I force my brain to tune back into Jules’s rant, while I listen to the smooth sound of her voice. Christ, why couldn’t I come up with something normal to say when our mothers asked what I like most about my fiancée?
There are a million things I find attractive about Jules—including her voice, apparently—but my stupid mouth blurtedresourcefulness? For real?
I mean, yeah, she’s scrappy as hell, and I admire that. But saying that makes us sound more like business partners than lovers.
Which makes sense…because we are business partners.
Not lovers. Not lovers. Not lovers.
She’s still listing out all the ways in which this arrangement of ours is a disaster. “Your kid doesn’t know me. My mom assumes you’re pressuring me into this. And your mom probably thinks I’m some floozy who’s after your money. Oh, and you called me ‘Julia’ at one point! Did you see my mother gawking at you? That’s most definitely not my name, and she knows I’d strangle anyone who calls me that. In fact, you’re lucky you’re still alive.”
I let out a chuckle. “Murdering your fiancébeforethe wedding? Probably not the best idea when you’re trying to fulfill a morality clause.”
“Lincoln, this is so not funny! We have too much on the line to screw this up,” she argues, reminding me of this business deal I so desperately need. “If we can’t convince our moms, how the hell are we going to fool the clever old woman who cooked up said morality clause?!”
“You’re right. You’re right,” I say, sitting up in my bed. “We just need some more practice.”
“Practice?” she barks out.
“If you want to be good at anything, you need to work at getting better,” I say calmly.
“And how do you suggest we do that?” Jules questions.
“We need to tell more people about our relationship.” I ignore the rock in my stomach when I say that.
Jules’s voice tells me that my suggestion is only making her more anxious. “More people like who?”
“Easton and Alba. Let’s start with them,” I say. “On a video call. We’ll test out our news with them. See how it goes. See what we need to work on.”
Jules is quiet for a moment. Then she sighs. “Fine. I’ll be at your place within the hour.”
14
JULES
My knee is bouncing as Easton and Alba appear on Lincoln’s laptop screen. The two of them sit in bed with a large bowl of ice cream, gaping at Lincoln and me like they’re witnessing a UFO abduction in real time.
I had expected that the hardest part of this marriage arrangement with Lincoln would be telling my mom and my great-grandmother. But this video call is hard for a whole different reason.
Alba is my best friend in the whole wide world.We’ve been through everything together. It started all the way back in elementary school when she elbowed Joey Quinn in the ribs for breaking my necklace at recess. I had her back in the early days, when she struggled to raise Jagger on her own. She’s been there through all my family drama. Even now, she’s there on that laptop screen, wearing one of my most recent T-shirt designs. She hasalwaysbeen my biggest supporter.
Which is why it’s so hard to lie to her now.
I’m sort of glad that we’re having this conversation over video call. It’s private enough that we’re not at a bar struggling to talk over the loud music and the rowdy drunks. But also, havingthis talk through a computer screen allows me some chance of being able to mask my inner freak-out from the person who knows me better than anyone.
Alba’s eyes are as big as saucers as she stares at Lincoln and me, sitting side by side in two stiff chairs in his home office. “Wow. You guys aretogether…?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, we are.”
She frowns at me. “Oh my gosh, Jules. I can’t believe you kept this from me.”
The knots in the pit of my stomach twist and bury themselves deeper.
“I’m an awful, no good, very bad friend. Sorry.” I cringe.
“Actually, we’re a little more serious than that,” Lincoln chimes in, awkwardly stretching an arm around my shoulders.
Easton slides the ice cream bowl onto the nightstand and leans closer to the screen before he asks, “Serioushow?”
