Weekend Wife: A Fake Fiancée Romantic Comedy Standalone
Page 21
When the last note rang out, there was a respectable amount of applause.
Lou, who wasn’t known for interacting with the customers, spoke up. “Thanks for being patient with us this morning, folks. If you noticed Grant here does not have a pro voice but he wanted to serenade his girl, and I couldn’t resist.” He put his hand to his chest. “I’ve been married to my sweetheart for twenty-five years and I’m a sucker for romance.”
He was? That was adorable. Lou talked about his wife on a regular basis but he always acted gruff. Right now, he genuinely looked like he’d wanted to be a part of a moment.
“Back to your regular program,” he said now with a grin. “Theresa, sing something.”
Theresa stepped forward and launched into “Memories” from Cats.
“What is going on?” I asked Grant, wanting to jump into his arms and kiss his handsome face, but knowing we needed to talk first.
He pulled me into the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For leaving you in the Hamptons. For being an idiot. For not telling you about the theater. For proposing to you in front of everyone. I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
Grant cleared his throat. “I am.”
“I’m sorry too,” I murmured. “I didn’t know what to say and everything I said sounded wrong.” It hadn’t told him anything about the truth of what I felt for him.
He nodded. “I’m here to tell you that I am sorry but also that I have no intention of tearing the theater down. That I know you want to be independent and in control of your own life and choices and I totally respect that. That I’m asking you to be with me, because I love you and you make me happy in a way I could never have imagined.”
He reached for me and I didn’t resist. Couldn’t resist. Why the hell would I resist?
“Grant, I love you too. I meant that when I said that. I just didn’t think that…” I didn’t know how to articulate myself. God, for being an actress I couldn’t express myself when it counted.
“Leah,” he said, cupping my cheeks and staring at me intently. “I’m a man who has always been alone and I thought I always would be alone. I accepted that because I don’t like opening myself up and being in a position to get my heart fucking stomped on. But I never stood a chance with you. You’re my person. Do you get that?”
Oh yeah, that was me melting. Straight up puddle. “You’re my person too. You’re my Grant.”
The kitchen was loud and hot and staff was moving all around us, but I didn’t notice. I’d been in New York too long to be distracted by people. Every day was surrounded by the chaos of the city.
He hauled me against him.
I had a question first before I kissed the stuffing out of him. “Did you pay Lou to get my job back?” I asked.
Grant shook his head. “No. I struck a deal with Lou. I worked a shift here yesterday in exchange for you getting your job back. He was short-staffed and I think he wanted to see the rich guy waiting tables and washing dishes. Little did he know, I washed dishes in the navy.”
That made me grin despite my confusion and mixed feelings. “You definitely ruined it for him. He likes to torture people.”
“Did you get the tips I had delivered to you last night?”
For a second I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then I remembered the two hundred bucks that had showed up on our doorstep when I’d been a bottle and a half into a chardonnay pity party. “I did, thanks. I’m impressed with your haul.” I usually made more than that, but for a novice, he hadn’t done bad.
“Thank you.” He caressed my bottom lip with his thumb and gave me a look that made me weak in the knees.
“What is it you want exactly, Grant?” I asked softly. “For real.”
“For real I want whatever you want as long as you’ll let me in your life. I just want to be with you in whatever way works for you.”
I closed my eyes briefly, knowing I was way too in love with him to say anything other than yes. “Do you really think two people who barely know each other can make a serious relationship work? Could make marriage work?”
“Who says we barely know each other? You know me, Leah, despite what I said at my parents’ house. And I know you.”
He was right. “I do love you, Grant. It may be crazy, but I do know you, and you’re a good man. My man.” Javier was right. We could either make it work or not. It was up to us and I couldn’t let fear of failure stop me. Because that’s all it was. Fear.
“Does that mean you see us dating? Because I have to tell you, I will serenade you every day until you give me another chance.”
That made me laugh. “That’s so not necessary. But yes. Dating. Living together. Getting married. Driving your family nuts together. The whole happily ever after.”
“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
And he did. He kissed me like there was no tomorrow. Like I was the only woman in the world. Like he was out of air and I was oxygen.
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back, loving the way he tasted, felt, sounded. Loving him.
One of the cooks catcalled and we broke apart, breathing hard.
“Hi, Grant,” I murmured, gazing up at him with a soft smile.
“Hi, Leah.”
The kitchen door swung open. “Leah! Get out here. Fun’s over. Hit the bricks, Caldwell.”
“I have to go,” I said, amused.
“Apparently, I do too. I’ll see you after work. I’ll be right here when you get off.”
Nothing sounded better than that. “I feel like there is a double meaning in that.”
“There is. And I feel like you don’t like my singing.”
I gave him a smirk, deliriously happy. “Stick to real estate, Caldwell.”
I produced the plate of chocolate chip pancakes and set it in front of Leah with a flourish. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.” Leah gave me a sleepy, sexy smile and yawned. “Thank you, sweetheart. Rose would be proud of you.”
“Trust me, I’m sending her a picture of my work. Here’s your coffee.” I had gotten up early to surprise her with my culinary skills. I’d been practicing the pancakes for a few weeks. Turned out it wasn’t that hard, but the flip was a certain skill set I hadn’t previously possessed. I was in my underwear and she was in my T-shirt, sporting some serious “just fucked” hair. Which she had been. Repeatedly.
“Mm, I need that. You kept me up late.”
I had. My cock hardened at the memory. “We’re in Fiji on a private island and I owed you a hundred orgasms. I had to make some serious headway.”
She sighed with contentment. “You definitely did.” She sipped her coffee again and put her fork through the pancakes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The last two months with Leah had been the best of my entire life. She made me feel light, happy, content. She made me laugh. “I’m proud of you, by the way. My little Nikki Sixx.”
She hadn’t gotten the part of young Cher that Gigi had arranged the audition for, but the very next week she’d gotten a chorus girl role entirely on her own. It was for a long-running show and she’d made the decision to give up the server position at the diner. It was a huge step for her, and I was thrilled she was finding her success. Though I was going to miss that poodle skirt. Fond memories of tugging that fabric up came to mind.
Leah laughed. “You know what? I’m proud of me too.”
“Good.” I poured myself a cup of coffee and leaned over the counter in front of her, watching my beautiful soulmate eat, the backdrop of crystalline blue water behind her. Yes, I said it. Soulmate. Leah was it for me. “Are you ready to get married today?”
“One hundred percent.”
Leah had agreed to marry me, which amazed me, but I wasn’t going to question it. We had just moved into an apartment together, and because she was independent and proud, we were
splitting the rent. I think when I actually agreed to that without question, knowing I’d be living in a shoebox with a crap bathroom, she had realized how fucking serious I was about this relationship.
I’d had to jettison ninety percent of my belongings. She had taken to calling me the “billionaire in a box.” She could call me whatever she wanted as long as I could call her mine. Besides, I liked being on top of her. And I meant that exactly how you think.
“I’ve never been more prepared for any role than that of your wife.”
I growled and reached for her. She laughed and tried to get up and escape, but I caught her and hauled her back to the bedroom.
“Who’s faking it now?” I asked her twenty minutes later as she shattered beneath me.
“Not your fiancé,” she murmured, eyes glazed with love and pleasure.
Within two hours, we said “I do” on a yacht on the water with no one but the officiant.
No circus.
Just me and her.
Then we jumped overboard.
I hope you enjoyed reading Weekend Wife!
Want more rom com?
Read Stripped Down
When Sloane returns to her old hometown, she reunites with her younger brother’s best friend, Rick — while he’s stripping at a charity event! Will they relive their forbidden kiss… and maybe explore their tension in the bedroom? A sizzling romantic comedy!
About the Author
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written almost eighty novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for tattoos, high-heeled boots, and martinis. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.
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