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“We’ve invited Darcy Ritcherson to the lunch we’re having this week and seeing as you’re not currently working, there’s no reason why you can’t attend.”
“I’ll have to see how my schedule looks. Planning a charity event is no easy task.”
“I’m sure you’ll find the time.”
Well, lucky me. A lunch with my family and someone who’s apathetically waiting on me to propose. Elle and I exchange a look and she widens her eyes pointedly at my phone on the table. I know she’s telling me to check it. To see if Christian’s messaged back. And look at that, she’s suddenly on board if there’s an actual chance she’ll end up with Darcy as a brother-in-law.
But what are the chances he would have messaged back during dinner when he hasn’t bothered to send me a text since I got home? It’s beenhours. I at least thought he’d have the decency to turn me down with anI’m sorryfuck.
I guess all that talk about wanting to see me again was bullshit.
Or … maybe he actually has a life.
I hiccup a laugh at how stupid I’m being over one man. A man I barely know, even if he is the most adorable sweetheart in a sexy package.
“Something amusing?” Dad asks.
“I don’t understand this fixation on Darcy.”
“He’s … like you.” That’s probably the most diplomatic way my father could sayyou’re the only gays we know.“And he’s set to inherit an entire media empire.”
Gay and money. Fucking hell. Even if Christian does do this, I’m not sure his family’s fast hit of new money can compete with all that.
I try to picture him here, sitting at the table beside me, knocking over the salt and using his cutlery with the wrong hands. Eating his soup with the dessert spoon.
It’s ridiculous how much I yearn to see that.
“You know what? Maybe I will come to this lunch. I have someone I’d like to bring, actually.”
My facedown phone is boring a hole in my brain though. I try to convince myself there’s nothing there. He hasn’t texted. I’m going to pick it up and be disappointed. All through dinner it has me so distracted thatI’mthe one who almost upends my water glass, but somehow I make it through without checking.
Dinner wraps up with more threats of Darcy and lunches and “you’ve known each other your whole lives, stop making that man wait” but Mom’s words fade away. The second I slide my phone from the table and see an unknown number on my display, my stomach fills with goddamn butterflies. I forget about politeness as I swipe the message open and see two little words.
I’m in.
My mood immediately lifts as I look up and say, “I’m beyond excited for this lunch. I think it’s going to beverybeneficial.”
Chapter 12
Christian
“Just how hard did you hit your head?” Gabe asks, swinging back and forth on my desk chair. “Like, is it possible that ice sculpture gave you a concussion?”
My loud laugh fills the room. “You’re such a dick. It’s been days. This is going to be fine.”
“Right. You’re going to be fine with the show opening coming up, as you juggle a bazzilionaire fake husband or whatever.”
“Urg, don’t remind me.”
After Rush told me who Émile is and I spent the afternoon looking him up, my head had been spinning. We’d all gotten on the rum—thank you, Madden—and spent way too many hours combing through photos and videos of the Cromwell family. It feels like some kinda reality TV shit to me, and the thought of living that kind of life doesn’t feel real.
I learned more about Émile in one afternoon than I’d probably learn about anyone during an entire lifetime. It was around the time we were halfway into the bottle of Captain Morgan that I’d pulled out my phone and agreed to do this. I alsogot overexcited and spilled about the fake wedding, which they all thought was hilarious before an argument broke out over who get to be groomsmen.
Maybe not my finest moment, but somehow I woke up with no regrets and a text from Émile inviting me to a family lunch.
I haven’t stopped pacing, worrying about screwing this up for him. “Do you have any rich clothes?”
Gabe looks back at me blankly. “Richclothes?”
