When I wake, she’s no longer in my arms. I glance around the room, but she’s not here. The irrational fear that she’s left me bubbles up inside me. I can’t bear the thought of being apart from her.
“Allison?” I call, hating the frantic tone in my voice.
“I’m in the bathroom,” she calls back.
Relief floods my senses as I will my heartrate to return to its normal rate.Of course, didn’t leave me. We’re here for her sister’s wedding. Where would she go?
But she’s going to leave eventually. This is fake… don’t forget that.
She steps out of the bathroom and my jaw falls open. If I thought she was a knockout before, it’s nothing compared to now. She’s wearing a red cocktail dress, fitted at the waist and hips before flaring into a trumpet skirt. It hugs all of her curves exactly right.
“You look phenomenal,” I tell her.
She beams at me, twirling in a circle. “Do you like it? I usually don’t wear dresses that are so form-fitting, but the girl at the dress shop talked me into it.”
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” I tell her honestly.At least, not until tonight, when I get to see you in nothing at all…
I pull my suit from the garment bag and start undressing in front of her. Her cheeks flush and she turns back to the bathroom.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” she says.
I laugh. “Feel free to look, sweetheart. That’s one of the perks of being my fake fiancée.”
I strip slowly. I should probably be less cocky, but I know I’m a good-looking guy. I work hard for this muscle definition, and I want the woman I’m falling for to see and appreciate it.
The woman I’m falling for.
The realization hits me like a freight train.
I was halfway in love with her last night before I knew anything about her. But now that I’ve seen how her face lights up when she talks about her students—and how it falls at any mention of her family—there’s no denying the fact that I have very strong feelings for her.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known—inside and out.
And before this fake relationship comes to an end, I’m going to make sure she knows it.
Six
Allison
Mitch and I walkinto the rehearsal dinner and all heads swivel toward us. I immediately start to wilt beneath the spotlight of their eyes.
Mitch looks like James Bond in his tailored suit. In our room, I’d felt beautiful at his side, loving the way my dress hugs my curves. Now, I feel like a whale.
My mother walks toward us, looking me up and down with disapproving eyes. “Really, Allison,” she says quietly. “Did you have to wear red? You look like a common harlot. I suppose it’s too late to change now, though. People have already seen you.”
I flinch, feeling as though I’ve been doused in cold water. After more than thirty years in the spotlight of my mother’s scrutiny,you’d think I’d have developed tougher skin by now. Insults should roll right off. Instead, they accumulate, growing into an ever-larger avalanche of pain that threatens to crash down on me at any moment.
Mitch stiffens beside me, and it pains me even more to know that he heard my mother’s hurtful words.What must he think of me?
Then I see his face. He’s wearing the same expression he had when he shoved the creep at the bar. He opens his mouth to say something to my mother, but I lace my fingers in his. “Mitch,” I say quickly, “this is my mother, Evelyn McAffee. Mother, this is—” I freeze, realizing my blunder a moment too late.
My mother’s eyes narrow. “Mitch? I thought your fiancé’s name was Adam?”
Panicked, my eyes dart between Mitch and my mother. Have I blown our cover story already?
Mitch’s face splits into a friendly smile. “I’m Dr. Adam Mitchell. Allison is the only person who calls me Mitch. It’s a bit of a pet name, you see.”
Mother nods her head. “I see. Personally, I hate pet names. But Allison has always been prone to sentimentality.”
