I snorted. “At least you’re getting it now.”
He looked up at me and ruined it. “Just try, Will. Please.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Keep pretending to be Jesse,” he said. “Get him into Eliza’s good graces so that by the time the wedding comes around, she’s prepared.”
“That’s the worst thing I’ve heard all day, and that’sreallysaying something considering my morning has included a hungover influencer and a half-dressed stranger.”
“Just do it for now.”
“No.” I lifted my chin. “Absolutely not.”
“Jesse will come around,” he said, his voice gentler now, but it was also once again edged with that steely determination. “I’m confident of it.”
I shook my head. “You’re putting a lot of faith in a man who once tried to pay a bartender with arcade tokens and a movie ticket.”
“He was twenty.”
“Twenty-three.”
Alex waved a dismissive hand. “Either way, it was a long time ago. Just leave it to me. I promise you, he will come around.”
I wasn’t so sure. Actually, I was extremely sure hewouldn’t, and even if he did, even if by some miracle Alex convinced him to agree to this, there was still Eliza.
Feeling weirdly territorial over her, I shifted slightly, trying to find a way to explain that she was too sweet and too nice for this mess without sounding like I had any kind of personal stake. Obviously, I didn’t.
“Eliza isn’t like Jane and Kate,” I said after a long beat. “She’s not loud or assertive.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, which was fair. “Loud and assertive? Jane’s going to love that one.”
I rolled my eyes. “What I mean is that she keeps her head down. She’s quiet. She’s responsible. She’s the one holding everything together while Winnie runs around lighting fires.”
He watched me carefully and I had the sudden, horrible realization that I might be talking too much. So I shrugged and started back toward his door. “All I’m asking is that you think about her in all this too, Alex. Don’t only think about Dad. That’s it.”
“Okay.” He nodded as I opened his door. “You’ll try?”
I jerked my chin in a nod I hated. Then I left with a sickening feeling in my gut that he wasn’t wrong. The truth—and the problem—was that Dad wouldn’t let this go, and after what I’d been told about James Roderick, I doubted he would back down either.
After my decidedly less than successful meeting with Alex, the rest of the day dragged. By the time I finally got back to my house, it felt like the day had lasted approximately six years. I loosened my tie, tossed my keys on the counter, and pulled out my phone.
I needed to talk to my brother. The one I’d shared a womb with. This shit with him marrying a Roderick was getting out of hand and I couldn’t cover for him forever. As it happened, I also didn’t think Eliza would be a good match for him at all, but without him here, there wasn’t much I could do.
The train was leaving the station and this genuinely wasn’t a joke anymore. Naturally, Jesse didn’t pick up.
The line rang and rang, but eventually, I got his voicemail. I wasn’t normally in the habit of leaving messages, but desperate times called for desperate measures, so I waited impatiently for the beep, and when it came, I didn’t waste any time.
“You need to call me back, Jess. Immediately. Not a week from now or a month. Today. Now.” I paused for a beat. “I’m serious. Call me back or I will come to Florida and drag you back home myself.”
After hanging up, I cursed out loud and dropped my head back to glare at the ceiling.He’s not going to call back, no matter what I said.
The fact of the matter was that Jesse had already given Alex his answer—no. To his mind, that probably meant it was over. It should’ve meant that, but at this rate, I was going to have to pretend to be him for the rest of my goddamn life and Alex would keep telling me to try because Jesse would eventually come around.
I shook my head and stalked into my kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and pouring myself a stiff drink. Technically, it was still afternoon, but I felt like I’d earned this.
With my tumbler in my hand, I finally drifted back to the living room and sat down on my couch. Pulling out my phone again, I considered making another call to Jesse. Maybe if I just kept at it, he’d eventually take pity on me and answer, but instead, I clicked into my internet browser.
I wanted to know more about my—his—fake, future fiancée. Thankfully, these days, there was an app for that. Many apps, in fact, so I typed her name into my browser, expecting to find at least a few social media profiles.
