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Stella races in and talk about being displeased. She’s ready to murder me and then throw my lifeless body in the dumpster out back. “Girl, I’m going to have to sanitize my bar now. You’re barefoot and wearing the scrubs you no doubt wore to work in thehospitaltoday.”
I glance down at my light green scrubs and bare feet. Yeah. That’s pretty gross now that I think about it.
I look back at my friend contritely. “Sorry. I’ll do it. I promise. I’m getting down now.”
“Much appreciated.” She takes the seat beside her grandmother and then scrunches her face up in disgust. “Why do you always insist on drinking lemon drops?” Her mouth puckers reflexively.
“Because I know you won’t drink them and that way I can drink yours,” I reply honestly, sitting on the bar and swinging my legs to and fro.
“This is that bad, huh?” Stella checks with Octavia.
Octavia holds her hand up. “She wouldn’t tell me anything, but considering how I found her, I’m going to assume the answer is yes.”
Stella squints at me. “If you tell me you’re back with Patrick, I’m going to shave your head and eyebrows in your sleep and then glue the hair to your face so it looks like a mustache and a biker beard.”
I choke on my sip of lemon drop, some of it going down the wrong pipe, and I hack out half a lung until it’s cleared. When I can breathe normally again, I glare. “Are you kidding me with that? You had to say that while I was drinking? Are you trying to kill me?”
“If you’re back with Patrick, I am.”
I roll my eyes at my friend. “I’m not back with Patrick. Loser can spread his cooties to someone else’s cookie because he isn’t getting access to mine again.”
“Ladies,” Octavia cuts in smoothly. “While this is a scintillating conversation and I too am glad to hear you’re not back together with Patrick, can we stop talking about men spreading cooties to your cookie?”
I snort out a laugh and so does Stella because Octavia just repeated that.
“Absolutely, Grandma. That was all Layla being gross. Not me.”
I smack Stella’s shoulder. “Suck-up.”
She gives me a cheeky grin. “Will you finally tell us why we’re here?”
“Let’s just wait for Meils to—”
“I’m here.” Amelia comes rushing in and locks the door behind her. “I couldn’t find a fucking—er, freaking parking spot. Sorry, Octavia.”
Octavia is not a fan of cursing—or using obscure euphemisms for that matter—but quickly waves her away.
“What’s up?” Amelia speed walks to us. “Spill it because I have like an hour, tops before I have to go and pick up the girls from a playdate. Oliver is working late tonight.”
I gulp down the rest of my martini because these puppies flow like Niagara down my throat. “Callan Barrows asked me to move in with him and be his fake fiancée.”
I get a lot of owl eyes pinned on me.
“You’re joking, right?” Amelia questions, awkwardly and uncomfortably smiling like I’m pulling a prank. “I mean, you’re punking us or whatever?”
“Um. No,” I reply, lifting Stella’s drink since we all know she won’t touch it. “And you really need to get over your Ashton Kutcher obsession because that show ended like twenty years ago.”
My sister is not amused. Her face is turning as red as her hair. “Layla, you cannot be telling me that he actually asked you to be his fake fiancée when you know about how Oliver and I got together.”
“Except he did. You all know that he lost his brother and has been taking care of his niece. Well, he’s filed for custody, which is amazing of him, and all was going well, but Katy—that’s the little girl—is struggling. She and I hung out a bit this week and bonded a little, and then the other day she ran away from camp so that she could come to the hospital and find me even though I wasn’t actually there yesterday, but she didn’t know that. Anyway, his sister-in-law’s parents, who are already after the life insurance money that goes to the little girl, are now petitioning for custody because they weren’t going far with winning the money. They’re saying he’s unsafe, which is total BS in my opinion. He’s planning to fight this obviously, but it doesn’t look good that he’s single and so he asked me to be his fake fiancée both so I can spend time with Katy and help her out and also help him win guardianship by making his homelife appear more stable.”
I blow out a breath since that was longwinded as hell and then sit back a bit on the bar, waiting on them.
“Wow. That’s…”
I nod at Stella. “Some stuff, yes.”
“Wait.” Stella throws her hand up in the air, tilts her head, and then goes around the bar and grabs a bottle of Jameson 18 because that’s how she rolls. She pours herself a shot but doesn’t drink it. Instead, she holds it out in the air and asks, “Is this like already a done deal?”
