My Unexpected Christmas Wedding
Autor
Rachael Stewart
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CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU WANT TO tell me what’s going on, Adie?’
The man in question rakes an unsteady hand through his dark blond hair, the carefully groomed locks returning to their swept-back state as his tormented gaze flits to me. He smiles, but it’s small and out of step with the sadness still lurking in his vibrant green eyes. A sadness that’s swept through me too.
Why is it that I feel everything this man does? It’s a connection that runs far deeper than anything else I’ve ever known, and we’ve had it all our lives. Best friends since birth, thanks to the friendship our mothers formed on the maternity ward.
And now he’s here, like this.
Aiden Monroe. Infamous billionaire and infallible too. Head of Monroe Wealth Management, with a face as instantly recognisable as my own but in very different circles.
I’m an opera singer, renowned in my field. I don’t have his wealth, but I have his media appeal, and that makes our meeting potential fodder for the press. Something I’m not prepared to deal with right now.
We’ve fended it off in the past, the gossip, the rumours, but coming off the back of a recent break-up, messy in the eyes of the press, I’m in no mood for it. Only... Aiden isn’t infallible right now, and that far outweighs my concern for the rumour mill.
His eyes are bloodshot and shadowed. The grooves either side of his lips cut deep beneath the fashionably short beard. I haven’t seen him in a year—a year—and to see him like this...
My hands itch to reach for him but I keep my distance. Even in our discreet corner of the hotel bar, I don’t dare move closer. For many, many reasons. My heart being one, our notoriety being another.
This is Milan, and this hotel is as exclusive as they come, but it doesn’t mean a hungry reporter won’t have found a way in, or a bystander won’t take the opportunity to snap a surreptitious pic on their phone.
‘You’re the only one to ever call me that.’
‘What?’ I say, losing track of the conversation.
‘Adie...or any other pet name, for that matter.’
The minor fact shouldn’t elate me, but my heart revels in it regardless. ‘Is it a problem?’
‘No.’
He laughs into his glass, takes a swig of the dark and amber liquid. Whisky, at a guess. No ice. Another thing out of Aiden step.
‘Not at all.’
‘Good.’
I feel relieved. I don’t know why. It’s not like it matters. We’ve been friends for thirty-five years and will continue to be friends for evermore. But there’s an edge to him tonight...an edge that I can’t get my head around.
And I normally know this man—better than I know myself at times.
He falls quiet again, no explanation forthcoming, and I sip at the gin and tonic he ordered before I got here. Give him the time he needs even though I’m driving myself half-mad trying to second-guess what’s going on.
‘I hope I chose right?’ He gestures to the drink in my hand. ‘I wasn’t sure, but it’s a single, not a double. I knew that much.’
His voice trails off, and his uncertainty is as worrying as the rest of him. I take in his state of dress—shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie slackened as though he was part-way to stripping it off entirely and forgot. Aiden’s never undone, never unsure.
‘It’s fine, thank you.’ I bite my lip, then, ‘You’re not, though...’
He holds my gaze for a breath-stealing second, a moment when I wonder if he will say anything at all, before, finally...
‘What gave me away?’
‘What didn’t?’
He gives a soft huff. ‘How long’s it been, Elena?’
Not the response I wanted, not the one that gets me any closer to the bottom of this, but...
‘Since we last saw one another?’
A year, one month, two weeks and three days, but who’s counting?
Our longest time apart. I’ve been on tour and he’s... Well, he’s been Aiden. A billionaire workaholic with a sister and a mother to worry over and a global enterprise to lead, making money for others while investing in medical research that can never bring his father back but may save many more.
Is there anything this man does that doesn’t make my heart soft, my knees weak...?
I adjust my skirt, smooth it down even though the fabric is smooth enough already. I’m fidgeting, and if I’m not careful he’ll pick up on that too, and know he has me on edge. And I don’t want to be. We’re best friends. He shouldn’t put me on edge... It’s my own feelings that are doing that. Feelings that I can’t control or suppress, and not through a lack of trying.
‘About a year.’
He nods slowly, swirls the drink in his hand as he eyes the mini whirlpool he creates. ‘Your mum’s birthday party.’
I give a small smile. He remembers.
He’s stressed, not losing his memory, Elena!
‘Her sixtieth,’ I say, ignoring the inner scorn. ‘Though she still thinks she’s twenty-one...’
‘Don’t they all?’ He throws back more of his drink, gives a wince and gestures to the bartender for another.
I frown. I don’t like this one bit. I rarely drink much, if at all. In my line of work vocal cords are sacred and alcohol is the devil. But Aiden rarely hits it hard either—not like this.
‘Come on, Adie, what’s going on?’
He drags his gaze back to me, takes an unsteady breath. ‘It’s Mum.’
My heart sinks. ‘Margot...?’
‘She’s sick.’
A chill spreads through my limbs...my gut rolls. ‘How sick?’
Though I know the answer well enough...
‘Very.’ He takes another breath that shudders through his broad frame, the hand around his empty glass trembling as he sets it down. ‘Cancer. Stage Four.’ He shakes his head. ‘And you know what makes all of this so much worse...?’
It’s rhetorical. He doesn’t need my answer and I wouldn’t be able to give one. My throat is too choked up with his pain, his news.
‘I’ve spent millions over the years investing in hospitals, research centres, doing the only thing in my power to try to save others, but my own mother... I feel so damn helpless. I can’t...’
He fists his hand and strikes it side-down against the polished wood, swiftly, repeatedly, silently fighting the force of emotion within, and I forget my need for self-preservation as I reach out.
‘Oh, Adie.’ I cover his hand with mine. ‘I’m so sorry.’
His anguished gaze flits to me, his throat bobs. ‘She underwent experimental treatment over the summer, but...’
‘The summer?’ I lean closer. ‘But that was months ago. Why didn’t you ring me? Why didn’t you—?’
‘You were touring. I didn’t want to interrupt.’
‘But this is your mother—this is Margot!’ A second mum to me. And the idea that she is suffering, that she might not have long... I swallow the lump in my throat. ‘Does my mum know?’
‘No. No one does. Save for me, the doctors, and now Avery.’
‘Now Avery?’
‘We didn’t tell her at first.’
‘At first—? How could you not? She’s your sister...’
His eyes collide with mine and he retracts his hand, breaking the physical connection as he leans back in his seat. ‘How’d you think?’
‘But something like this...you can’t...’
‘It was losing Dad that sent her off the rails in the first place.’
‘But she was a child, a teenager. She’s a grown adult now. You can’t protect her from everything, and something as important as this...’
‘Now you sound like Gabe.’
‘So Gabe knows? You missed him off your need-to-know list...’
I throw back more of my drink, try to suppress the sting of it, the sting of his retraction too... And for Gabe to know and not me...
‘I needed his help over the summer.’
‘What kind of help?’
‘To give Avery a job—keep her away while Mum underwent surgery.’
‘And he was okay with that? All the secrecy, I mean?’
‘No.’
There’s more he’s not telling me and he turns away, his eyes distant, his head elsewhere...
‘They’re together.’
It takes me a second to register that he’s spoken, another to say, ‘Who? Who’s together?’
Because he can’t mean—
‘Avery and Gabriel.’
I choke on my drink. ‘Are you—? No way.’
‘It’s true.’ The hint of a smile—a genuine smile—touches his lips now. ‘You should see them together, Laney. It’s quite nauseating, really.’
My laugh is as stunned as I feel. The shift in topic as jarring as the news itself.
‘I’m not sure what surprises me more. Your laidback reaction or that Gabe is in a real relationship—at least, I’m assuming it’s real, because you wouldn’t be this okay if Avery was just another one of his fleeting fancies.’
‘I didn’t say I was okay with it...not entirely...but he knows the score.’
‘What? Break her heart and you’re done?’
‘Break her heart and we’ll be more than done,’ he fires back at me.
‘Hey, easy tiger.’
Though seeing him come alive is a relief. This Aiden I can deal with. The broken man of before...that’s something else.
‘I’m sure Gabe wouldn’t have let anything happen if it wasn’t the real deal.’
‘I know. They’re in love. Or so they say. And I’ve no reason to believe it won’t last.’
‘Save for Gabe’s reputation with the ladies and Avery’s penchant for failing to stick at anything long enough to make it matter.’
‘She’s changed.’ The small smile makes a return, reaches his eyes too. ‘Turns out I never gave her the chance to be who she wanted to be. Now she’s doing that, free of my involvement, she’s as committed as they come.’
‘Interference, you mean?’
‘Involvement, interference, protection... However you want to look at it...’
He plays the big brother card so well and my heart swoons. It’s sexy and endearing and I’m powerless to protect myself in the face of it. Powerless to protect myself from the pain that remains too.
Poor Margot. Poor Aiden. Avery...
I force my focus back on the conversation. ‘She’s still studying jewellery design, then?’
‘She is. And she’s impressive, Elena. Wait until you see her work. Mum’s bowled over by it too. You should see them together, poring over her designs...’
His voice thickens with his words, its gruff edge tugging at my fraying heartstrings.
‘And Gabe?’ I say, pressing on. ‘Has he changed?’
‘Put it this way, I’ve never seen him like this over a woman before.’
I smile softly. ‘There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.’
‘Indeed.’
His eyes lift to mine and something in their depths has the smile fading from my own, beads of sweat breaking out across my nape. He isn’t done.
I lift my long black hair away, press a cool hand to the heated flesh. I should have worn cotton rather than wool. The fit of the fabric is flattering, and perfect for casual drinks with an old friend, but right now it’s far too hot.
He’s making me far too hot.
I look away and sip at my drink, roll a small piece of ice around my mouth, let it melt and cool before I meet his gaze once more.
‘You should have called me, Aiden. I would always make time for you. You and your mother. You’re family in all the ways that count.’
‘I know—which is why I left it until now.’
‘So I wouldn’t break my commitments?’
‘Guilty as charged.’
I shake my head. Always the thoughtful one. Always putting others first. Can he ever put a foot wrong in my eyes?
He does where women are concerned...
I ignore the unhelpful remark while also acknowledging that it’s not fair either. He’s always very clear that he has no interest in forming a real relationship outside of the bedroom, and I probably understand his reasonings better than he does. Fear of loss, fear of not being enough, fear of—heaven forbid—having someone else depend on him...
This is the last thing I should be thinking of—Aiden and the bedroom and his closed-off feelings—but then I’ve been celibate since my break-up with Enrique two months ago.
Oh, who am I kidding? We hadn’t slept together for months before that. Our relationship rocky long before it came to an end. He blamed my intense work schedule, while I blamed this. My feelings for Aiden that just won’t quit.
Maintaining our friendship while also moving on has proved impossible. Hence the avoidance, the year apart...a year where it seems I have failed him completely.
Not being there when he needed me the most.
‘I truly am sorry, Adie.’ I nip my lip. Wish I could change it. The past, my feelings...my failings. ‘I’m grateful you came all this way to tell me in person, but never keep something as important as this from me again. Please.’
He barely blinks as he absorbs my plea—is he even hearing me?
‘It’s not the only reason I’ve come in person, Laney.’
The tiny beads of moisture return. Why is he looking at me like that?
I swallow, but there’s nothing to take down. ‘No?’
‘No.’ He leans forward in his seat, brings himself that bit closer. ‘I have something to ask of you.’
I force myself to hold his gaze, wishing my heart wouldn’t pulse every time he looks at me. After thirty-five years I should be used to it. Or maybe that’s the problem. It’s been thirty-five years in the making. Feeling this way. And never has it been more concentrated than in the last few—ever since I was forced to accept my love for a man who refuses to ever be touched by the emotion.
‘Anything,’ I murmur. ‘You know that.’
His mouth quirks to one side, stretching out its fullness, enhancing the dimple to one cheek that peeks through the stubble.
‘You say that now...’
My heart races that bit faster. ‘To use the age-old adage...if you don’t ask, you don’t get.’
‘Perfectly put...’
And still he asks nothing.
‘Adie, unless you plan on finding me a replacement for tomorrow night’s performance, I suggest you—’
‘Marry me, Elena?’
I’ve done it. I’ve said it. I’ve asked her.
Now to explain. Only I can’t seem to find the words. Probably because this is a crazy idea. I know it is, and yet it makes sense.
In black and white, it’s the perfect solution to my current problem, and she’s the only one I trust with it. The only one who will understand what I’m offering and what I’m most definitely not—a real relationship, a real marriage, romantic love.
She blinks across the table at me. Her rich brown eyes wide and confused. ‘What did you just say?’
I interlock my fingers on the table. ‘Just hear me out...’
‘I swear you just asked me to...’
‘Marry me, yes.’
She shakes her head, wrestling with her thoughts as the bartender appears with my drink. He sets it down and she waves an unsteady finger at it.
‘What on earth is in that drink? Because I really don’t think you need another.’
‘Thank you,’ I say to the bartender who nods and takes the empty glass away. I barely give a second’s thought to what he makes of her remark, grateful that he wasn’t within listening distance when I reaffirmed my hash of a proposal.
What had I been thinking? To blurt it out like that? I’d intended to lead up to it, deliver a gentle opening...
‘I know how it sounds, but—’
‘Do you? Because you’ve just told me Avery and Gabe are together, which is crazy enough. Now you want me to marry you. Just what are you playing at, Aiden?’
‘I know what you’re thinking.’
‘I doubt that very much.’
I lean back, drag a hand down my face and take a breath. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. But then I think of Mum. Think of the worry on her face. And resolve runs through me, solidifying my stature, adding strength to my voice.
‘This has nothing to do with Gabe and my sister. I’m not trying to outdo them, or any such nonsense.’
‘The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but now you mention it...’
‘Love isn’t catching. I can promise you that.’
Her lashes flicker, the solitary lit candle between us playing in her eyes, turning their brown depths molten with gold and hypnotic with it...
God, I’ve missed her eyes, her smile, her laugh...it’s been too long.
And the realisation stirs something deep within me. Something I don’t want to examine.
‘So, what is this about?’ she asks.
I clear my throat, shake off the confusing haze with it.
‘It’s about Mum.’ I say it like it’s all the explanation she needs.
‘What’s Margot got to do with...?’ Her voice trails away as her brows lift, her eyes lightening with realisation. They really are quite captivating.
And you really are losing the plot.
‘I don’t believe this. She wants you married, and you want to give her that in case—in case she... Aiden, come on. You can’t be serious.’
‘Deadly.’
‘Not the—’
‘Wisest choice of words? No. But the truth. It’s been on her mind for a long time and she’s made sure everyone knows it. Even the household staff are aware of her desire to see me married off, settled... You should see the looks I’m getting. Every unattached female now fancies themselves a candidate, thanks to her oversharing.’
‘A candidate?’
‘Perfect wife material.’
She laughs, her chuckle soft and disbelieving as she shakes her head and lifts her drink to her lips, takes a sip. And another. She opens her mouth but it’s more choked laughter that she gives.
‘It really isn’t funny.’
But my voice is distant, distracted, my eyes inexplicably drawn to the trace of pink gloss she leaves against the glass edge. The shape of her mouth, feminine and soft and full of appeal.
Is this what happens when I don’t see her in too long? The lines of friendship blur, and my awareness of her as a woman gets dialled up by a thousand...?
I’ve always thought her attractive, her beauty is impossible to ignore. But she’s still Laney. My best friend Laney. And the way I’m reacting is so far from okay... Hell, she’s practically family.
‘Aiden?’
‘Yes.’ I snap to attention, blame my crazy proposal for my even crazier reaction.
‘Where did you go?’
‘I’m right here.’
‘Physically, yes. But your head was long gone.’
‘It was?’ It really was. ‘What did I miss?’
‘All this talk of candidates and wife material...it sounds like it’s not just your mother who’s been thinking about this for a while.’
‘How can I not? Especially now she’s so ill. Before, it was simply a case of her passing comment on my lack of passion for anything but work. Then she got her diagnosis, and when she should have been focusing on her health, and getting better, she became obsessed with the idea of leaving me behind with, to use her words, “no one to lean on”.’
‘You have Avery.’
‘I know that. She knows that. But it’s not the same and she’s made sure I know that too.’
‘So she’s badgering you into getting married?’
‘Badgering, dropping not-so-subtle hints, deploying emotional blackmail—they’re all one and the same, right?’
She shakes her head, looks at me like I’ve lost mine—not that I can blame her.
‘Since when do you do something because someone else expects it of you...? Actually, don’t answer that.’
Because we both know the answer. It happened the day my dad died and left me in charge. My whole life became about the expectations and demands of others.
‘But this is marriage, Aiden. You can’t marry a random woman just to make your mother happy.’
‘I’m not talking about marrying someone random, I’m talking about marrying you. Think about it, Elena. When we were growing up our mothers joked about it, but at the heart of that joke was a real hope that one day it would happen. And my mother isn’t stupid. If I came home with just anyone, she’d know it was a ruse, a fake engagement to keep her happy. But if I come home with you... Well, then it’s her dream come true and she won’t question it. She’ll take our word as gospel.’
‘Our word?’ she repeats quietly. ‘And what word is that?’
‘That we’re in love.’
The ice clinks inside her glass and she sets it down. The tremor in her hand too obvious to miss as I push on, desperate to convince her, desperate to ignore the weird sense of chaos within too.
‘That we’ve been in love for a long time but we didn’t want to tell anyone until we knew it was a dead cert.’
She shudders. ‘Will you quit it with the dead word?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I do, but I still don’t understand why you would do this.’
‘Because I can’t bear it, Laney. Dad died, and a part of her died with him. She’s never been the same. And now she’s sick, and I don’t know how long she has left, but I’d like to know that I did what I could to bring her some joy once more. Joy and peace and everything in between.’
‘Isn’t it enough to see her daughter settled?’
The inner chaos morphs into an ache, resonating deep within my chest. ‘You’d think so. After everything Avery went through...after everything we went through with her. But no. It’s not enough.’
She frowns, her eyes raking over my face as she seeks out something in mine.
‘She’s scared that without a woman you’ll work yourself into an early grave...’
I flinch. Her supposition is so on target. And she knows it too—thinks the same, even. The way she states it as fact rather than a question.
‘And you think the same?’
Her silence is answer enough.
‘My mother saw the inherent workaholic in my father and spent their life together trying to ensure he found balance. Trying and failing. So I can understand why she would think it of me. But you?’
‘Come on, Adie, ever since your dad passed away work has become your life—you know that. Everyone knows that.’
‘Because I care what happens to the company.’
‘Of course you do. It’s your father’s legacy.’
‘And I won’t fail him.’ It erupts in a rush, my hand balling into a fist.
‘You could never fail him.’
I scoff. ‘Were you not there when I was a kid? An adult, even? You saw the pressure...the need to excel. It wasn’t enough to pass, to just be good enough. I had to do better, be the best.’
‘And you did. Look at you, Adie. Look at Monroe Wealth Management. You’re at the top of your game.’
‘And I’ll make sure I stay that way.’
‘But to what detriment?’
I force my hand to relax. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘Of course I understand. I was there. I understood the pressure. I also understood that you were loved. And your father wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your life for his work.’
‘It’s my work too.’
‘Because it was forced upon you. You forget I remember those days when you used to dream of doing something else—anything else, almost. Are you saying you don’t have those thoughts any more? That Monroe Wealth makes you feel happy and fulfilled?’
‘It’s not a question of happiness. It’s a question of looking after my father’s legacy—my family’s too. It’s about keeping the future secure for the hundreds and thousands of employees who work for me.’
‘You have people you can trust to continue that work and free you to pursue other interests. Take Gabe’s new business. You could step in there...do something with your best friend. Or those charities you support—just think what they could achieve with you dedicating your time and expertise to a cause that you truly care about.’
Her words tease at the fringes of my mind, at age-old dreams long ago forgotten as the necessities of life took over. As grief for my father became an overwhelming need to do right by him. To prove my worth and ensure he didn’t die in vain. To never fail him.
‘Monroe Wealth is my responsibility.’
‘But it doesn’t need all of you, Adie. It will always be a part of you, but you can choose to have more in life. You just need to open your mind to it...and your heart.’
I stare back at her, ignore the flicker of light that comes alive inside me as I try to find the words to deny it, to deny her.
‘Look what happened with your father,’ she says. ‘He was far too young to—’
‘He had an undiagnosed heart condition,’ I cut in, aggressive, defensive.
‘Exacerbated by his lifestyle. His work.’
‘There’s nothing to say the same will happen to me.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘I’ve had a thorough work-up. Believe me, if there was a risk I’d know about it.’
‘You’re missing the point.’
‘I’m not missing the point. I’m addressing it head-on.’
‘Is this really how you want to spend the rest of your life, Adie?’ She looks sad, sad and concerned, and it skitters over my skin. ‘Working all hours to—’
‘I’m not working all hours—not now Mum is sick. I’ve been home more. I’ve had to be.’
‘But when she’s gone? Who will give your life balance then? Avery has Gabe. Who will you have?’
The conversation has come full circle. ‘You think her concern is valid?’
‘I think her concern is valid, yes, but I don’t think you getting married is the answer.’
‘How so?’
‘I’m sorry, Adie, but I don’t think there’s a woman out there capable of making you change. That has to come from you.’
‘At least on that we agree.’
‘No one could change your father...not your mother and not you.’
She says it softly, so full of meaning, and I know it’s because she sees it. My own guilt. My own failing.
‘It wasn’t your fault your father wouldn’t stop. You tried...’
I shrug, but it’s awkward, stilted. I did try. On all those father-and-son trips when he was supposed to be getting some R&R—Mum’s orders. And yet he’d still have his phone to his ear, his laptop within reach. All those weekends where he’d skirt around the edge of the pitch, one eye on my game and the other firmly on his phone. I performed for him, eager to distract him, rarely succeeding. He was proud of me, and he loved me, and my sister, my mum...just not enough to give work a rest, take the rest his body needed.
‘It doesn’t matter now, anyway. I can’t change the past.’
‘No, but you can change the future. Your future.’
‘This my life, Laney. Whether I like it or not, I choose to live it this way.’
Her gaze is intense, her rich brown depths questioning and assessing, filled with doubt and disappointment too. Not that I’ll react to it.
‘So why do this, then?’ she says. ‘If this is really how you want to live, why are you bending your life rules with this crazy proposition?’
‘Because my mother doesn’t agree. She sees marriage as the answer and that’s all that matters.’
‘Is it?’
She wets her lips, crosses her legs. Her knee brushes against mine beneath the table and I have the strangest urge to maintain the contact. I cover the echo of her touch with my hand, dismiss the thought as quickly as it occurs.
‘Yes. I’m not seriously contemplating marriage because I think she’s right. I don’t need another person to feel responsible for, to depend on me.’ I wince. ‘No offence, Laney.’
‘None taken.’
Because she gets it. She gets me. And that’s why it has to be her.
‘I’m proposing a front—a pretend relationship to quit her worrying over me so she can focus on what she should—getting better. And if she doesn’t...if I’m to lose her...then at least she’ll leave this world thinking I’m okay.’
Elena stares back at me and I take up my drink, give her time to mull it over.
‘You really want me to be your fake wife?’
‘No, a fake fiancée will suffice.’
‘Suffice?’ she chokes out. ‘Have you heard yourself?’
I grimace. ‘Sadly, yes. And I know how it sounds—I do.’
‘And what if she survives, Aiden? Have you thought about how we manage that?’
I swallow, feel the blood inch from my face. ‘The chances are slim...’
She touches a hand to her mouth as the tears make a return.
‘Life is so unfair...’ She waves a hand at me as I try to apologise, hating that I’ve put her in this position, but hating the situation that led us here more. ‘Not you. I don’t mean you and this. I mean your mum. I mean her illness. To have gone through all she has and now this.’
‘It’s why I want your help, Laney. To make the best of an awful situation. You know I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way. And you’re the only person I can ask...the only person I can imagine by my side.’
‘I...’
My heart flutters up inside my chest, my head lifts...
‘I don’t know.’
The slump is real—the disappointment, the desperation. ‘Think about it, Laney. It’s not like it doesn’t help you too. After what happened with Enrique—’
She reacts as though I’ve slapped her, and I bite my cheek, curse the low blow I’ve delivered. Does the man still have the power to hurt her so much?
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to mention him.’
‘But you did anyway?’
‘You know it makes sense. It’ll get the press off your back, stop them pitying you and speculating over your feelings now that he’s with—’
‘I couldn’t care less what they say, and I’m happy that he’s happy.’
‘Are you?’ I don’t believe her—not for a second. ‘Because you don’t look it, and I’m sure your mother worries over every printed word.’
‘Is that going to be your constant defence when it comes to this crazy idea? Our mothers?’
‘It really isn’t so crazy—not when you give it proper thought.’
‘We’d be lying to the world, Aiden.’
‘But not to each other.’
‘And you think that makes it okay?’
‘You’re one of the few people in this world I care about, Elena. Lying to you is an impossibility.’
‘But lying to our mothers, your sister, Gabe?’
‘The latter are too loved up to care and the former will be too ecstatic.’
‘And when we expose it for what it is?’
‘We won’t. We’ll simply part amicably. Like any normal couple.’
‘And what about the press? You say this will help me now, but don’t you think the press will have a field-day over our eventual break up? Especially as they’ve been dying for this story for far too long.’
‘We’ll control the narrative together, and our PR teams can take care of the rest.’
‘You make it sound so simple.’
‘Because it is.’
‘Can you really be so cold and matter-of-fact about it?’
‘I’m being anything but cold, Elena. I’m doing this for my mother and hoping it will help you too. Aren’t you sick of the press speculation? Aren’t you sick of the weekly, if not daily, phone calls from your mother, checking in? Worrying?’
‘How do you know about those?’
‘Because I know you and I know your mother.’
She chews the corner of her mouth and I force my eyes up, hold her gaze.
‘It really does make a lot of sense.’
‘In an Aiden world, where everything is black and white.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘What about the shades of grey?’
‘I wasn’t talking about us getting into bed together, Laney.’
Her cheeks flame, and I know I shouldn’t have said it. It was too close to the knuckle, too much of a tease when this is a serious conversation. But...
‘Neither was I, Monroe,’ she quips back, my best friend through and through. ‘I meant, what about when things get complicated, messy...?’
‘How so?’
‘I don’t know. But if we’re to convince people we’re in love, they will expect us to...you know...’
‘So you are talking about the bedroom?’ I hold my hand up when her eyes flare. ‘Sorry, not the bedroom. But you are referring to physical shows of affection?’
‘Yes!’
I can’t resist the slow smile I give. ‘Does the idea of kissing me turn your stomach that much?’
