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“First, I need Daisy to confirm she’s dating this hippie doctor.”
Noah snorts.
“Yes, Aunt Annette.” It’s not the first time I’ve lied to my family, but the last time I lied to Aunt Annette, I was sixteen and cheating at cards. I feel worse about it now. “Noah and I are dating.”
“Congratulations.” Aunt Annette raises her voice like a game show host. “You’ve made your family very happy. Particularly your mother, because Henrietta Weston is the winner of the Daisy and the hippie doctor dating pool. The game is officially over.”
“Thank you, Aunt Annette.” Clover lowers the phone and puts it closer to her mouth. “We’ll call you when we come up with the next bet.”
“Good. This time I’m taking ten percent off the top for all the hard work I put in. I’ve got to get to work. Have a good day, girls.”
We all say goodbye and tell her we love her. Then Clover hangs up and slides the phone into her leggings’ pocket.
And my sisters go to their rooms like that’s it, that’s the end of the conversation.
“Guess they approve.” Noah’s grin makes it clear he’s enjoying this. He’s feeling none of the loneliness I am.
Is it because I know he’ll never really be mine? Or because my sisters kept this secret from me for weeks?
Honestly, I’m feeling a bit trapped. How did my sisters see how I feel about Noah? And how were they so wrong about what he feels for me? Because I know, with every bone in my body, that beautiful, smart, sweet Noah would never choose me. He proved that when he so quickly and easily agreed to annul our ill-planned Vegas wedding.
I swallow back those sad thoughts. This fake engagement is my idea and, when Noah loses and realizes I’m right about my un-dateability, I’ll be cured once and for all of any lastingdreams I have of us as a couple. “Let’s get breakfast.” I slip out from under his arm. “I’m starving.”
∞∞∞
Noah has been staring at the menu for what feels like forever and I’m getting bored. It’s not like I need to be entertained all the time, but I forgot to bring my e-reader and I dropped my phone plan to like five minutes because I’m saving for my imminent move back to New York.
Plus, the inane pop music we listened to on the way over here is playing on repeat in my brain like a parasite. “How can you be so brilliant and have such terrible taste in music?”
Noah doesn’t even glance up. He’s heard me complain about his musical preferences before. “How can you appreciate the art of great literature and not of pop music?”
He continues staring at the menu, and my stomach growls with hunger.
I catch the server’s eye from the other side of the small diner and he walks over with a smile broken only by an uncertain glance at Noah. “You two ready to order?”
“Yes,” I say at the same time Noah says, “Not quite.”
“He’s ready.” I give the server a warm smile, but it doesn’t seem to set him at ease. “He’ll have the egg white veggie omelet with wheat toast, and a side of fruit.”
Noah shuts his menu and narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t argue.
“And for you?” The server clearly senses the tension, based on the step back he takes from the table.
“I’ll have the blueberry pancakes, extra syrup, and a side of blueberries.”
The server glances at Noah expectantly, but Noah doesn’t say a word. “Great.” The server closes his notepad and walks away.
“Since when do you order for me?”
“I was bored.” I fiddle with my napkin to avoid seeing censure in his eyes. “And we both know you were going to stare at that menu for another five minutes, then order exactly what I ordered for you.”
“Maybe I want cheese in my omelet today. Or an English muffin instead of toast.”
“Do you?”
“Not the point.” His voice is dangerously low and rough. “You’re cheating.”
I gasp. “I do not cheat, Noah Brooks, and you know it. Besides, we just got together last night. When would I have had time to cheat?”
