Page 34 of The Love Chase

We sat there for several minutes, each shedding a few silent tears as Luna lounged on the floor offering support.

Jameson cleared his throat. “So…do you need a pen?” he quipped, handing the contract to me before whipping a pen out of his shirt pocket.

I laughed, wiping the tears from my eyes. Taking the pen from him, I pushed off the couch so that I was kneeling in front of the coffee table. I flipped to the back page and paused, the ink hovering just above the paper.

“Jam-Jam?” I looked over my shoulder at him. “Let’s not tell Mom this is fake. She’s had enough heartache and worrying in her life. She loves Liam and I’d rather her believe this is a real marriage and that we’re actually in love. At least for now. Maybe I’ll tell her the truth at some point, but for now, let’s keep it a secret. Okay?”

Jameson’s brow furrowed as he studied my face for a few moments. “It’s not your job to protect her, Em.”

“I know. I just…please, Jamie.” I couldn’t find the right words to explain how much I wanted this marriage to be real, and to not give my mom any reason to be disappointed in me or Liam. Not that she would be. Knowing her, she’d understand. But she was finally doing better after her long battle with cancer, and I couldn’t stand the thought of being the reason that bright smile slid from her face. I didn’t want to give her any reason to worry.

“All right, Em. If that’s what you want.”

I breathed a sigh of relief before returning my attention to the contract.

Here goes nothing.

I scribbled my signature on the line.

There. That was it.

I was officially engaged to Liam Walker.

Emma

Bridget had gone overboard.

Though, even overboard was an understatement.

How had she pulled this off in the few short days that had passed since I signed the contract? I knew Bridget was intense but this…

This was insanity.

It quite literally looked like peonies had thrown up everywhere.

Row after row of wooden chairs—which I called twig seats because they looked like a bunch of sticks held together with twine to resemble something close to a chair—were lined on either side of a white velvet strip that led to an arch smothered in pink and red peonies at the end. Each row of chairs was lined with flowers too.

Even though today was only the rehearsal dinner, it looked like Bridget had had people here setting up all day long, getting the venue—AKA the Walker Farm—ready for tomorrow’s shindig.

The shindig being my wedding.

Ugh.

At the thought of marrying Liam, my armpits instantly started soaking through my tank top. It had been days since I had signed the contract that required me to become Liam’s wife, and I had had time to get used to the insane amount of money listed in the contract, but even so, half of it was currently sitting in my bank account, and I nearly fainted every time I saw all those zeros.

I knew Liam was successful, but dang. Needless to say, it would be enough to cover my loan payments and then some. In fact, I could have paid off my loan right that minute if I wanted to. And when the other half of the money was deposited after the wedding, then it would be like Bridget said; I’d be set for a long, long time.

But the instant peace I had at that realization quickly fizzled out because, in order to have all that money, I had to marry Liam Walker.

My best friend whom I’d hidden feelings from for years.

The guy who was country music’s biggest star and came with fame and fortune and a reputation that I was somehow supposed to fix. I was still skeptical about Bridget’s plan. I didn’t see how marrying him would fix anything, but I needed that money as much as I wanted to help him in whatever way I could, so here we were.

Being Liam Walker’s wife didn’t scare me—not really. As challenging as I imagined it would be, I could deal with the tabloids and the pictures, the ridiculous clothes I’d no doubt have to wear, and stand at Liam’s side and play the part of his wife.

No, that wasn’t what scared me.

What scared me was the question of how I would continue to hide my feelings for my best friend when we’d have to live together, sleep in the same house, kiss, hold hands, and pretend that every time he touched me it didn’t light me up from my head to my toes.

---