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No one. How depressing is that? It’s real work to keep the tone from my voice. “Ah … the Kilpatricks?”
Émile’s mom and dad exchange looks. Somehow. Because their faces don’t change much from their current expressions, but I’m definitely getting the feeling of being judged. Well done to them for making me feel so small with so little effort.
Émile steps closer to wrap his arm around me. “He’s my boyfriend,” he says before turning a sappy look on me. “And I love himverymuch.”
The intimate way his words dip, the eye contact, the way his cologne fills my nose, makes it really, really hard to remember this is all fake. The horrible ripples of happiness that pass through me aren’t real. Because none of this is. For an actor, I’m being ridiculously obtuse about a little thing calledacting.
So I steel myself and take a page out of Émile’s book by booping him on the nose. Heat flares in his eyes, a reminder of the real moments we shared together, and it makes it so much easier to say, “Love you, too, snuggle bug.”
Chapter 15
Émile
“And who is this?”
My entire being stiffens at the voice, even as I do my best not to show any reaction. The knot that grows between Christian’s eyebrows proves I wasn’t quite successful, so I force a cheery demeanor and turn to my gran. “Grandmother, I’m so glad you’re here!” And because I’ll likely rethink and reevaluate the insanity of this entire plan if I leave it too much longer, I turn to Christian, take both his hands in mine, and sink onto one knee.
My heart is in my bloody throat, which makes next to no sense. We both know this means nothing, but the weight pressing down on my shoulders is trying to counteract that thought. Talking and scheming is one thing, but this is … this is …
I glance up into Christian’s warm stare and somehow that drains the stress from the room, and I’m able to focus on him and me and the bigger picture of this entire plan.
My shoulders square and I reach in to pull out the ring.
I’m well aware of the hush that’s fallen around us, I’m simply struggling to give a shit. The words come easily.
“I know our relationship may have started by, uh, unconventional means, but you’re the greatest person who’s ever come into my life. Good, selfless, kind toward helpless men such as myself.” One corner of his lips pulls upward, a cheeky glimpse into him reading my mind. It might be overstated, but nothing I’m saying is a lie. “Would you do me the immense pleasure of becoming my husband?”
And so help me, that clever shit draws a shaky breath and a tear hits his cheek. “Yes. Oh my god,yes.”
I launch to my feet, slip the ring on his finger, and pull him in for a hug.
Christian chuckles somewhere around my ear and says, “How’s that for acting?”
“I think I just fell in love with you.”
He snorts and we draw back, immediately surrounded by family wanting to offer their congratulations. And as much as I try to stop it, my gaze drifts toward Gran. Her eyes have emptied of warmth and the coldness radiating from them makes it evident why so many people are afraid of her.
Her gaze cuts to Mom who—for once in her life—looks taken by surprise. Eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them go as she processes the situation, but before I get a chance to marvel at a real human emotion gracing her, Clifford cuts off the sight.
“Congratulations.” He holds out a hand, lips twisting as his gaze strays to Christian. “Interesting choice, but I suppose the pickings are slim for a queer.”
I squeeze his hand a little too tight. “Far greater pool to choose from than men with no personality who look like an egg, but thank you for your concern.”
He leers. “Imagine being so self-deluded that you see real love where there are only grubby money paws.” He tries for asympathetic look that only makes me want to check he’s not stroking out. He drops his voice so the people around us won’t hear. “I know what you’re doing.”
“No idea what you mean.”
“Suppose it has nothing to do with Pa’s will then, huh? Martha’s family is in oil.Oil, Emmy.” His gaze flicks to Christian. “What does your boy do? Offer cleaning services? Lap dances?”
Christian clears his throat. “Actually, my family made averygood cryptocurrency investment.”
Clifford actually throws back his head and laughs. “I should have guessed.” He cuffs us both on the shoulder. “Good luck with it all, boys.”
My teeth are grinding as he leaves.
“What a twat,” Christian spits, and that’s all it takes to relax me again. “I can see why you don’t like the guy.”
He’s right. The whole situation is one revolting mess and I’m playing a part in it. The propriety is so ingrained in us that I can’t even tell Clifford to go to hell when he’s being—as Christian said—a fucking twat. Just once I wish I could break free of all this. I’m yearning for the day. Once I have the money and work out what to do with it, I’ll be able to move on and actually live my own damn life. No more playing nice.
