Page 98 of Fake Married to the Grumps

"Are you ready to do this?" I ask, my voice coming out more gruffly than intended.

Marissa nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I'm ready," she says, her voice steady but tinged with nervousness.

I offer her a reassuring smile, trying to push aside the nagging doubts that gnaw at the edges of my mind. This is just another day at the office, I remind myself. Just another performance in a long line of performances.

Just that this time, it's going to be the biggest performance of my career, and I have to nail it.

We pull up to the set, the sprawling soundstage looming before us like a giant monolith. The air is alive with activity, crew members scurrying about like ants on a hill, cameras and lights being set up with meticulous precision.

I open the car door and step out onto the pavement, the cool morning air hitting me like a slap in the face. Marissa follows suit, her hand still clasped tightly in mine, her grip surprisingly strong despite her apparent nerves.

The instant they see us, we're greeted with a chorus of cheers and congratulations from our colleagues, their voices blending in a cacophony of noise. I plaster on a fake smile and nod along with their platitudes.

"Congratulations on your wedding!" someone calls out, their voice carrying over the din.

I exchange a quick glance with Marissa, a flicker of amusement passing between us. "Thanks," I mutter, my voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

As we make our way onto the set, I can feel the eyes of the entire crew following our every move, their gazes lingering on the ring on my finger and the way Marissa's hand brushes against mine as we walk.

"Are you guys going to kiss for us?" someone calls out, and my entire body stiffens.

A flush of heat rises to my cheeks, and I glance at Marissa. This is it, the moment of truth. The moment where we have to decide whether to give in to the charade or risk exposing ourselves for the frauds we truly are.

But before I can even open my mouth to respond, someone else interrupts, their voice quickly cutting through the chatter.

"Sorry to break in, folks, but we've got a schedule to keep," the director says, his voice booming over the loudspeaker. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Marissa shoots me a relieved smile, and I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful for the timely interruption. "Yeah, let's get this show on the road," I mutter, my voice tinged with relief.

Just as I'm about to make my way to the dressing room, Jake chimes in with his unsolicited opinion. "So, Bryce, how long do you think this marriage to sweet Marissa will last? You usually grow bored of women in no time," he says with a smirk, his tone dripping with condescension.

My blood boils at his words, a ripple of anger streaming through my veins like wildfire. He has no idea this marriage is fake, and even if he did, how dare he make assumptions about my relationship with Marissa? How dare he belittle her like that?

Clenching my fists at my sides, I struggle to keep my composure as I shoot him a withering glare. "Excuse me?" I snap, my voice sharp with indignation. "Who do you think you are, making comments like that?"

Jake just laughs, the sound grating on my nerves like sandpaper. "Come on, Bryce, don't tell me you're actually taking this whole marriage thing seriously. We all know how you operate. You'll be on to the next one before the ink on the marriage certificate even dries."

Rage bubbles up inside me. "You don't know anything about me or my relationship with Marissa."

Jake shrugs, unfazed by my outburst. "Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it," he says with a smug grin. "But if you want to play house with your little assistant, be my guest. Just don't come crying to me when it all falls apart."

He says the last bit to Marissa, and a surge of indignation rises within me, a fierce protectiveness washing over me. Yes, our marriage is just a facade, but someone as callous as Jake has no right to question its legitimacy.

Before I can stop myself, I'm marching towards him, my hands balled into fists, my vision tinged with red. "You listen here,"I growl, my voice low and menacing. "You don't know the first thing about me or Marissa. So, you can take your pathetic excuses for insults and—"

"Bryce, stop," Marissa interrupts, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "He's not worth it."

I pause, taken aback by the steel in her voice, by the fire in her eyes. This is a side of Marissa I've never seen before, a side that fills me with a fierce sense of pride and admiration.

But before I can respond, Jake opens his mouth again, his voice laced with smugness. "Oh, come on, Marissa, don't tell me you believe this whole marriage thing is real. We all know it's just a publicity stunt from Bryce’s end."

"You know what, Jake? What if it is a publicity stunt?" she asks, her voice shaking with fury. "That doesn't make it any less valid. Bryce and I may not have the perfect relationship, but we're trying. And that's more than I can say for you."

Jake's jaw drops, his face turning a bright shade of red. "You can't talk to me like that," he splutters.

Marissa squares her shoulders, her chin held high in defiance. "Oh, believe me, I can," she says, her voice dripping with venom. "And if you ever disrespect me or Bryce again, you'll be hearing from our lawyer."

Jake stares at her with his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. Who knew sweet, shy Marissa had such a fiery side?

---