Page 9 of Touchdown Under the Mistletoe
“She’s talented and ambitious. We have a lot in common.”
“I loved her in that movie; what was it called? The one where she played the wedding planner?” Grandma says. “She was delightful!”
“Say I Do Once More. I cried at the ending,” Mom says.
“You cry at every movie, Mom,” Aspen points out.
“So when’s the wedding?” Annie asks with a smile, and I almost choke.
“Wedding? We’ve only been dating a few months.”
“But you two look so perfect together in all the photos! And at your age, you must be thinking about settling down, right?” she asks.
At my age? Like thirty-eight is ancient or something.
Riley’s fork clinks against her plate a little too loudly, and I glance over to see her jaw tight, her eyes still firmly fixed on those green beans. She hasn’t looked at me since Annie brought up Sienna.
“We’re taking things slow,” I say, hating every word coming out of my mouth.
“Well, she’s certainly gorgeous. I showed all my friends at the book club those pictures of you two on the beach. They were so jealous,” Aunt Annie says, completely oblivious to how much I hate talking about this.
“Right,” I say.
Those pictures weren’t even real. We’d had a photographer follow us around for two hours while Sienna and I made awkward small talk and tried to look like a couple madly in love.
“Very romantic,” Grandma agrees. “The way she was looking at you! Like you hung the moon.”
Riley suddenly stands up, her chair scraping against the floor. “Excuse me. I need to, um, use the bathroom. Urgently.”
She’s gone before anyone can respond.
“Is she sick?” Annie asks, looking concerned.
“No, no. Riley’s probably just tired from all the moving around today,” her mom says.
But I know better. I saw her face in the split second before she turned away. She’s upset, and it’s because of me.
Beau is watching me across the table. He knows me too well and knows when I’m not being genuine. Luckily, he doesn’t say anything. He just raises his eyebrows as if to say,You want to tell me what’s really going on?
I shake my head. I can’t talk about how it’s all fake. I have a contract. Sienna has a contract. And to be fair, we both benefit financially from this deal. But I’m starting to think that money isn’t everything. That no amount of money is worth feeling this horrible. Lying to my family is one thing. It’s not nice, and I hate it, but hurting Riley feels even worse.
Which I didn’t expect, because it’s not like I still have a crush on her. I used to. Never told anyone, of course. She was three years younger than me, and I was looking at a career in football. We never could’ve worked as a couple.
“So, Beau. How’s business going?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
He takes the bait and launches into a story about a project that went sideways, but even as I try to listen, I can’t help but notice that Riley is taking way too long for a bathroom break. Unless she has a bladder infection or a stomach bug, but that seems highly unlikely since she was fine just half an hour ago.
I try to focus on Beau’s story about a client who wanted to install a hot tub in their attic, but my attention keeps drifting to Riley. What’s taking her so long?
Ten minutes later, she finally reappears, but something’s off. Her eyes look a little red, maybe a little puffy even, and she’s not quite meeting anyone’s gaze. Has she beencrying?
“You okay?” I ask her.
“I am. Is that dessert?” she asks, and someone hands her a slice of my mom’s homemade apple pie.
Fine, so she doesn’t want to talk to me right now. At least the conversation has moved on from Sienna to Grandma’s book club drama.
“And then Margaret had the nerve to say thatPride and Prejudiceis overrated,” Grandma is saying with genuine outrage. “Overrated! Can you imagine?”
