Weekend Wife: A Fake Fiancée Romantic Comedy Standalone

by Erin McCarthy

  I had freaked the fuck out, thinking she had really fainted. The room around me had exploded with gasps.

  But I knew her well enough that when I dropped down and gathered her into my arms and she “came to” that it was all an act. I had waved off offers to call for an ambulance and had carried her up the stairs.

  I heard Aunt Judith say with great authority that Leah was most likely pregnant.

  Which had momentarily terrified me before I realized that was unlikely.

  No, she had just decided to drop to the floor like a ragdoll.

  Leah had kicked off her shoes and was sitting up, cheeks flushed, looking agitated. “What was that? I could ask you the same thing! What the hell was that? I was just getting the hell out of there after you blindsided me. Again.”

  “I wanted everyone to know how I feel about you.” I had. I did. I had also wanted Leah to understand that I may have fucked up with not telling her about the theater but that my feelings were real.

  A grand gesture.

  It worked in movies.

  “Now everyone is going to think we’re engaged!” Leah reached behind her head and unclasped her necklace. She tossed it on the bedside table.

  None of this was going according to plan. “We are engaged. You said yes.”

  She frowned at me. “That wasn’t real.”

  “Yes, it was.” So her yes wasn’t actually a yes? That did not make me happy.

  Her jaw dropped. “That was real? Grant!”

  “What?”

  “I thought it was an act.”

  “I gave you a ring.” Fucking great. My grand gesture had gone over exactly the opposite of how I had intended. “I had it delivered tonight. I bought it today.” It had taken thirty minutes and a massive amount of money but whatever. Clearly, she thought it was all bullshit.

  I was pissed and hurt.

  At my reminder of the ring, she jerked and tugged it off her finger. She set it next to the necklace. “We can’t get married. We just started dating. Why would you even think that?”

  It was like being slapped.

  I reared back. “Because I’m in love with you.”

  I had never truly loved a woman. I knew what I knew. What the hell was there to wait for? What would be different in a year or six months? Nothing.

  I wanted her.

  She looked at a loss as to what to say.

  It was there on her face. She didn’t want the same thing.

  “I don’t want to be an impulse, Grant. This is all exciting and new and then what happens in a couple of months? I don’t want to be a regret or the woman you see for a couple of hours on the weekend. A rich man’s weekend wife.”

  Wow. That was fucking harsh.

  “Then I guess you really don’t know me at all, do you? My mistake.” That hurt. I had shown her me, without walls up, and she thought I was the kind of guy who just wanted something and took it. I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Are you coming back to the party?”

  She shook her head no.

  My nostrils flared and my throat constricted. “Fine. I’ll tell them you’re sick.”

  “I can’t marry you,” she said, wrapping her arms over her middle. She looked troubled.

  “You don’t have to. I’ll tell everyone in a week or two we broke up.” That would fit right in with her opinion of me.

  “Are we breaking up?” she asked, looking like she might cry.

  I knew I was being an asshole, but I couldn’t help it. It felt like I was being gutted. It felt like I was alone. Again. Like always.

  “We were never really together, were we?” I said, and my voice was cold, angry.

  Leah winced.

  I left the room and returned to the party, going straight for the bar. I poured a whiskey and forced an easy smile onto my face. I turned and spent the rest of the night accepting congratulations and reassuring everyone Leah was fine.

  That night I slept in the library on the chesterfield sofa.

  In the morning, I left at dawn and sent Leah back to the city with Trevor.

  I didn’t want to see her.

  I couldn’t bear to see her.

  It would hurt too much.

  On Monday I had a check sent to her.

  On Tuesday I signed the papers to buy the theater and told Max I didn’t want to tear it down.

  On Wednesday I went to the diner to apologize because I owed her that. I could handle seeing her in a public place. Maybe. I needed to man up and say I was sorry for leaving her at my parents’ house and explain why. That it had hurt like hell and I wasn’t used to letting anyone in. That I’d let her fully in, fallen in love, and then fucked it up because I didn’t know what I was doing.

  I wanted to say all of that and more.

  But she wasn’t even there.

  “She doesn’t work here anymore,” the hostess told me.

  “What?” I frowned at her. Leah had worked there for years. She’d told me that. Would she quit to avoid seeing me? It didn’t seem like her style. Leah was a dreamer and an optimist, but she was also practical.

  The other server Leah had always worked with eyed me up and down, a stack of dirty dishes in her hand. “She got fired. She called in sick then boss man saw she was partying in the Hamptons with you. She didn’t tell you?”

  No. She hadn’t told me.

  I left the diner. Stood on the corner, thought a minute.

  Then turned around and went back in.

  “What is going on in here?” Felicia said, pounding on my door. “You’ve been in your room for three days and I’m freaking out that you’re spiraling.”

  Oh. I was spiraling. That was an understatement. “Go away.”

  “No. I’m coming in.”

  I hadn’t bothered to lock my door because who cared about anything? Not me.

  Felicia shoved the door open, flipped on the light, and stepped into my room, wrinkling her nose. I can’t say the room was smelling fresh.

  I blinked against the harsh light like a baby mole. I’d been in the dark for three days with only my phone for light.

  “Oh, hell no,” she said, when she saw me. “No, no, and no.”

  “Leave me alone,” I said, clutching the bottle of wine to my chest. The bottle of wine I was holding against the Valentino cocktail dress Grant had bought me, that I was currently wearing while lying in my bed, slippers on my feet.

  I took a sip of wine. My hair was a rat’s nest and my cheeks were tight from dried tears.

  “This is not healthy.”

  “Of course it’s not healthy! It’s me having a meltdown. If I were you, I’d look away. It ain’t pretty.”

  “Leah. Give me the wine.” She held her hand out and gave me a firm look. “When did you last eat?”

  “I’m eating grapes,” I said, not interested in relinquishing my bottle.

  I was, without question, totally drunk.

  I was also broken-hearted and devastated.

  Grant didn’t come to the north bedroom Saturday night.

  And he had Trevor drive me home in the world’s most awkward commute back into the city. He’d tried small talk and I had cried. Eventually he’d just turned up the radio and pretended he didn’t hear me weeping and sucking snot back up into my nostrils. Considering it was my first meeting with him, I’m sure I left an absolutely fabulous impression. At least he’d helped me escape the Caldwells out the back door before anyone woke up, presumably all nursing hangovers from the previous night’s festivities.

  When Trevor had knocked on the bedroom door, I’d thought it was Grant.

  Then was hurt and angry when it wasn’t.

  I’d left the engagement ring on the nightstand, unsure what the hell had actually happened between us.

  “Javier!” Felicia yelled.

  My other roommate’s face appeared in the doorway. “Oh, shit,” was his reaction.

  “How could you let this happen?” Felicia asked him. “I’ve been out all day at the flea market for work and I come
home to this. You should be checking on her.”

  “Why would I do that?” he asked, looking annoyed at being called out. “She’s an adult. How the hell was I supposed to know what she was doing in here?”

  I took another sip of wine, uninterested in their blame-game. “I’m fine. I’m drunk. I’m miserable. I’m wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress in bed but it’s all good. It’s a reminder of how stupid I was to think that someone like Grant and someone like me could be together. Forever.” I thought about being married to Grant and I wanted to raise my fists in the air and demand answers from a cruel universe.

  Not to be dramatic or anything.

  Why had I said no? I mean, after I fake said no, and then he told me it was real.

  But everything had happened so fast and had all been so confusing and I’d been terrified that I would get in too deep.

  Real didn’t feel real and getting engaged was crazy impulsive and he’d purposely not told me about the theater and I’d avoided telling him about being fired. And why would I think that he was serious? Who got engaged after two weeks?

  The weekend had imploded but now I wanted to talk and the only communication from him was a check that arrived by courier on Monday. There was no note.

  “I think I should leave,” Javier said. “That’s a vibrator lying on the bed next to her and this is very awkward for me.”

  I glanced over at the pink present from Grant. The vibrator wasn’t technically from him which made it even more pathetic that I was treating it like a comfort animal. “I’m not using it. It just reminds me of him.”

  There was a pause, then Javier said, “See, that doesn’t make this any less awkward. Maybe even more.”

  “I’m sorry I make you uncomfortable,” I said, slurring the middle syllable of uncomfortable. “My life is uncomfortable. I am in love with a billionaire and I got fired from the diner. I fucking got fired from the only job between me and starvation and death and it’s your fault, Javi.”

  Felicia gasped. “You got fired?”

  I nodded and took another sip. Wine dribbled onto my chin.

  Javier’s eyebrows rose. “How is this my fault?”

  “You didn’t warn me hard enough. You told me to go to the Hamptons. Have fun, you said. You didn’t tell me not to fall in love with him.”

  “I thought that was understood. I told you he’s a player.”

  That hurt my heart. Two fat tears squeezed up out of my eyes and rolled down the sides of my cheeks. I picked up the vibrator, needing to emphasis what I was about to say. I pointed it at my roommates. “He is not a player. Don’t say that. He’s a good man even if he’s a control freak and bossy as hell.” I sighed, turning my head to see all the designer clothes strewn about my tiny room. “I’m going to die here, aren’t I?” I said, pessimism crushing me.

  I imagined suffocating under the weight of my dreams and Chanel.

  My audition for the role of Cher was in two days and I wasn’t prepared.

  Spiraling? I was going over Niagara Falls without a barrel.

  “Okay, intervention time,” Felicia said, approaching my bed. “This has gone too far.”

  “It has, hasn’t it?” I asked her. “It’s all gone too far. I should have stayed in my lane, remembered who I was.”

  “I swear to God, I’m going to slap you,” Felicia said, reaching for my bottle. “You’ve lost your mind. Stay in what lane? Fuck that. Starving actress isn’t your identity, it’s just your current circumstance. And don’t tell me you of all people believe that bullshit that you don’t deserve to be in their world of privilege. Who are they? People with money. That’s it. They’re no better than any of us.”

  “I don’t mean they’re better than me. Just that I don’t belong there. Taking handouts from rich people. I need to succeed on my own, right?” I didn’t resist this time when she reached for the wine. “But I am in love with Grant and now I’m never going to have him. This sucks. Everything sucks.”

  “Get rid of this,” Felicia said, shoving the bottle at Javier.

  “Gladly,” he said. He went down the hall just as the buzzer rang.

  “Come on,” Felicia said. “Sit up.” She took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be okay, eventually. Maybe you can talk to Grant.”

  Javier could be heard talking to someone and he reappeared in my doorway. “You got a package.”

  My heart soared. A gift from Grant? An indicator he wanted to talk to me, to work things out?

  My roommate handed me a flat envelope. I frowned and opened it. Two one-hundred-dollar bills fell out. “What the hell is this?”

  I shook the envelope. There was no note. I put a bill in each of my hands and held them out to my roommates. “Here. One for each of you.”

  Javier reached out to take it but Felicia slapped his hand. “Stop it. She’s loaded and has no clue what she’s doing.”

  My phone buzzed. Felicia picked it up off my dresser. “You have a text from your boss. He says you can come back to work tomorrow.”

  “Really?” I grabbed the phone from her. She was right. I could go back to work. “Thank God.” I didn’t even care to question it. I was just grateful and I shot off a response that may or may not have had a dozen exclamation points and heart eye emojis.

  “Why don’t you get up and take a shower?” Felicia asked.

  I thought about it.

  I was an optimist. “I can do that.”

  Felicia was scooping up piles of designer clothes crumpled on my floor. “I’m steaming these and hanging them up. This is a crime against fashion.”

  “Thanks, Felicia.” My head was spinning. I reached for a water bottle and took a big swig. “You’re awesome and I love you.” I would have said it sober but drunk it sounded even more effusive. “You’re my best friend.”

  “I love you too.” Felicia stood there with a pile of laundry loaded to her chin. “And maybe you don’t want to hear this but you can either ignore all the opportunities that came from meeting Grant or you can appreciate them. Yes, you have a broken heart and I’m not discounting that, but you have an audition you never could have gotten on your own. Maybe that’s why the universe led him to you. That’s what you can learn and take away from this.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to hear that,” I said, even as I thought there might be some truth to it. “But you have a point. I need to appreciate this audition and I need to be prepared for it, not nursing a hangover.”

  “Good girl.” She nodded approvingly.

  I left my room, holding on to the wall of the narrow hallway for support. Javier was getting an iced coffee out of the fridge. He gave me a cautious glance. “Do you need help?”

  “I’ve got it.” I climbed the single step into our bathroom. It felt like Mount Everest. My hand was shaking. “I think I wrecked myself.”

  “That you did.” Javier poured a glass of water. “Here. Drink this. And for the record, don’t listen to Felicia. The universe wasn’t trying to teach you anything. You met a guy and you fell in love with him. That’s not meant to be a lesson. It’s meant to be a relationship. If I were you, I’d just go and talk to him. If you care about someone, you don’t give up until you’ve exhausted all possibilities that the relationship will work.”

  His words hit me full force. My face got hot and I stared at him, heart racing.

  He was one hundred percent right.

  “Javi, you’re the wisest man in the world.”

  “Fuck yeah, I am.”

  After I detoxed from pickling myself with wine and working my “please forgive me” shift at work tomorrow, I was going to Grant’s office and we were going to talk. I did know Grant, and he wasn’t a man who confessed feelings if he didn’t have them.

  Everything had gotten out of hand, but that didn’t mean we didn’t have a future.

  No acting. Just straight talk.

  Chapter 16

  Feeling almost human, I went into work at the diner the next morning.
I wasn’t sleeping well and I couldn’t get images out of my head of laughing with Grant, being in bed with Grant, hearing him saying he loved me. It was killing me.

  I was shocked Lou had given me my job back so quickly. He must not have been able to find a replacement on such short notice or maybe he’d decided to just give me a written warning. Whatever his reason, I was grateful.

  The diner was crowded as usual when I walked in, but I frowned, immediately puzzled. Who the hell was singing? Because he sucked. It wasn’t any of my usual co-workers. It was a singing voice I’d never heard and never wanted to again. I looked around, trying to find the source of the off-key baritone. My gaze landed on a guy with broad shoulders wearing the diner uniform of a black T-shirt and jeans, sleeves rolled like greasers in the fifties.

  Then he turned and I almost fainted for real this time. It was Grant, attempting Grease Lightning, very unsuccessfully.

  He gave me a wink.

  Theresa appeared at my elbow. “What is happening?” I asked her, heart racing. I was ridiculously, embarrassingly happy to see him.

  It had to mean he wanted to talk.

  “He sucks, doesn’t he?” she asked cheerfully.

  “I don’t understand.” I had no clue whatsoever what was going on.

  Lou appeared next to Grant. He made a throat-cutting gesture. Grant stopped singing. Then Lou yelled to me, “Leah! Get up here. Duet.”

  This was a total setup. I wasn’t even sure I had my job back but it was clear Grant had paid Lou to do this. The man loved a grand gesture. This time I decided to roll with it. Why was I even fighting it? Hadn’t I always said I loved an entrance?

  All eyes were on me. I went over to the counter by the kitchen door where Grant was standing. “What are we singing?” I asked him, trying to act cool.

  For a minute he didn’t speak. He just stared into my eyes and I saw everything I wanted to see there. Regret. Love. Hope.

  Then he started singing, his voice rough.

  Of course it was Summer Lovin.’ I gave him a look, but I joined in right at my part. The strength of my voice seemed to bolster his, and conscious of the fact that he was humiliating himself on my behalf, I entered and exited sooner than necessary, embellishing and playing up the fun aspect of the song. I mostly looked at him, admiring how hot he was in that black T-shirt, but I also engaged with the diners out of habit.