Page 36 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

“That wasn’t a condescending sigh. It was a ‘getting into a warm bubble bath’ sigh. The tub is as big as our bathroom. Seriously, I could swim laps if I hadn’t poured in so much bubble bath.” I pushed my hand through the mound of bubbles and piled them on top of my head.

“That sounds heavenly,” Ella said before letting Layla know that I was in a bubble bath, to which Layla said her usual, “Why doesn’t stuff like that happen to me?”

“The vanilla is in the pantry behind the cornstarch.”

“Behind the cornstarch,” Ella instructed. “So, how is it going?”

“Oh Ella, I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Wonderful, eh?”

“What? No. Did I even give off that vibe? Let’s just say I’m earning that money this weekend. Remember that old crone, the villain in Nonna’s story about the three young girls who got lost in the forest?—”

“And the tall woodsman swooped in and saved them from a terrible fate of being fed to the alligators in the crone’s moat?”

“Figures that’s the part you remember. But yes, that one. Well, that old crone lives here at the Greyson estate, however she’s not old and hideous. Although her face is kind of scary from plastic surgery. Luke’s mom is—well—to put it into terms you know well—she’s a villain. She has everything any woman could ever want, yet she is always scowling. Of course, that’s mostly because she hates me.”

“What? How on earth can anyone hate our Isla? I’m putting you on speakerphone because Layla is practically falling on her face in her attempt to get close enough to hear our conversation.”

“Hey, sis,” Layla called.

“Hey. And don’t over-stir the muffin batter, or you’ll get banana rocks. Anyhow, the whole reason for this scheme was so that Luke’s mom wouldn’t set him up with a blind date for the weekend. But she invited the woman anyway, and her unlikable mom is here, too.”

“What a pushy mom,” Layla said. “What’s the other woman like?”

“Well, on a scale of one to ten, one being that old crone in Nonna’s story and ten being Cinderella after her fairy godmother does the whole ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ thing, Alexandria is a fourteen—no magical mice or pumpkin needed.”

“Well darn. That’s disappointing,” Ella said. “That’s not the way this story is supposed to work.”

“Not a story, El. It’s real life. And I’m the, I don’t even know—oh my gosh, am I the ugly stepsister? I’m the ugly stepsister, aren’t I? I really should just head home.” I ducked lower in the bubbles and blew a loud raspberry to send the clear, soapy spheres floating around the room.

“Nonsense. Now, you listen here and stop playing with the bubbles, ’cuz your sister El is going to give you a Nonna-style pep talk.”

I sat up higher in the tub. “Not sure it’ll help. And to top everything off—there’s karaoke tonight, and aside from riding like an Olympian, apparently, and being able to golf and walking like a Paris runway model, Alex has had voice training for years.”

“So what? You know you were always the best singer in the family. And since you cut me off with your soapy pity party, I’ll start again. Now you, my beautiful, baking artist, are a member of the fabulous five.” I smiled as she brought up Nonna’s group name for us. Of course, she only called us that when we wereallbeing fabulous, which wasn’t all the time. “And the members of the fabulous five are ‘always true to ourselves and to our own hearts.’” Layla and I repeated along with Ella. “Have fun, enjoy the bubble baths, and if that dreamy hunk of a man can’t see how special you are, then he’s a big ole goober, albeit a very tall, dark and handsome one. Have fun, be safe, soak in that magnificent tub until you’re a beautiful little prune and then come home so you can relay every single detail to your bored sisters who just spent a half hour looking for a bottle of vanilla that was right behind the cornstarch.”

“And bring home sample shampoos and lotions if they have them,” Layla added.

“She’s not at a hotel.” Ella returned to our conversation. “La, have fun, keep us posted and sing your little heart out tonight.”

I was sitting up higher in the bubbles and feeling less like the ugly stepsister. “You’re right.”

“Time for a chant then,” Ella said. “One, two, three, fabulous five forever!” We said in perfect unison.

“Love you guys and remember, don’t over-mix the batter.”

“Love ya,” they cheered.

I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to the crinkling sound the bubbles made as they disintegrated into soapy water. I hummed “Cowboy Take Me Away” but decided to rest my vocal cords for karaoke. I let myself soak until most of the bubbles were gone and my fingers were wrinkled and my mind was free of clutter. Until something stunning struck me. I sat up so fast, some of the water sloshed over the rim of the tub. I hadn’t given it much thought this morning when I spotted the young woman, the server, hurrying back to her shift after an overlong break. Then I saw her again, hurrying to the elevator in the basement. But what was she doing down there? It was possible she’d carried something down for the crew setting up the karaoke room, but I didn’t see any trays of food. None of this would have struck me as surprising if I hadn’t also run unexpectedly into David, Rachel’s fiancé, in the boxwood maze. And he looked somewhat disheveled. Then there was the giggling in the theater. Was it possible? I badly wanted to call my sisters back and have a huge gossip session about the tawdry possibilities, but none of it was my business. I wasn’t here as a true guest. I was a hired date, a decoy, a fake. I liked Rachel, but we weren’t close friends or confidants, and besides that, this was all just a theory based on a few odd incidents. I pushed it out of my mind. This entire weekend was bizarre, so why not add a cheating groom to the mix?

My phone beeped with a text as I dried off. It was from Luke. “How about taking in that movie right now? We’ve got a few hours before the rehearsal.”

“Just have to get dressed,” I texted back.

“Swing by to pick you up in fifteen,” he wrote back.

A few hours alone with Luke required some personal ground rules. Remember, this is a business proposition, one that gets you seven grand closer to your dream bakery. Remember he is utterly charming and gorgeous and definitely not for you. Remember that if you were actually dating Luke Greyson, you’d have to see Margaret Greyson over and over again. And that alone made him what I considered the least-eligible bachelor in the country.

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