Page 29 of Play Fake
“Are you so serious right now?” she gasps.
I shrug. “The idea just came to me over pizza.”
“It’s nuts, Dex. Bananas.”
“You’re right. Forget I said it. Though ice cream with nuts and bananas doesn’t sound bad.” I glance at the ice cream place across from where we’re sitting.
She tilts her head and stares at me for a few seconds. “You would look like a rebound. Nobody would believe it’s a legitimate marriage.”
“You’re right. Dumb idea.” I push it a little further, and I don’t even know why. “Even though we’ve known each other for years and years and could easily explain away the rebound thing. You always had a thing for me. I always had a thing for you…when you turned legal age, of course. We could make up a whole story. You came to Vegas and knew exactly who to call when that show didn’t pan out the way you thought it would. All that shit’s fake anyway, right?”
“We’re not allowed to imply that.”
“Didn’t they already revoke your paycheck?”
She stares at me thoughtfully as she chews her lip for a few beats. She’s actually thinking this through. “The show is in edits, and I’m not sure when they’re airing it. But what if I was married to a pro football star when it came out? I wouldn’t look like such a fool then, would I?”
I press my lips together. “Will they film a reunion show?”
She nods. “They’re filming in three months.”
“Maybe that’s when we make it official, then.”
“You’re joking right now. Right? Because you’re Dex, and I’m Ainsley, and this would never, ever work.”
“We don’t need it to work, Ains. It’s a business arrangement.”
“For how long?”
I twist my lips. “Until the kid is eighteen?” I say again, and she giggles. I’m not sure I’m joking.
“You’re still nuts and bananas.”
“If you keep talking about my nuts, we may have to make business personal.”
Her cheeks turn a bright shade of red along with her nose, and I might just have to keep making comments like that only to see her adorable reaction.
Wait.
Wait just a fucking hot second there.
Did I just use the wordadorablein my brain?
Fuck.
Maybe Iamnuts after all.
She purses her lips as she stares at me, and then she nods resolutely. “Fuck it.”
“Fuck it?” I ask.
She nods. “Let’s do it.”
My brows shoot up. “You want to get married?”
“I left Chicago expecting to get married in Vegas. So what if it’s not the original route I took? Someone I know is trying to teach me to take more risks without worrying about the consequences, so fuck it. Let’s get married.”
“Let’s get married,” I echo.
