Page 95 of Fake Married to the Grumps

Her gaze flickers to mine, and for a second, I see apprehension there. I want to reach out to reassure her that everything will be okay, but instead, I plaster on a smile that feels more like a grimace.

This is all just for show, after all. We both know it.

The judge nods in approval, and I realize with a start that we're almost done. Just a few more formalities, and then we'll be free to go start our new life. The thought should be a relief because it'll help my career, but instead, it leaves me feeling strangely on edge.

I glance down at the ring in my hand, a simple band of gold that feels heavier than it should. It's just a piece of metal, I remind myself. It doesn't mean anything. But as I slide it onto Marissa's finger, I feel a pang of something I can't quite identify.

The feel of her smooth skin against mine sends a ripple of sparks through me. The judge pronounces us husband and wife, and suddenly, everything feels too real. Too intense.

We’re bombarded with congratulations from well-meaning but utterly clueless onlookers. I plaster on a fake smile and nod along with their empty platitudes, all the while itching to get out of here.

As we step out of the courtroom, the harsh sunlight hits me like a slap in the face. I squint against the glare, feeling suddenly exposed.

Marissa tugs at my hand, her touch surprisingly gentle, and I let her lead me away from the prying eyes of the spectators.

As we make our escape, Chris, my best man, slides up to me with a smirk plastered on his face, and Marissa excuses herself, saying she is going to talk with Cindy, her maid of honor.

"Well, well, well, look who's officially tied the knot," he says, his tone dripping with amusement.

I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," I grumble. "I'm sure you've got a whole arsenal of jokes lined up."

Chris chuckles, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Hey, just looking out for you, buddy," he says, his voice teasing but strangely earnest. "You know how it is in this industry. Fake relationships can turn real faster than you can say 'tabloid scandal.'"

I shoot him a glare, but he just laughs it off. "Relax, Bryce. I'm sure you've got everything under control," he says, giving me a playful nudge. "Just remember what we talked about, okay? Don't let yourself get too caught up in the act."

I press my lips into a narrow line at his words, the reminder hitting a little too close to home. "I know what I'm doing," I snap, my tone sharper than intended. "I'm not some lovesick puppy."

"Oh, really? So, you're telling me you haven't already fallen for Marissa?"

I scoff, trying to ignore the flutter of uncertainty in my chest. "Of course not," I say, my voice coming out more defensive than I'd like. "We're just playing our parts, that's all. There's nothing real about this."

Chris gives me a knowing look, but thankfully, he lets the subject drop. We make idle chit-chat as he escorts me to where my car is parked.

"So, what's next on the agenda?" Chris asks. "Honeymoon in Hawaii? Romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant?"

I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to tell him to mind his own damn business. "I’ve got nothing planned."

Chris laughs, a sound that's equal parts mocking and amused. "Ah, the romantic life of a newlywed," he says, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I can see why Marissa fell for you."

I shoot him a glare, but he just grins back at me, unfazed by my scowl. "Come on, lighten up," he says, clapping me on the back. "You've got a beautiful wife, a successful career, and a dashing best friend to boot. What more could you ask for?"

I open my mouth to retort, but the words die on my lips. What more could I ask for, indeed? If Marissa were my real wife, his question would have been a valid one. But she's not.

I shake my head, trying to banish the intrusive thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me. "Thanks, Chris," I say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. "I appreciate the pep talk."

Chris claps me on the back, his grin widening. "Anytime, buddy," he says, his tone light but sincere. "Just remember what I said, okay? Don't let yourself get too caught up in the act."

He gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to head off in the opposite direction. As Chris walks away, I spot Cindy approaching me, a smile on her face that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Quite the show you're putting on, big brother," she says, the teasing tone not fully masking her underlying concern. "Are you sure you're ready for this whole fake marriage charade?"

I chuckle, "Ready as I'll ever be, Cindy."

The slightly playful look now vanishes as she fixes me with a pointed look. "Remember what I told you before, Bryce? About not hurting Marissa?"

I nod, recalling our conversation from a few days ago. "I remember, Cindy. I did say that everything would be alright."

My words do little to appease Cindy. Her eyes narrow as she takes a step closer, her voice low and serious. "I know you did, but I want to make sure you fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Like I said before, Marissa ... is ... my ... best ... friend," she emphasizes each word with a sharp poke of her finger against my chest, "and I love her like a sister. If you do anything to cause her even an ounce of pain, you'll have me to answer. Do you understand?"

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