Page 75 of The Fake Husband Play
“Of course,” Chelsea murmurs, continuing to study Grammercy like the last chunk of meat in the gator pen at feeding time. Maybe pregnancy makes her things other than cranky? “No rush.”
I spin and speed-walk out of the pavilion, headed for the very hunky, very worried-looking man ducking behind the wooden fence shielding the park from the road.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as I reach his side.
“Hey, darlin’,” he drawls, the regret in his tone, his eyes, sending a wave of anxiety through my nervous system. “Sorry to crash the party. I tried texting and calling, but?—”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” My hand flies to my temple, then to my back pocket, where my phonehasbeen weirdly quiet this afternoon. “I think my phone’s still on silent from last night. I was about to turn it on,but at the last minute, Mimi decided she wanted to wear green to match the gators, instead of pink. And then we were scrambling to glue glitter on Sage’s card and?—”
“Don’t apologize,” he cuts in, resting a soothing hand on my arm. “It’s fine. My phone was still off, too. We were kind of busy last night. And this morning, so…”
“We were,” I murmur, biting my lip.
It doesn’t feel like the time to smile, but it’s hard to think about last night—or this morning—without smiling.
But Grammercy still isn’t smiling. He’s looking at me like he thinks I’m adorable, though, which is nice and comforting, but the worry in his gaze makes me afraid something’s wrong.
And if there’s nothing wrong betweenus, then…
“Is it your mom?” I ask, my pulse picking up. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”
“You could say that,” he mutters, hurrying to add when I make a worried sound, “but she’s fine. Mom’s not too happy with me right now, but she’s fine.”
I frown. “What? Why? What did you do?”
“It’s probably easier if I show you.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, his hands shaking a little. Whatever this is, it must be bad. “It’s…everywhere, so you’ll see it eventually.”
The question on the tip of my tongue vanishes as he presses play on a video, and I realize what I’m watching.
It’s…us. On camera.
The video was taken last night, near the convent. The scene is remarkably cinematic for having been filmed on someone’s cell. The flickering gaslights are doing my tired mom face sweet favors—note to self: arrange tostand under a gaslight at all times—but I can’t say the same for Brad. He looks even more like a messy drunk on camera than he did in person, making me cringe along with my on-screen self as he lurches toward me.
I’m a little shocked by how aggressive the move looks from this angle. I hadn’t felt like I was in serious danger at the time, but now…
Well, the menace in Grammercy’s voice as he says, “Excuse me, friend, but you’re standing too close to my wife,” feels completely justified.
The video cuts off as Brad backs away, making excuses, long before the kiss—thank God—but still…
Still…
Grammercy just called me “his wife” on a social media post that has?—
“Holy shit!” I blurt out as I see the number below it. Blinking fast, I ask, “Three million? That can’t be right? There’s no way three million people saw that.”
“I’m so sorry, Elly,” he says, the worry in his eyes making sense now.
We haven’t just been caught out; we’ve been stripped naked and shoved onstage in front of millions of strangers.
“I can’t wrap my head around that many people.” My voice is thin, breathy, then too loud as I add, “Oh my God, your mom!That’swhy she’s mad. Oh no, does she hate me? Does she think I’m?—”
“No, not at all,” he hurries to assure me. “She actually made a point of saying how much she adores you and Mimi. It’smeshe’s pissed at.” He sighs. “And she wants an explanation. I already called my brother and filled him in on what’s really going on. He was surprisingly cool about it, but I doubt Beanie will be the same. I haven’t responded to her texts yet. But I need to. Soon.”
“Yes,” I agree, nodding fast. “We can both talk to her.I can explain how you were just trying to help me and Mimi. You were being wonderful, a son any mother would be proud of. Surely, once we explain, she’ll understand.”
“I think she’ll come around,” he agrees. “It’s the other stuff I’m worried about. I’m so fucking sorry,chère. You’re trying to get your life on track and find some peace, and I just made you internet famous by accident. I’m sure that wasn’t on your wish list right now. Or ever.”
He’s right.
