Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I glared. “If you’re just going to rub it in, you can leave.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fucking with you. Us imperfect little sisters of Lizzie The Golden have to stick together. Some of us don’t shit nuggets of pure gold and charm out for everybody we meet to gubble up.”
That earned a grin from me. “My feet smell, too.”
“You mean little puffs of perfumed air don’t woosh out of your shoes when you take them off after work? What?”
We both laughed. Lizzie was our big sister, and even if we loved her, it was impossible not to be annoyed after a lifetime of living in her shadow. She graduated top of her class in high school and was homecoming queen. She was a cheerleader and student council president. Even worse, she refused to flame out after high school. She went on to play soccer at a division one school, earn a Master’s degree in business, and date all the hottest guys. People just loved Lizzie. They were always too busy being dazzled by her looks and her big, gravity-defying perky boobs that were still refusing to droop even in her early thirties.
My leading theory was she’d struck a deal with the devil. Maybe on her thirty-seventh birthday, she would just poof into flames, or something. It was honestly the only explanation. And if she didn’t go up in flames, I hoped she would at least get a pesky wrinkle right in the middle of her forehead or something.
“Seriously, though,” Steph said. “Just tell everybody you two broke up. You can pretend you’re staying away from each other during the wedding shit because you’re pissed at each other. Easy.”
“No. If Mom and Dad think I’m single for my sister’s wedding, they’re totally going to play matchmaker. They might even invite someone and try to pawn him off on me all week. Like that Landon guy. Remember him?”
“The one from the family reunion with the Star Wars t-shirt?”
“Yes. He told me my nose was beautiful. Who says that? Serial killers or creeps. That’s who.”
Steph reached out and stroked my nose while pretending to moan in ecstasy.
I slapped her hand away, grinning. “Not as creepy as you, at least,” I added.
“Does Dean know this is going to happen? Like, does he know your family is going to be there?”
“No. But I’m guessing he knows we’re both going to be at the same conference the week before the wedding, too. That’s two weeks of pretending. Week One we have to play the happy couple in front of our co-workers and bosses at the conference in Asheville. Week Two we have to ramp up the stakes and do it in front of family at the wedding venue in Colorado. It’s a freaking disaster, Steph.”
“A disaster you orchestrated because you’re too chicken-shit to tell Mom and Dad you’d rather choke on a bag of dicks than date guys like Landon, you mean?”
I folded my arms. “You know I can’t break their hearts like that.”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. But you can lie to their faces, right?”
“Only to protect their feelings!”
Steph sat back, clutching her coffee in both hands while she tucked her bare feet beneath her. “Okay, here’s what I think you should do.”
“This should be good,” I said.
“How about you just embrace it? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
I stared. Hadn’t she learned the lesson about not asking that question? “Well, let’s see,” I said, voice laced with sarcasm. “My boss could figure out I lied about being in a relationship with Dean. That would be bad.”
“What? Why would he even care?”
“Because I kind of used Dean as an excuse to miss work a few times?”
Steph grinned. “Okay. So your boss gets a little peeved. Big deal.”
“Mom and Dad could figure out I’ve been lying to them about Dean. Best case, they don’t really care but now start shoving some other guy down my throat. Worst case, I break their hearts and they never love me again.”
Steph rolled her eyes. “Well, you won’t agree to break up with your fake boyfriend, so it sounds like you’re just going to have to risk it, aren’t you? Actually, you should text him right now. Ask if he’s ready to fake the crap out of your relationship in a few days at this conference.”
I lifted my phone. “You know what? I think I will.” I typed out something similar to that, unable to stop myself from admiring the picture he’d sent six long months ago. I’d never texted him after that, and those two lines–both actually written by Dean–were our only communication.
I set the phone down with a click on the glass coffee table. “There. I asked him. I’m sure it’ll be a few–”
My phone vibrated.
I snatched it up and read with Steph leaning over my shoulder. “What did he say?” she asked.