Page 93 of Pretend for Me

“I’m thrilled you could make it,” I tell her. “I know it couldn’t have been easy leaving both the kids.”

She shakes her head. “They’re in good hands. Although, I fully expect to come home to Kai hopped up on sugar and the baby sleeping in Rowan’s arms instead of in her crib. Seriously,your brother will take any opportunity to have her nap on him. And when he’s gone for games, I’m left dealing with a cranky baby who misses her human pillow.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not as upset as you’re pretending to be?”

She chuckles. “Because I’m not. I know the world knows him as an NHL superstar, but that man was born to be a father.”

And for reasons I can’t quite understand, her comment makes me think of Dev. The way he is with Rome and his sister. His infinite patience and ability to get on their level. There’s no doubt in my mind he’d make an incredible father one day.

The kind of father I never had, but the kind I’d want for my own children . . .

Wait. Hold the phone . . .

My own children? With Dev?

What in the holy matrimony and something blue am I thinking?

This is a dress fitting for a fake marriage, Piper, not a glimpse into an alternate reality where you’re not allergic to romance and happily-ever-afters. Get it together before you start thinking this is real.

“But it could be,”whispers a hopeful little voice inside my head. It’s been piping up a lot more as of late.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,”snaps the usual skeptical part of my brain.“Stop trying to gaslight our negative thoughts and our collection of trust issues. We’re used to them!”

But even as I turn to greet the rest of my guests—Nisha, Sarina, and Jeena—I can’t shake the way my heart flips, imagining Dev waiting for me at the end of the aisle. Even if it will all be for pretend.

“Wait until you see all the wedding dresses,” Sarina says, grasping my hand and ushering me toward the area where ateam of stylists are waiting for me. “They even brought designer Indianlehengasfor you to try on.”

As I take in the racks of high-end garments, I notice a private chef setting up an array of pastries and delicacies on a bar adorned with huge vases of flowers and a chocolate fountain.

Dev did all this for me?

At some point, I’m handed a flute of champagne—the bottle on the server’s tray likely costs more than my mortgage—before I’m ushered to a room in the back with my choice of dress.

I take a long breath before I exit the changing room to a pin drop silence from my friends. Their eyes are fixated on me, my mom’s hands covering her mouth, while Shay visibly takes a shuddered breath.

I’ve already chosen a Victorian-inspired Vera Wang gown with intricate lace long sleeves and a lace and beaded bodice for our reception, and while that had everyone gasping, this designer bridallehengafor our Indian nuptials has them speechless.

Standing on a pedestal, I cast my eyes down the full-length mirrors to my sides, taking in the intricate embroidery and emerald-green accents over the off-whitelehengaskirt. It’s a masterpiece of embellishments and tiny woven crystals that hug my curves and catch the light with the slightest movement.

It’s the one.

My chest feels tight at the thought of how Dev will react when he sees me in it, knowing emerald green is his favorite.

“Piper . . .” Jeena says on a gentle exhale. “If I wasn’t married to the man of my dreams and his juicy potatoes, I would marry the shit out of you right now.”

My mother, God bless her, utters a confused, “Potatoes?” while Nisha and Sarina exchange perplexed glances.

Shay and I, however, just giggle softly, remembering Jeena’s infamous “potatoes confession” to her husband. Interestingly, she and Wayland were also in a fake relationship situation. Theirs, however, led to a real happily-ever-after, whereas mine . . .? Yeah, we’re not even going to go there right now.

“Inside joke,” I say to the others. “Let’s just say, Jeena has a rather peculiar fascination withagricultural assets.”

Jeena shrugs. “If you saw my husband’s A-gradeagriculturalassets, you would, too. But seriously, Piper, you look stunning.”

“Thank you,” I say, ecstatic about my two dresses.

I reach for my phone and text the man who made this beautiful day possible from the changing room.

Me

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