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I snort. “Um, yeah. Let’s see. I break up with my boyfriend, who convinces me to say it was mutual. Said ex-boyfriend then whores it up in New York and makes me look like a lovesick fool—something I wanted to avoid since he already did a fan-fucking-tastic job of that when we were dating. Oh, then said douche-canoe releases a video that he claims is me having sex with him to win him back.”
Bile rises to my throat, and I swallow it down.
Garrett’s hands clench into fists at his sides. It’s not the first time he’s heard the story. We hashed it out in the car ride on the way here.
“Then I’m told to lie low, and what’s my response? Oh yeah. I get drunk, marry my best friend, and bang his brains out until we both pass out!”
“We still don’t know about that last part,” he says.
“We don’t know that we didn’t, either,” I spit back at him.
“So? What are you saying? You want to stay married to me? You want us to stay married?”
It sounds ridiculous when he says it, but this could be a win-win. I get fewer headlines—let’s face it, I’m going to get some with this impromptu wedding—but maybe I can help show him that dating isn’t a hassle. That he can find love and have his career.
Evie! They’d be perfect for each other!
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“What’s with that look?” He looks nervous.
“What look?” I bite my lip and try to hold back the smile that threatens.
“The look that has always meant trouble.”
“Pffft. No trouble. We could both benefit from us being married, is all.”
“What do you mean? What are you going to get out of being married to me?” He looks skeptical.
“I can help you find your Ms. Right,” I tell him.
“What?”
“Garrett, you’re my oldest friend. I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” he argues.
“Happ-ier then.”
“And that’s what you get out of us being married?” He arches an eyebrow as he looks at me.
“No, that’s for you,” I say.
“So, what’s in this wedding for you?”
“I need your help.”
“With?” A muscle ticks in his jaw, just under the layer of stubble that roughens his cheeks.
“Um.” Why is my body suddenly turning traitor and thinking thoughts like what that stubble would feel like on the inside of my thighs?
“With what, Ames?” The deeper tenor of his voice draws my attention to his eyes. The hazel in them is more blue than green today.
I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. “To get a role. The role. I auditioned for it before Tu—Fucker and I broke up.”
I love his nickname for Tucker and plan on using it from now on.
A smile quirks his lips but fades just as fast.
