Page 1 of Faking the Pass
Prologue
You can’t really understand the meaning of the word “surprise” until you come home to find your high school dream girl—who famously just ran away from her own wedding—asleep in your bed.
— Presley Lowe
Chapter 1
Unexpected Guest
Rosie
Some girls get fairy-tale weddings. I got viral headlines, a ruined career, and a fake husband who’s six-feet-four-inches of sin in cleats.
“Okay, next.”
The ultra capable wedding planner checked her stopwatch and sent the final bridesmaid to do her walk.
“Straight up the steps and across the hallway to the ballroom doors,” she said, repeating the same marching orders she’d given to each of my attendants.
There were a lot of them.
All of them drop-dead gorgeous and handpicked by Randy, my groom, to fit the aesthetic he wanted for our wedding.
The women probably thought they were auditioning for a role in his next feature film—and they might have been right.
“Slow down,” the wedding planner called after the leggy brunette. “It’s a wedding processional, not the runway.”
The planner, whose name was Olivia, pointed to my maid of honor and best friend Danielle, the only bridesmaid I’d chosen for myself.
She actually smiled at her.
“Get ready, honey.”
Danielle nodded and turned to me, grabbing my hands and whisper-squealing. “I can’t believe you’re about to be Randy Ryland’s wife!”
“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling like I was in a daze. I couldn’t believe it myself.
It had all happened so fast. I’d met him six months ago, and in that time we’d shared one movie shoot, fourteen nights at his house in the Hollywood Hills, and the most public of public proposals.
Of course I’d said yes.
Now I was about to walk down the aisle and marry my co-star, who was also the producer of our upcoming film—my very first.
Randy had plucked an absolute nobody out of obscurity and made my acting dreams come true. Now he was about to make me his wife.
I’d never stop being grateful that he’d given me my first big break—and that he’d been there for me during one of the most difficult seasons of my life.
Danielle wiggled her fingers from my involuntary deathgrip and gave me a concerned look.
“You okay? Are you thinking about your mom?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m actually glad she’s not here. She would have absolutely hated this whole circus.”
Now Danielle’s forehead creased even more, and her eyes grew serious.
“So what’s the matter? You have that look on your face that you only get when you’re kind of freaking out,” she said. “You don’t have to do this, you know… if you’re not sure.”
“Right.” I giggled nervously, though nothing felt the slightest bit amusing at the moment.
