
Horrific? Insane?
“Fantastic.” Connie beamed at Mark before stepping toward him to pull him into a hug.
Two hugs in one night. Connie must love him.
When she pulled back, she started thanking Mark…again. Like he’d just donated a kidney or something rather than tell a whole bunch of whoppers that would be seen for the lies that they were if anyone she knew were to read this article.
Not that they would. But that wasn’t the point.
“It was no sweat,” Mark said.
No sweat? Who even said that? Hot bartenders, apparently.
Breathe, Elizabeth. It’s almost over. You’ve done your duty and now you just have to convince Connie that this breakup is for real. The invites hadn’t been sent out yet. There was still time to make this double wedding a single.
Connie’s voice brought her back to the present with a start. “Lizzie can give you a ride home.”
Her head snapped up. Her sister, Robbie, and Mark were all taller than her—most people were, to be fair—but at that moment she felt the difference keenly. “What? I can’t, I mean—”
“Oh come on, Lizzie, he just did you a huge favor.” Connie overrode her objection smoothly. “You can drop him off on your way home.”
“But we need to talk—”
Connie’s sharp look cut her off. “Not tonight, sweetie.” It was said through gritted teeth in the same way their mother used to speak when their dad royally pissed her off. In fact, more and more lately she’d been noticing the similarities between her sister and her mother. But to voice that would be to tempt fate. No one wanted to be compared to their mother, particularly not their mother.
Robbie gave her a sympathetic smile and she swallowed her next protest. Maybe it would be best to give her sister one night to cool down before she hit her with the cold, hard truth. She and Jason were never getting back together, not even to make Connie happy.
She summoned up a smile as she grabbed her purse and led the way to the front door, avoiding Mark’s gaze. It wasn’t until she’d stepped into the balmy night air that she was struck by the next unavoidable tragedy of her night.
Sweet Tricks: A Love Bites Novella Page 8