Page 35 of The Wedding Fake
I laughed. “I don’t know. A fairy or something, right?”
“Hang on,” Emily said suddenly, and I heard a muffled coffee order that let me know Emily had made it to the front of the line. “A wood nymph sounds like a bug,” she said suddenly, and I jolted out of my thoughts, not having realized she was back.
“I feel like I’m going to the renaissance faire in that thing,” I whined.
Emily laughed once more. “I feel like I’m going to Medieval Times. Are there turkey legs at the reception?”
My smile spread. “Nope. There’s fish. Outside. In August.”
Emily groaned. “Dear God, do not eat that. I’m telling you this as your doctor.”
We both laughed, and I appreciated the single moment of levity. “Do you think she’s happy?” I asked finally.
Emily sighed thoughtfully. “Nora? Who can ever tell?”
I stared at the little glow-in-the-dark stars that dotted my childhood bedroom’s ceiling. “I hope so. Would you ever do something like that whole van-life thing?”
“Thank you,” Emily said, and by the muffled quality of her voice I assumed she was thanking the barista. “Someone at work took a trip where you ride a horse across France from castle to castle,” Emily said, her voice clear again.
“That sounds cool,” I replied.
Em chuckled. “She said her ass hurt and castles are creepy.”
“Oh.”
“And no, I’m not looking for vans or horses.”
“What's your dream trip, then?” I asked.
Emily’s sigh was uncharacteristically dreamy. “Anywhere, with the right person.”
“Anywhere?” I shot back skeptically.
“Yes,” Em replied emphatically. “If I was holed up with the right guy, I could enjoy anything.”
“Like, a roadside motel in Scranton?” I joked.
Em hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. Don’t be cynical just because your dream guy turned out to be an online stripper.”
My dream guy. I rolled the words around in my head, afraid they were accurate. “I already told you he’s not a stripper, but Em?” I hesitated, the need to keep my secret warring with my need to talk through all my thoughts.
“What’s up, Claire Bear?”
I inhaled deeply. “We aren’t dating. I met Hudson when I was trapped in that elevator and he’s really nice and I wanted some way to keep Mom off my back with Grant…” I trailed off, positive this explanation wasn’t good enough to explain why I decided to bring a fake boyfriend to stay with the family for a week.
“I thought you got stuck in the elevator after you told me about him?” Emily asked. Trust Emily to remember every tiny, little detail that made up my big, embarrassing lie.
“I did. Hudson lives in my building, so I knew of him before the elevator thing.”
“Oh, so you had a crush on him?” I could hear the smile in her voice, and it irritated me.
Because I certainly hadn’t had a crush on Hudson. He’d been the asshole who left his mail out front. That was all. I shook my head, knowing it wasn’t worth trying to explain to Emily. “No, I didn’t. I just knew him.”
“Okay,” she said, her tone suggesting she didn’t believe me but wouldn’t press. “But he’s obviously interested in you. This isn’t all fake.”
A memory of kissing Hudson flashed into my mind, and another of Hudson asking me on a date. Nothing about last night had been fake. “That was before the videos,” I said flatly.
“If he’s not actually a stripper, who cares about those videos?”