As I’m contemplating this new universe, I spot Jameson slinking off, his back to us.
And everything feels right on Earth too.
I recover speech, so I lift a hand toward Lake’s handsome face, pushing some soft, thick hair away, then whispering in his ear, “Score one for the fake daters. It’s one point every time you successfully nail a dating hurdle.”
“We’re going to run up so many points, beautiful,” he murmurs back against my neck, sending a shiver through me again.
“I’d like a hat trick, please.”
“Consider it done,” he says, then we pull back and he gives a wry smile, muttersfuck itand comes in for one more kiss. On my cheek. It’s tender and swoony, and I’m seeing stars.
But when he pulls back from my cheek, I’m seeing Caroline, staring bug-eyed at me, with a million questions in her eyes. And zero patience.
She grabs me by the elbow and marches me past a gurgling stream, around some bonsai trees, then out of sight of the guests.
Uh-oh. I’m in trouble. When she finally stops by a pagoda, she’s grinning. “Well played. That was a brilliant preemptive strike. You went above and beyond the call of duty with tongue and everything.” She parks her hands on her hips. “But what the hell?”
“What the hell what?” I ask, playing innocent.
She jerks her thumb toward the scene of the strike. “You didn’t tell me you and your plus-one leveled up.”
She’s staring. Waiting. Tapping her espadrille. “Oh, well,” I say, buying some time because I don’t know that I want to start telling anyone that our dating is fake, especially Caroline. The more people know, the more likely someone will let it slip. What if she whispers it to Parker one night in bed? What if he tells Jameson, and then Fresh Face finds out, and then Caroline’s perfect wedding is a mess? But I don’t want to lie to her either though, so I repeat her words back to her. “You wanted me to neutralize the threat with a preemptive strike.”
She arches the most well-groomed brow in the land. “Nothing looked neutral about that. Does that mean you’re dating for real now?”
I give a non-answer. “Everything just happened so quickly.”
“Really?”
But I feel completely truthful as I say, “Yes,” since this past week has been a whirlwind.
She beams with pride. Just positively glows. “It was because of me, right? When I said you should get back out there. That I didn’t believe in licking your wounds.”
Thank you, big sister, for taking credit.“Yep. You’re my inspo.”
“Good job,” she says with a nod. “I told you you’d need to show you’re moving on and you did. All I can say is keep it up.” She inches closer, narrows her eyes. “Because I want him to suffer, and you having the time of your life with a hot athlete is the best kind of suffering we can wreak on him.”
Sounds like a good kind of suffering if you ask me. “So you want me to keep making out with Lake in public? Just making sure I’m clear on this.”
“Public, private, wherever,” she says breezily, but then dips a hand into the pocket of her pressed navy slacks and fishes out a tissue. “But wipe that kiss off your lips and go get a makeup refresh from Fallon.” She freezes for a second, then smiles strategically. “Maybe we need to show how well the lipstick holds up with a kiss.” Her eyes turn to moons. “That’s it! I’m a genius! We’re going to do a segment on the true lipstick test of a bride and groom—the wedding kiss. Let me go tell Margot about my brilliance.”
And she’s off, returning to her domain. I follow her, and when I reach the patio where the picnic tables are set up, I find Fallon, with her tablet and stern expression. “Hi, Fallon. Can I get a reapplication?”
Like a robot, she dips her pale hand into her makeup bag, and hands me a disposable applicator. “Now, be sure to smile and show how well it holds up against an ex test.”
As I slick on some lipstick, it takes a few seconds for me to realize what the Ex Test is—the pictures with Jameson. Which means Fallon knows we were together. And Fallon’sprobably seen the Jumbotron Dump. And Fallon doesn’t want anything resembling that at the wedding her brand is sponsoring.
A flush of embarrassment crawls up my neck. “Of course,” I say, feeling chastened, like I’m the loser little sister.
I check my reflection in the phone camera. It looks perfect, like I know she’ll want it to be. “Thanks.”
She stares at me, appraising the application. At least I think that’s what she’s doing. “Yes, that’s good for a glow-up.”
That word sticks in my gut. That’s why she wanted the pics of me with a sexy smile—to prove I’m not the loser. That’s what Fresh Face gets out of me being here, showing off their makeup. To prove that rebounds work.
My stomach twists, but I understand the assignment. I drop the applicator into a bag Fallon offers for makeup recyclables.
Time to ace the Ex Test. I join the full wedding party for pics, flanking the bride on one side, with Jameson standing next to the groom. As the photographer snaps photos, I think of Lake. I imagine my plus-one making out with me in public, in private, anywhere. And I smile so hard, so well, so vibrantly.
