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“Hey now,” I say playfully. “You might just pick up another work girlfriend for your brother at this thing.”
“Fuck that. I’ll pretend I’m drunk and start crying about how much it sucks to have herpes, how ‘bout that?”
My full-throated laugh feels good. Ben has always been the quieter of the Hogan brothers, but I’ve always liked his dry sense of humor.
“His assistant better not be at this dinner,” I say, sighing softly.
“She won’t.”
“No?”
“I took care of it.”
I look at his profile. He has the same strong jawline as his brother and the same brown eyes and dark hair. Ben usually has scruff on his face but he’s clean shaven for the wedding. They both have broad shoulders. I knew Ben well when we were younger, but since he went to Penn State to play hockey and then signed with the Colorado Coyotes, I haven’t seen as much of him. Somehow, though, I know he hasn’t changed.
“Did you know?” I ask him, needing an answer.
He turns to me, his brows lowered. “Absolutely not, Stella. I wouldn’t have let the wedding go on without telling you if I knew.”
I nod. “Do you know of anything else he’s done that he shouldn’t have?”
He faces forward again, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”
A tight knot forms in my chest. We both know the real questions I’m asking here. How long was I blind to his bad behavior? How many years did I waste with someone who didn’t love me the way I loved him?
“Yes, you are. You know what I’m asking.”
He exhales heavily. “I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve never had a serious relationship. I’m not the one to ask.”
“This is my life, Ben. I don’t think I can marry him tomorrow, even though that means...” My throat tightens. “I’ll have to tell my mom why. So I’m not asking as a jealous woman, but just as a pragmatic matter, to help with this decision, has there been anything else? Anything that you, if you were in a relationship, wouldn’t do?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” He blows out another breath. “Flirting. Touching. Buying drinks for women when we’re out. Talking about women he thinks are hot. Comments about waitresses. Getting lap dances at clubs.”
I nod, tucking the information away. “Thank you. I promise it’ll stay between us.”
“I don’t care if you tell him I told you.”
We’re pulling into the parking lot for the rehearsal dinner restaurant, and Claire is waiting outside on a bench. She’s running toward Owen’s car before Ben even gets it parked, looking like she might take a spill on her high heels at any moment.
“What now?” I mutter.
Claire motions for Ben to unlock the car as soon as it’s parked, and she slides into the backseat.
“Hey,” she says in a tone I know all too well. “I have a contingency plan for your consideration.”
I turn around and give her a confused look. “Because I need more drama in my life right now?”
“Just listen. I made some calls. I assume you and Owen got a marriage license?”
“We had to, yes.”
“So the officiant and witnesses would be required to sign it after the ceremony, but if there’s no license, there’s nothing for them to sign, and there’s no marriage.”
I laugh, unamused. “You want me to get up there with Owen—and his black eye—and go through the ceremony, then pretend we lost the license so I’m not legally married to him?”
Her eyes sparkle, reminding me of her plans for the Great Wine Heist of 2015, which almost got us kicked out of college. “No, fuck Owen. I want you to get up there with Ben, go through the ceremony, I’ll take the fall for losing the license, your mom will be happy and no one will be married.”
She grins and does jazz hands. I look at Ben, dumbfounded.
“It’s not any different than him playing Owen for the rehearsal dinner,” Claire says.
It’s a lot different. I’d have to stand up in front of my friends and family, in the dress I planned to marry Owen in, and...pretend to marry Ben.
I’m about to dismiss Claire’s craziest idea yet—which is saying a lot—when Ben says, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
It takes me a couple of seconds to come up with any words. “You’d do that?”
“For you...I mean, you’d be doing it for your mom, but yeah, of course.”
My mom. My eyes flood with tears when I picture her. It means everything to me that she has peace in her final days, and I don’t want to break her heart with the truth about Owen tomorrow any more than I do today.
“Can we pull this off?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Absolutely,” Claire proclaims.
I lock eyes with Ben, who gives me an encouraging smile. “Hey, a couple of years ago, my mom mistook me for Owen after having one too many eggnogs on Christmas Eve.”
