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“I—”I don’t have a boyfriend.
I stop myself before completing the sentence aloud.
What if she takes back her offer? She sounds dead set against having me there on my own.
I’m going to regret this,I think, as I close my eyes.
“I—I’ll be sure to bring along my partner, then. I’ll… um… see if he can get the… uh… time off from work.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon.”
I hang up and listen to theclomp, clomp, clompof my grandfather hiking up the stairs from the garage.
When I open the door, he peers at me, his bushy white brows knit together with concern.
“What is it, Love Bug? You look like you’re sick to your stomach. Did you get bad airplane food again?”
“Nope. It’s…er.”
It’s my life.My freaking life.
I try to fix one problem, and I make another.
“It’s… nothing, Grandpa.”
“Good, I hate the thought of you feeling ill, with the wedding coming up. Goodness, it was quiet around here while you were gone. We missed you. What do you say to some tea? We can’t wait to hear about that trip of yours, and Gigi made those pistachio muffins you like.”
Gigi, of course, is my Grandmother Georgia. Her muffins are out-of-this-world good, and I want to tell her all about my two weeks in Italy, too.
“Maybe I could swing by in a couple of hours? I have something to deal with, first. It’s sort of urgent.”
Finding a fake boyfriend so you can save your brother’s wedding counts as ‘urgent’, right? My grandfather seems to be satisfied.
“You bet, Love Bug. The doors always open and I’ll try my darndest not to eat all the muffins.” He laughs and pecks my cheek.
I walk with him down to the garage and then take down a list of groceries that he and Gigi need me to pick up when I’m out.
Back up in my apartment, I kick off my slippers.
It’s time to get out of these PJs and into some actual clothes. I wanted to knock out another segment of myUltimate Guide to Touring Italy’s Best Citieson Footarticle, but that’s going to have to wait. So is eating a tender, fluffy, nutty muffin.
How am I going to find a guy willing to go play the part of my boyfriend for five whole days?
I pull on jeans, tug a sweater over my head and then primp my curls back into place. I can figure this out.
I have to.
Trent’s counting on me.
As I jog down the apartment steps, I dial Maggie.
She may not be talking to my block-headed brother, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll talk to me.
Chapter 4
Cole
I’m paying for the three beers I drank last night.
