Page 29

Clearly, though, Brielle got what she wanted from me—that necklace, along with many other jewelry pieces, a whole closet of designer clothes, and a new car. Then she found herself a man who would willingly father a child. At least Brielle had the decency to return her eight-carat engagement ring so I could sell it back to the jeweler.

“And it’s nice to see you with someone.” My ex’s overly sweet voice snaps me back to the parking lot.

“Oh, we’re…” Willow looks from Brielle to me, her eyes narrowing.

It’s almost comical, how easy it is to read Willow’s emotions. It’s as if they’re projected onto a screen—surprise morphing into understanding before settling on determination.

She steps in front of me, using her body as a shield. As if her lithe frame could protect me when I can see clearly over her head.

“We’re actually…” She pauses, glancing back. Willow searches for a defining label before her expression brightens like someone handed her a basket of baby bunnies. “We’re getting married. Yup. That’s why I’m crying. Tears of joy. Overabundant tears of pure delight. I cried so hard when Shane asked me that I’ll probably need to eat a jar of pickles after this to replenish my sodium.”

A startled sound chokes out of me.

“I know you didn’t want to tell anyone yet.” Willow leans into me. “But we can let our old friend Brielle in on our happiness, can’t we?”

When I don’t say anything, Willow collects my limp hands, wraps them around her stomach, and smiles brightly at Brielle. “You know the feeling when your chest feels like it’s full of helium? Take that happiness and put it on steroids. But not, like, real steroids, because Shane would never do that. That’s super illegal, and even though Shane looks like a mafia boss, he’s—”

“Willow,” I bend down, murmuring her name over her ear.

“Yeah?”

When she turns her face, my breath hitches. With her back pressed against my front and her head tilted up, her lips are mere millimeters from mine.

“She gets the idea,” I say, voice gruff.

“Are you sure?”

I tighten my arms, splaying one hand over her rib cage. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, okay.” Her breathy words poke tiny pinholes in my common sense.

It’s obvious that Willow has no idea who Brielle is, or that by pretending to be my fake fiancée, she’s just dug her multicolored nails into an old bruise. But…by doing so, Willow is also making this first interaction with Brielle exponentially easier. My ex will eventually find out that we’re lying, but hopefully, I won’t be present when she does. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Brielle—maybe I can make it another year…or two.

My stomach twists into an uncomfortable knot as I grind my teeth.

Willow’s eyes tick to my jaw before returning to mine, narrowing in concentration. Then her lips lift into a mischievous smile.

“Sorry for rambling, but I just can’t wait to be your wife.”

A breath puffs out of me as I instinctively tighten my grip. “My wife?”

I expect the descriptor to taste like ash with Brielle standing nearby, but it rolls off my tongue.

Willow nods, one corner of her mouth tipping higher.

I feel like I’m two days late to a complex game of chess, but I finally understand that selling Willow’s lie is a vital means to an end.

Which is…insane.

All of this is absolute madness.

Since playing a part in this farce is completely out of character for me, I need to approach this like I do baseball—one hundred percent, full effort, no exceptions.

“I can’t imagine a greater honor than becoming your husband.” Though I hadn’t meant to, my voice comes out in a heartfelt rasp.

Willow’s eyes widen, like I’ve stunned her, before that little smirk returns. “What should our first step as husband and wife be?”

I dip my chin until our noses almost brush. “Whatever my beautiful bride wants.”