Faking it with #41

by Piper Rayne

  “Mom!” I yell.

  “Come meet me downstairs. I just took Annabelle for a walk around the block because she was getting cranky upstairs. But come down and we’ll walk through Central Park. Surely you don’t mind your mother being part of the memory?”

  I sigh. “Give me five.”

  I hang up and go to the bathroom. After I take a leak, I stare at myself in the mirror while washing my hands. Can I really go through with this? Lena practically hates me most of the time and now she’ll be my roommate? Even if there is some kind of weird sexual tension between us, I’m still not on her list of top ten favorite people. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even make the top one hundred.

  I head down the elevator and find my mom talking with our doorwoman, Anessa. They’re both gushing over Annabelle. That doesn’t really get old—people loving on my daughter. She is the cutest baby in existence.

  “Here he is,” my mom says and gestures in my direction.

  I nod a hello. “Anessa.”

  “I saw the magazines, but I didn’t believe it until your mother told me. Congratulations.” Anessa beams at me.

  She’s been the doorwoman since I was in high school. The condo committee didn’t want a woman outside the building, but my mom took her side and fought to make it happen.

  “Yep, I’m a father now.”

  “And you’ll make a good one.” She winks as though we share a secret.

  We do. We’re both unsure if I can handle this new venture. Anessa saw me in my glory days when my parents were traveling for my dad’s work and I was partying.

  “Thanks.” I nod and smile.

  We stand there for a moment until my mom says, “We should get going. Give this little one her first stroll through Central Park.” My mom covers up the stroller to make sure Annabelle stays warm.

  “Have fun, you two,” Anessa says with a wave.

  Since my parents’ building is directly across from Central Park, we cross the first intersection and enter the park. The leaves have already begun to change into vibrant reds and oranges. A few are sprinkled on the ground. It’s crazy to think that in only a few short weeks, the trees will be bare.

  “She’s never going to remember this,” I mumble, staring at the trees and stuffing my hands in my pockets to warm them.

  “No, but you will. And you can tell her all about it one day. It’s a special time for you.”

  Ever since my mom beat cancer seven years ago, her attitude on life has changed. I don’t know for sure, but I’d bet that was when my parents made the agreement about when my dad would retire. I guess maybe that’s why he’s been pressuring me so hard the past few years to take over the company. Mom’s diagnosis shook our family. Although she survived it after a grueling year, we all realized she’s the glue that holds us all together.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t warn me.”

  She glances at me, guilt in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know it was a shock to you and Lena. Your father asked me to keep it quiet. I wanted to warn you before you went to his office, but I promised him. I wasn’t happy with the suggestion at first either. I worried that you’d run, and I’d never see my granddaughter.”

  I swing my arm over her shoulders, “I’d never take her away from you.”

  She nods. “This is the kind of peace I need in my life.” She glances up again, tears in her eyes. “You and your father have been at odds for so long. Now that you have Annabelle, I want it to stop. I don’t want her to grow up witnessing the arguing and the fighting. You two can barely be in the same room right now.”

  “He’s stubborn.”

  She huffs and swipes at her eyes. “So are you.”

  I take over pushing the stroller, needing something to do. “I don’t want the same thing he does,” I explain for what feels like the billionth time. “I worked hard to get where I am and I’m not going to throw it all away to work in an office every day until I die.”

  “I know. I know.”

  For a moment, all I hear are the leaves crunching under our feet and traffic off in the distance.

  “I know your father’s suggestion isn’t ideal, but it’s an end. Otis Sandersville has traditional family values, and appearance is important to him. All we have to do is convince enough people you and Lena are happily engaged, and eventually people will forget about the past and focus on the amazing future you’re building for yourself and your daughter.”

  “And if Britney comes back?” I ask the one question that sometimes keeps me up at night. Because how will I handle not having Annabelle with me all the time now that I’m used to being her number one? How will I feel if the mother who abandoned her pops back up in her life?

  I understand how tired Britney was. How much taking care of a baby sucks out of you. Especially since before Annabelle came along, we both lived the opposite of how a responsible parent probably should. But she abandoned her daughter. Still, she could have doubts about her decision and return, want partial custody back.

  “Well, that could potentially pose a problem with the plan, but at the same time, it would be good for Annabelle. I guess we play it by ear.”

  Would it be good for Annabelle? I honestly don’t know. I guess if she were back for good. But having a parent pop in and out of her life like a Whack-A-Mole can’t be good for a child.

  We walk a little longer and eventually sit on a bench by the small lake in the park. Ducks gliding across the water leave small wakes behind them.

  “Lena hates me.” I voice the biggest reason I’m not sure this will work.

  “She doesn’t hate you. You aggravate her, for certain. You egg her on all the time. The two of you banter too much.”

  I refrain from telling my mom how turned on our banter gets me. There are some things you don’t tell your mother.

  “Listen.” She places her hand on my thigh. “This plan is one right out of the movies or something, but I’m sure we’re not the first. It’s not as though wealthy families haven’t based marriages on strategic alliances before. And who knows? Maybe something will come of it.” Her eyebrows rise to her hairline.

  “Don’t go thinking Lena is going to change me. I’m not the happily-ever-after type, Mom. You know that.”

  She laughs and puts her head on my shoulder. “One day, every playboy has to retire. Sooner or later, you’ll be too old. I don’t want you to die alone.”

  “Jeez, knife me in the heart, why don’t you? I’m just not looking for an exclusive relationship right now.”

  “And sooner or later, ten years will have passed and you still won’t be committed to anyone. Have you ever thought about what will happen if Britney doesn’t return? Where that leaves Annabelle? I’m sure Imogen and Morgan will help and you’ll always have me, but don’t you want Annabelle to grow up with a mother?” She squeezes my knee.

  “I’m not saying never, but we both know it’s rare for relationships to make it when one of them is a professional athlete. You saw what those bunnies did and said with Lena.”

  “Your two best friends seem to be doing pretty well so far.”

  I shake my head. “We both know how different I am from them.”

  “All I’m saying is you have a daughter now. Whether you like it or not, it changes things.”

  “Well, for the next year, I’m already spoken for, so…” I shrug and she laughs. “I just hope Annabelle doesn’t get too attached and has to adjust when things end.”

  My mom’s smile dims. Making her upset pierces my heart. I really hope she doesn’t cry when Lena and I get divorced. That this isn’t her way of getting me to commit to someone.

  “Well, she’s young. And you and Lena might come out of this as friends. I don’t see Lena just leaving Annabelle high and dry once this is over.”

  I nod because my mom makes sense.

  “But I want my family back, and I’m sorry that it means putting you in a temporarily uncomfortable position, but I’m your mother, so my happiness trumps all.” She laughs and stands.
Mom pulls Annabelle out of the stroller with the blanket, rocking her in her arms while showing her the ducks.

  I watch the two of them together. If not just for myself, I’ll do this for my mom so she can get what she wants.

  “Lena!”

  The sound of my soon-to-be fiancée’s name pulls me from my thoughts. I look over to see her walking toward us.

  “Hi.” She waves. She must’ve come here right from the meeting with my dad. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but she smacks on a pretend smile as she approaches my mom and Annabelle, who are watching the ducks and smiling. “Wait until she can feed them.”

  “I can’t wait. I don’t want to rush it, because this age is precious too, but I can’t wait until she’s walking and talking,” my mom says.

  Lena smiles at my mom. “It’ll be sooner than you think.”

  They both look at my daughter, love lining my mom’s eyes and adoration in Lena’s. At least she likes my daughter.

  “You know what? Her hands are probably cold. I’m going to take her back home.” I move to stand, but my mom shoos me down.

  “You two stay here. We’re perfectly capable of making it back on our own.” Mom runs her nose along Annabelle’s. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Mom,” I say.

  She places Annabelle back in the stroller. “You two have plenty to talk about. See you at home.”

  I watch my mom walk away as Lena comes over, sitting on the edge of the bench as though she’s afraid of me or something. We sit in silence and watch the ducks. There’s a mom and three kids a little ways down. One boy chases the ducks while the mom scolds him to stop. I feel a kinship with that kid. God, if Annabelle pays me back for all the shitty things I did to my parents growing up, I’m gonna have my hands full.

  “So how are you feeling about this?” Lena asks.

  “I don’t really know yet, but I don’t have a choice. You?”

  She nods. “I’m going to go through with it, but I’m worried.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” It’s been on my mind ever since my dad sent me out of his office.

  “Sure.”

  “Does my dad have something he’s hanging over your head? Is that why you agreed to this?”

  She slides back on the bench, crossing her legs. The heel of one of her sensible flats pops off her foot, dangling from her toes. All I can imagine are those pink toes underneath curling in pleasure. I mentally chastise myself. This could be bad if I don’t get my desire under control.

  She shakes her head. “No, he doesn’t have anything on me.”

  “Are you sure? Because for the life of me, I can’t imagine why you’d agree to this.”

  She turns to me. “I could say the same about you.”

  “I’m doing it so he’ll get off my back and to make my mother happy.”

  “Well, let’s just say I need what your dad is offering.”

  “Money?” I say derisively.

  She whips her head in my direction. “You know what I find funny about you, Ford?”

  “What’s that?” I press my lips together.

  “That you have all this money and you’re not embarrassed to spend it, but you judge others for wanting it. It doesn’t matter what your dad is doing for me. I didn’t grow up like you. If your dad retires, I’m out of a job, and I know it’s no concern of yours, but jobs aren’t always easy to find. At least well-paying ones aren’t. I have expenses, so I’m agreeing to marry you in order to have those expenses paid.”

  I’m thrown for a moment, speechless because I feel like a prick. She’s right. I can’t judge her when money has never been an issue for me. I don’t know what that feels like. “You’re completely right. I apologize.”

  She raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Don’t play nice. We can’t pretend this is going to be anything but horrible. We’ll count it down like a prison sentence.” She stands. “See you later and we can talk logistics.”

  I nod. “No kiss goodbye, honey?”

  She narrows her eyes.

  “What do you want your pet name to be? Babe, baby, honey? I’m not sure I can pull off darlin’, but I can try.”

  “You can call me Lena,” she says with a straight face.

  “What’s the fun in that?”

  She blows out a breath like a teacher who’s on her last ounce of patience for the day. “There’s no fun between us. Welcome to hell, Ford.”

  She turns and walks away, and I’m not ashamed that I notice my soon-to-be wife has a killer ass.

  I slide the tape over the last box I have to pack and stare at the room filled with cardboard rectangles. I toyed with keeping the condo, but it seemed ludicrous to pay for an apartment I’ll never be in. After our divorce, I’ll find a new place to live.

  I’d like to say these walls have stories, that they hold memories I’ll never forget, but other than the comfort and safety this place supplied me, the only memories I have are of me coming home, snuggling on the couch, and watching movies by myself. Making dinner for myself. Cleaning the condo by myself.

  Sure, I’ve had a few dates here or there, but my job with the Jacobses is demanding and things change at the last minute all the time. Eventually I just kind of stopped trying to find dates and figured if I meet someone, I meet someone and if not, oh well.

  The movers are coming in the morning, after Mr. Jacobs’ birthday celebration tonight where my engagement to Ford will be announced. He’ll fly out for his next game, and we’ll use the excuse of me moving as the reason why I’m not tagging along. I’ll have to go to most of his games once I’m settled, especially the ones in the Fury arena, but I don’t really mind that part.

  I go into my bedroom, wondering who I’ll be a year from now. Will I even want these things in these boxes? Part of me feels as though I should take a hiatus afterward and go find myself in Europe, South America, or Australia. That sounds nice in principle, but not at all like something I would actually do. I’ll put the money in the bank, earn some interest, maybe look for some really conservative investments to make even more money to ensure I won’t ever find myself without again. But boy, it sure is nice to dream about what I could do with that money if I splurged.

  My dress for tonight hangs in my empty closet. The heels I bought with Imogen two days ago rest on the floor below the garment. I’m so nervous to step out into their world on Ford’s arm. I haven’t heard from my fiancé in the past week, which doesn’t surprise me. We both had our fair share of things to take care of in preparation for tonight.

  A knock on my door surprises me, and I go to answer it. The eighteen-year-old doorman in training, Ricky, stands there holding a box. His cheeks appear red, and the way his gaze keeps darting away from me, I think he’s nervous. He always seems nervous whenever I address him.

  “Hey, Ricky,” I say.

  He holds the box out to me. “This was delivered for you just now.”

  I accept the box, surprised since I purposely didn’t order anything because I won’t be here much longer. I grab some cash from my purse for a tip and hand it over. “Thank you.”

  He nods. “Have a good evening, Miss Boyd.”

  “You too, thanks again.”

  He stays in place, and after an awkward moment, he turns to go to the elevator. The kid looks intimidated every time I have an encounter with him.

  I carry the box to the kitchen counter and open it. The outside just has my name, and the return address is one I don’t recognize. I must’ve forgotten about something I ordered.

  Inside the outer box is a smaller Fleur du Mal box. This has to be a joke. I don’t spend this type of money on underwear. Opening the box, I find a note.

  It all starts with what you’re wearing underneath. ~ Ford

  He did not get me lingerie. I carefully open up the tissue paper to see in fact, yes, he did. A black pair of cheeky lace underwear and a matching bra that will barely contain my nipples rests inside. They’re both sexy and gorgeous.

  As though he knew the pack
age just got delivered, my phone dings and I pull it out of my back pocket to see Ford’s name.

  Ford: Your doorman doesn’t have any fetishes, does he?

  I chuckle.

  Me: He probably likes black lacy things.

  Ford: I take it you got the package?

  Me: I did and it was unnecessary. And probably inappropriate.

  Ford: If we were really together and getting married I’d be buying you lingerie. Trust me. Besides, this is all about appearances.

  I ignore the way his comment makes me feel. I’ve never had a man send me a package before, let alone undergarments. There’s something weird about him knowing what I’m wearing under my dress tonight. I grab the box and head back down the hall.

  Me: No one is going to see me in this. Including you. I’m not sure why it matters.

  Ford: Because you’ll feel more confident.

  I can’t really argue with him. It’s hard to look at these two pieces and imagine not feeling that way.

  Me: Thank you, nonetheless.

  Ford: I’ll pick you up in an hour.

  That’s unexpected. I figured I’d catch a ride over there myself. Mrs. Jacobs is having the party at their penthouse and I assumed Ford was staying there.

  Me: No worries. I’ll catch a cab.

  The three dots appear immediately and I sit on the edge of my bed, waiting for his response.

  Ford: You’re the future Mrs. Ford Jacobs. We don’t do cabs in a cocktail dress. See you in an hour.

  This man… he could put it a lot less smugly.

  Me: I’m actually going to be Ms. Lena Boyd-Jacobs. And sorry. I didn’t think people would care about my transportation.

  I set the phone on the bed and stand because my blood pressure is rising and I no longer feel as though I can sit still. How am I going to live with this man for a year? As I head into the bathroom to turn on the water for my shower, I hear my phone go off again.