Page 28 of Married to the Frenemy

“When should we plan to have the wedding?”

“You need to be out of your place by the end of January, right?”

She nods.

“We’ll need to do it before then. What’s your availability?”

“Now that I’m no longer working at the casino, I have more flexibility. I’ve picked up a few more dog walking clients from Angie, but I’m sure she’ll give me the day off for my wedding.”

“Okay.” I pull out my cell and navigate to my calendar. “The twenty-eighth might cut it close. What do you think about the twenty-first? We could start moving your stuff out sooner if you’d rather wait until the twenty-eighth. I don’t?—”

“No sense in waiting. May as well get it over with. The twenty-first is fine.”

“Okay,” I reply, although the way she makes it sound like she’s going in for some uncomfortable medical procedure stings.

But this is what we agreed to. A marriage in name only. Nothing more.

The more we act as if it’s merely a business transaction, the better off we’ll both be in the end.

And anytime I fool myself into thinking maybe it can be real, all I’ll have to do is look at her leg and see the scar that still runs the length of her thigh.

All because of me.

CHAPTER TWELVE

HALEY

“You can do this,” I tell myself as I study my reflection in the floor-length mirror in Grady’s office on the second floor of the tasting room. “It’s not real. And it will be over in nine months at most, at which point you’ll hopefully have had enough time to make your cake business profitable.”

I’ve given myself this same pep talk countless times over the past few weeks, especially as we neared January twenty-first.

When we set this date, it seemed so far off, but it arrived practically overnight. Now, I’m mere minutes away from becoming Beckham Lawrence’s wife.

When I told Maggie last week, I nearly called it off after I saw how excited she was. Because I’ll eventually have to break her heart when we end this charade.

Then I reminded myself why I’m doing this. To give her the life she deserves. So we no longer have to worry about where we’ll live or whether I’ll make enough tips to buy groceries.

“Are you decent, Haley?” Parker’s voice sounds from the other side of the door, along with a gentle knock.

“You can come in.” I refocus my attention on the mirror, smoothing my hands down the satin material of my dress as she slips inside.

“Oh, Haley,” she sighs, walking toward me and wrapping me in her embrace. “You look beautiful.”

“It’s not real,” I say, unsure if it’s for her benefit or mine.

As I went through the motions of getting ready this morning, from having Beckham’s mom style my hair in a classic chignon, then having my makeup professionally done by one of the other girls at the salon, I’ve had to remind myself of that more and more.

That’s been the hardest thing about this entire ordeal. I’m forced to make everyone believe our story is the sort of fairytale romance people love to read about in books or see on the big screen. That we were childhood friends who eventually fell in love. That we never forgot about each other, even when life tore us apart. That we eventually found our way back to each other.

That we’ve been waiting for this day for years and don’t want to wait another second, which is why we’re getting married right away.

So far, not a single person has questioned the story. Probably because it’s true… Mostly, anyway.

“The marriage may not be, but you still look gorgeous,” Parker says with all the sincerity I’ve come to expect from my best friend.

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

Since I was short on time, I went with a non-traditional dress. I didn’t feel right spending Beckham’s money on anything extravagant anyway. Luckily, I found a retro-style cream dress with three-quarter sleeves that’s fit to my waist before flaring out, stopping at my knee. I added a fifties-inspired hat with a birdcage veil to complete the look. Couple the dress with my hair and bright red lips, and I’ve never felt so glamorous.

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