Page 5 of Faking the Pass
Gina pouted and rubbed her rounded belly. “And it looked real when I saw the video of you two leaving the airport together, all snuggly.”
“Well, you know what a good actor I am,” he purred. “You and I will have a much bigger and better wedding—very soon, I promise. Lake Cuomo, right? Or Fiji. Anywhere you like. Pick a date next year after the film comes out and call a wedding planner. In fact, Olivia here is excellent. You can talk to her right after the ceremony and get the ball rolling.”
“What?” the wedding planner yelped, rocking back on her sensible low heels. Apparently she was just as blindsided as I was.
Olivia’s reaction was the only thing assuring me I wasn’t having a very vivid nightmare. In a nightmare, the wedding planner would be just as calm and matter-of-fact about this as Randy was.
And everyone would be naked.
Randy placed Gina’s hand on the wedding planner’s arm and patted it.
“Would you mind taking her up to the bridal suite?” he asked. “She needs to settle down and rest. Today’s not exactly the best day to have a baby.”
To Gina, he said, “Darling, I’ll be up to check on you as soon as this is over.”
The wedding planner shot me a bewildered glance, and I nodded to her. My groom was the one who’d hired her after all—she worked for him, and none of this was her fault.
Besides, he and I needed a moment alone totalk.
As soon as they were out of sight, he smiled at me.
Smiled.
“Sorry about that,” he said in a breezy tone. “Obviously the hormones got the best of her. Ready to get on with it?”
I blinked. Blinked again. “Get on with what?”
Surely he wasn’t referring to this nightmare of a wedding.
“Oh right. I guess we need to wait for the wedding planner to get back or the music and stuff will be all messed up.”
“The music,” I deadpanned. “Honestly I’m less concerned about the playlist than the fact that myfiancéhas apregnant girlfriend.”
My voice had risen and continued to rise until I’d nearly shouted the end of the sentence.
“Shhhhh. Keep it down,” Randy said, pressing the air in front of him with his small, manicured hands.
Darting my eyes toward the ballroom doors, I tried to modulate my volume. This was embarrassing enough without the glamorous attendees turning in their seats to gawk at us.
“How could you do this to me?” I hissed.
Randy smiled at me again—the same wide, ultra white grin moviegoers had been swooning over for the past twenty years.
If I’d thought punching him in the mouth might have actually damaged those perfect veneers instead of breaking my hand, I’d have done it.
“You didn’t think this whole thing was for real, did you?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “I mean, we only met six months ago when I cast you.”
My mouth opened then closed again. Open. Close.
“Oh God, you did,” he said.
He shook his head, his eyes sympathetic. “I’m so sorry. I mean I assumed you had someone else in your life, too. We never even talked about being exclusive.”
My jaw literally dropped open. After a few seconds of trying, I finally managed human speech.
“I sort of assumed theproposalmade itclearwe were monogamous.”
“The proposal that just so happened to occur on live national television?” he asked. “The one that was broadcast over and over again on all the entertainment programs? This is show business, Rosie. There aren’t anyreallove stories in Hollywood. You should know that by now.”
