Not Her Real Fiance

by Elana Johnson

  When the event finally ended, he drove slowly back to his place, quiet and stuck inside his own thought patterns.

  “You’re being quiet,” Celeste said.

  “Nothing to say,” he said, though there were plenty of words piling up beneath his tongue.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He made the final turn onto his street. “Did you want to stay engaged to help me? Or help yourself?”

  “I did say I’d like a fiancé this summer. I told you that.”

  “Yeah.” He looked out the window, because she had said that. It didn’t make him feel any less foolish though. This was a complete game to her, and he’d gone and started to like the woman.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, he told himself, the way his grandfather had done on the horse farm when Brad didn’t secure a gate right, and the prime horse on his grandfather’s farm had gotten out.

  His grandfather had been so mad, and Brad had learned that details mattered.

  He pulled right into the garage, all thoughts of kissing her completely gone now. He didn’t even want to look at her. She got out of the truck herself, and Brad went up the steps that led to the house.

  “Are you upset?” she asked.

  He turned back to her, trying to decide if this conversation was worth having. “You know what, Celeste? Yes, I’m upset.” He twisted the knob and went inside his house, leaving her in the garage.

  Half of him hoped she’d just get in her car and leave. She’d wanted to come to his place, because she was already out at a florist or a dressmaker or something to do with one of her brides.

  But he should’ve known she wouldn’t just leave without talking this through. He knew her well enough to know that. He’d just tossed his keys on the counter when the door closed behind him again.

  “Why are you upset?” she asked.

  “You paraded me around like a piece of meat. How’s that for you?” He leaned into the kitchen counter behind him and folded his arms. “How would you feel if I told you to dress up real nice and then took you to meet all of my buddies, just so I could show them how awesome I am?”

  “That is not—”

  “That is exactly what happened tonight,” he said. “And if you can’t see that, you’re delusional.”

  Celeste glared at him for a few seconds, and then the fire left her eyes. “I’m sorry, Brad.”

  “I—what?”

  “You’re right.”

  He was not expecting her to say that, and he had nothing to add to the conversation.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I’m sorry it made you feel like a piece of meat.” She nodded, and he thought she really meant it.

  “Okay,” he said. “Thank you for apologizing.”

  Celeste tucked her hair behind her ear, and Brad wished he’d been the one to do it. “Are we still on for the music festival tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m going to breakfast with my sister in the morning, too.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’ll call me after?”

  “Yep.”

  Celeste came into the kitchen and put one hand on his still-clenched arms. “I really am sorry.”

  “I know, Princess.”

  She cocked her head. “Why do you call me that?”

  “You’re kind of like a princess,” he said. “All the pieces always in the exact right place.” He swallowed, his throat dry. “So beautiful, all the time.” He loosened his arms and let his hands fall to his side.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, stretching up to place a delicate kiss on his cheek.

  Brad held very still as she settled back onto her heels and turned to leave. “See you tomorrow,” he said from his safe position in the kitchen.

  “Bye.” She lifted one hand in a wave, a gorgeous smile on her face, and left through the front door.

  Brad closed his eyes and breathed in deep, the scent of Celeste’s perfume still hanging in the air around him. Her touch burned through his blood, and he sighed.

  “You’re an idiot,” he said to the empty house, wishing now more than ever that he had a dog to talk to that night.

  “So you’re saying it’s not real,” Bella said, reaching for the saltshaker.

  “No,” Brad said, though he’d kind of said that. “I’m saying it’s not a big deal. I’m saying it might get called off, like the other two engagements I’ve had.”

  His sister frowned as she seasoned her scrambled eggs. “I don’t understand. Why would you ask her to marry you if you thought it would get called off?”

  “I don’t know,” Brad said. “Why did my other two engagements fail?”

  Bella rolled her eyes. “Come on, Brad. Really?” She speared a chunk of sausage and then a bit of egg and put it all in her mouth.

  Brad sipped his coffee and looked down at his Belgian waffle. “I’m just saying this doesn’t need to be a big deal. Celeste hasn’t chosen a date, and she said it’ll probably be a year before we get married.” He’d need to text her and tell her that, just in case someone else mentioned it to her.

  “Why so long?”

  “She’s a Heartwood,” Brad said, as if that summed it up. And it kind of did. They were Southern royalty. “Her inn is booked for a solid year, in case you didn’t know.”

  “She can’t find a date for her own wedding?”

  “I don’t think she’s looked.” Brad sighed. “Are we going to talk about this the whole time?” He was tired of it already, and they’d only been in the restaurant for twenty minutes.

  “No,” Bella said. “What would you like to talk about instead, Mister Smarty-Pants?”

  “Mister Smarty-Pants?” Brad looked at her and started laughing. She joined him, and he felt a measure of happiness that had been missing for a while.

  “How are the kids?” he asked when they quieted.

  “Oh, you know,” Bella said. “Kids. They drive me crazy, but I love them.”

  “Yeah.” Brad nodded. “They were good at the water park a couple of days ago.”

  “And it’s all they’ve been talking about.” His sister smiled at him. “Isn’t Celeste a lot younger than you? Maybe you’ll have some kids of your own.”

  Brad scoffed, because the idea of him and Celeste actually getting married and having children was so high on the ridiculous chart, he couldn’t even see it up there.

  At the same time, he had sudden hope that they would indeed be able to make their relationship work—and that maybe it wasn’t too late for him to be a father.

  Chapter Ten

  “I don’t believe you for a single second, you know,” Gwen said from where she lay on Celeste’s bed. “Alissa says she thinks it’s real, and Olympia said she’s withholding judgement.” Gwen looked away from her phone, expecting Celeste to say something.

  She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to admit out loud that the engagement was a farce, but she didn’t want to lie either.

  “You’re supposed to be helping me pick my outfit for the music festival,” she said, and Gwen rolled her eyes.

  “Fine, be that way.”

  “I will be that way,” Celeste said. “When you ask out Teagan, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me and Brad.”

  “Not you too.”

  “Of course me too,” Celeste said. “We all saw you two last night. He may act like he’s over you, but he’s not.”

  “We never even kissed,” Gwen said. “Never. I wish everyone would butt out of my business.”

  “Oh, you mean how you’ve been butting out of mine?”

  “Celeste.” Gwen got up and took the blouse Celeste was holding in front of her body. “You showed up with a huge diamond and a celebrity. There’s a big difference there.”

  “You knew I was dating him.”

  “You went out with him on Tuesday,” Gwen said. “And showed up engaged on Friday.” She shook her head and rifled through the pile of clothes on the end of the bed, finally pulling out a flimsy blue top. �
��This.”

  “That?” Celeste took it and straightened it out before holding it up. “It does bring out the blue in my eyes.”

  “And you wear a sexy tank top under it, which he can see, and you’ll make him wish this engagement were real.” She looked at Celeste with cocked brows, but Celeste wasn’t going to play her sister’s games.

  “Shoes?” she asked.

  “White sandals,” she said. “Not the wedges. The music festival is on uneven ground.” Gwen flopped back on the bed and picked up her phone. “I would like someone to go out with.”

  “Maybe just try Teagan again.” Celeste sat down on the bed and looked at her sister. “Sweetie, you deserve the best.”

  “And that’s not Teagan, so I wish everyone would just leave me alone about him.” Gwen looked a breath or two away from crying, so Celeste nodded.

  “Okay, I will.”

  “Thank you.”

  She leaned over and hugged her sister. “Thanks for helping me be less fashion challenged.”

  “You’d die without me,” Gwent said.

  “I really would.” Celeste straightened and started getting dressed. “I also think I’m going to go more natural with my makeup today.”

  “Wise,” Gwen said. “It’s about five thousand degrees out there. It’ll all melt off anyway.”

  Celeste groaned, because if there was one thing about the music festival she didn’t like, it was the heat. Oh, and all the cigarette smoke.

  She did go lightly with her makeup, wondering if Brad would notice. When he knocked on the door several minutes later, she opened the door to find him wearing a casual pair of khaki shorts and a button-up shirt in a color of coral she would’ve never picked for him. But he looked delicious enough to eat, and Celeste grinned at him.

  “Wow, don’t you look nice?” he asked. “I like what you did with the makeup.”

  “Less is more, right?” she asked, reaching for her purse. “Ready?”

  “Celeste?” he asked, and she paused on the threshold of the house. “I’ve been meaning to…I mean….” His eyes dropped to her mouth again, and Celeste looked at his lips too.

  She’d thought about kissing him—she wasn’t dead inside. “You didn’t call me after breakfast with your sister,” she said.

  “Yeah, well,” he said, shuffling his feet. “How would you feel if we skipped the music festival and just took a walk down the beach?” He extended his hand toward her.

  Light filled her whole soul. “That would be lovely,” she said, putting her hand in his and leaving her purse in the house.

  He drove down the coastal highway, the silence between them comfortable but also very present. “Was breakfast bad?” she asked.

  “Do you want kids?” he blurted out.

  “Oh, wow,” she said, staring at him fully now.

  “My sister just said some stuff that got me thinking,” he said, glancing at her. “I’ve always thought, well, the last few years I’ve thought I was too old to be a dad.”

  “How old are you?” Celeste asked, thinking she probably should know that about her freaking fiancé.

  “Forty-seven.”

  “Ah. I’m a decade younger than you.”

  “I know, Princess.” He pulled off into a parking lot on the west side of the island, a beautiful stretch of beach before them. He parked and left his shoes in the car. Celeste did the same, slipping her hand into his.

  “Yeah, I want kids,” she said.

  “Mm.” They walked through the hot, squishy sand to the harder, wetter stuff and started walking, nowhere to go and not in any hurry. A breeze came off the water, making the temperatures more bearable. Families and couples and groups of teenagers filled the sand, but the farther they went from the parking area, the less populated the beach became.

  “Celeste, I have to be honest with you.”

  “Okay,” she said, anticipation dancing through her.

  “I’m not sure this fake engagement is going to work out.”

  Her heart beat against fear now. “Why not? I thought it was going well.”

  He paused and looked into the sun arcing down. Sunset was still hours off, but the sky was still beautiful. “Because I have real feelings for you.” He looked at her, and even through their sunglasses, she could see the truth in his eyes.

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” He swallowed. “And maybe this isn’t so fake to me.”

  Celeste tingled from head to toe. “Maybe it’s not so fake to me either.”

  Brad smiled, swept one arm around her waist, and leaned down. “Then I’m going to kiss you for real, okay?”

  She gave a single nod, because she couldn’t find the brainpower to vocalize anything. Her eyes drifted closed, and the breeze played with her hair, and finally Brad’s lips touched hers. He teased. He toyed. And then he finally kissed her like he meant it, taking his time to truly kiss her.

  Celeste matched him stroke for stroke, letting him know that this definitely wasn’t fake to her.

  He broke the kiss several seconds later and rested his cheek against hers. “I like you, Celeste Heartwood. Even when you make me mad, I still like you.”

  She held onto his broad shoulders and enjoyed breathing in and out with him. She finally said, “I like you too, Brad.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “And not just because you’re fun to parade around, though you are.” She smiled at him, glad when he laughed.

  She did too, grateful for his candidness and for simple things like walking on the beach.

  “Yes, hello?” she said into her desk phone. Paige had connected her to the manager for The Living Waters, a woman named Judy. But their connection had been bad the first time, and Celeste had called her back.

  “I can hear you now,” Judy said.

  “Okay, great.” Celeste looked down at her calendar. “I think we’d love to host you at The Heartwood Inn,” she said. “But we have a very limited window during our holiday season. How would December first through the fifth work for you?”

  “We’d love that,” Judy said almost before Celeste had finished speaking. “Let me just check our calendar….” A few seconds went by. “We can make that work.”

  “I have your fee schedule, and we’d love two shows on Saturday, the second, and Sunday, the third, which is seven shows. There’s no price for seven shows.” She loved planning events, and this one would fill a weekend where Heartwood didn’t typically have anything. That first weekend of December was somewhat of a dead zone between Thanksgiving and the Christmas season really ramping up.

  But with The Living Water—a show about the Savior and his birth, which happened to fit in with Christmas really well—on that weekend, the inn could book more rooms at a somewhat slower time.

  Their tree decorating and lighting was always the weekend after Thanksgiving, and the hotel had been booked for that event for months.

  “Four thousand,” Judy said. “If you sell out the pool, you’ll make four times that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Celeste said. “The pool?”

  “Our show involves diving and synchronized swimming,” Judy said. “You have the pool facilities at Heartwood, or I wouldn’t have contacted you.”

  “So this would be an outdoor show?”

  “Yes,” Judy said.

  Celeste couldn’t picture the show in a swimming pool. Surely it wasn’t just any old swimming pool. “And you don’t need anything specific?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe you’d like to come show me what you do.” She clicked on her laptop, though her calendar was already up. “I have some time later this week. Wednesday? Or Thursday, but only before noon that day.”

  “Thursday morning would work,” Judy said. “And there are a couple of links to some videos in the email I sent you.”

  “I’ll look at those,” Celeste said. “I admit I didn’t.”

  “What made you give us a chance then?” Judy asked. “Most people only consider us after seeing the videos.” />
  “I just had a good feeling about you,” Celeste said with a smile. “I’ll see you Thursday.” The call ended, and she stared a new file for The Living Waters. Everything would go in the folder on her computer, and a physical one Paige would file and keep in the office. That way, nothing got missed. Payments were made on time, and contracts could be referenced if necessary.

  Paige knocked and entered. “We’ve got the contracts for Betsy and Joe Harmon,” she said, peeling off the top file folder and handing it to Celeste. “And three proposals for spring shows here at the inn. I told them they were a bit early to be sending stuff in, but here they are.” She passed over the folders. “And your fiancé is waiting out here.”

  “He is?” Celeste tried to look past Paige, but the other woman shifted to block the view.

  “No, he is not.” She sat down, her dark eyes like lasers. “You’re engaged, and you didn’t tell me?” She actually sounded hurt, and regret lanced through Celeste.

  She hadn’t even told her own sister that the engagement was fake. She couldn’t tell Paige and not Gwen.

  “It happened very quickly,” Celeste said. Not a lie.

  “You don’t wear a ring,” Paige pointed out.

  Celeste opened the top drawer in her desk and pulled out the diamond ring. Paige gasped as she passed it over, and she even slid it all the way on her finger. “This is huge.”

  “He’s a former football player,” she said, as if Paige didn’t know who Brad Keith was. They’d had lunch last week, where Celeste had told Paige she was dating Brad—the same thing she’d told Gwen.

  So jumping from that to engagement was a surprise. Even for her.

  “Is this real?” Paige asked, and it took Celeste a moment to realize she was asking about the diamond, not the engagement.

  “Of course it is.” Celeste held out her hand. “Now give it back.”

  “I’ve never been engaged,” Paige said wistfully.

  “That’s because you date losers, like I used to.” Celeste put the ring back in the top drawer. “I think there’s a guy who works here with Brad. Jonas?” Or was it James?