Page 28 of That Reilly Boy
“That’s fair.” She makes a kissing sound at my dog, who preens. “But no, I wouldn’t fight you for Penelope Louise. She clearly adores you.”
“She also adores you, and she hates everybody.”
“Most dogs love me, which is good considering my job.” She breathes deeply, then gives me a look that says she can’t believe she’s doing this. “When would this happen?”
“Ideally as soon as possible,” I say, and she makes a low distressed sound that has Penny licking her hand in comfort. I pull up the calendar on my phone. “The best way to preserve family relationships and fend off legal challenges is to really sell a whirlwind reunion romance. After all these years, we can’t live another day without each other, and all that. We need a little time to plan the wedding. Saturday the twenty-ninth? That’s a week and a half.”
“A week and a half,” she repeats, sounding numb. “You’re kidding about an actual wedding, right? We could just visit the courthouse and get it over with.”
“Flattering, but no. We have to really sell it if it’s going to work.” And I’m not about to miss out on the satisfaction of seeing the look on everybody’s faces when a Gamble vows to be a Reilly by marriage until death do we part.
“Nobody’s going to believe it.”
“Your mother is the only person who has to believe it. Admittedly, it’ll be an easier sell if half the town isn’t planting doubts in her mind, but we can’t control that.”
“It’ll be more than half the town doubting it.”
Of course it will, because nobody will believe a Gamble would fall for a Reilly. And it doesn’t matter that the house is deteriorating along with the family fortune—the dynamics of a small town are pretty much carved in granite.
The Gambles are too good for Reillys. Everybody believes it. Some even say it out loud.
So yes, I want them to watch Cara Gamble stand in front of the people of this town and vow to be my wife.
My wife.
“Okay,” she says, and then she puts her hand over her mouth as if she can’t believe she said it. “I’ll marry you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cara
Did I just agree to marry Hayden freakin’ Reilly?
I think I did, and though I’m utterly shocked at myself, I don’t think I’m sorry.
Maybe I should have talked to Mel first.
Actually, there’s no maybe about it. I absolutely should have told my best friend that marrying Hayden was a thing that might happen. And I definitely should have talked to her before coming over here tonight and accepting his proposal. She’s the only person in my life who’s one hundred percent Team Cara, and I can’t believe I’m doing this without her input.
But I also know why I didn’t text her.
There’s no way Mel would have agreed with this plan. As my best friend, it would be her job to remind me I can’t trust Hayden, and that the entire idea is so ridiculous I should have laughed while blocking his number in my phone.
She would have talked me out of it.
I should have let her, but then I would have lost my best chance to live a life that doesn’t include boiling water to fill the bathtub and tuna casserole three nights in a row. I wouldn’t even be able to cry about it in the shower.
And that’s why I don’t take the words back now. Instead, I just let them hang out there while I run my hand down Penelope’s soft hair over and over. She doesn’t really need soothing, but I do.
Okay. I’ll marry you.
Hayden is quiet, watching me pet his dog, and I appreciate that. He doesn’t push or start burying me with details. I’m not sure it’s possible to process what’s happening right now, but at least he’s giving me the space to try.
Somewhere in this house is an analog clock, and I listen to the very faint ticking of the second hand moving around the face.
“I don’t want to do this,” I clarify once the ticking of the clock starts to feel like pressure. “Going into a fraudulent marriage I know will end in divorce isn’t exactly something I’ve dreamed about. And I don’t want to do this to my mother.”
“I understand that, Cara. I really do.”
