Page 30 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

When Orson dropped me home on Sunday evening, I was completely exhausted. You would have thought, after the utterly soothing weekend, I would have felt refreshed, but I think my body is just not used to being in such a relaxed state. The four-hour journey probably didn’t help; I actually fell asleep on the drive back.

Before I got out of the car, Orson turned to me and said, “Well, that’s us married. When do you want to move your things into the apartment?”

“I suppose it will look suspicious if I don’t do it pretty soon,” I replied.

“I agree. I can send over a moving truck tomorrow, if you’d like.”

I shook my head. “I won’t need a moving truck. If it’s only going to be four months, like you said, I don’t need to bring everything.”

“You’re right.” He nodded.

“I can pack what I need in my car. Just send me the address.”

“Here,” he said, pulling a key from his pocket. “This is yours.”

I took it from him and slipped it into my pocket. “Okay. Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

When I trudged up the stairs to my apartment, I didn’t unpack, and I didn’t brush my teeth; in fact, I only just managed to get undressed. Falling into bed, my head hit the pillow, and I was asleep instantly.

My internal alarm clock woke me this morning. That’s what more than twelve years of getting up at four a.m. does to you. It’s a good thing, too. I was so tired last night that I forgot to set my normal alarm.

At 8:30 a.m., Jasmine floats into the bakery with a beaming smile on her face.

“Well,” she says, tugging off her bag and jacket, “spill the beans.”

While she’s clearly excited, I’ve been dreading this moment all morning. I’ve had a hundred different conversations in my head, trying to figure out how I’m going to word it, but without even thinking about it, I thrust my left hand at her.

For a second, she frowns, and I watch all the tiny micro-expressions on her face as her brain tries to comprehend the truth that is so obvious. And then her mouth falls open, and she stares at me, dumbfounded.

I’ll be honest; it’s the first time I’ve seen the woman speechless.

It takes a whole other minute before she can speak, and when she does, she says, “What did you do?”

Okay. It isn’t quite the reaction I was expecting, but under the circumstances, I can’t blame her, can I? I mean, Orson and I have been dating for two weeks. Who the heck gets married after dating for two weeks?

Jasmine’s eyes are still wide when she goes into interrogation mode. “When did this happen? Where did you go? Are you crazy, woman? When did he ask to marry you?”

“Jasmine, it’s all right.”

“It certainly is not all right. Good lord, woman, what were you thinking?”

I’m feeling a bit attacked now, and I can’t say it feels very nice. My smile, as false as it was, has faded, and sadness washes over me. “Are you not happy for me?”

Seeing my face, Jasmine suddenly backtracks. “Oh, my darling. I’m so sorry.” She lifts her arms and throws them around me, pulling me into her. Rocking me from side to side, she continues, “You know I only want the best for you, Lily. I worry about you.”

When she eventually releases me, she looks at me apologetically. “I suppose I’m just a bit blown away. It’s such a surprise.”

“For me too,” I say. “But we were in Vegas, and we both said how cool it would be if we got married. It was a joke at first, but the more we talked about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. I know it’s all a bit of a whirlwind, but I guess when you know, you know.”

“But he’s only been here for five minutes, Lily. And you’ve been dating him for even less.” Jasmine protests. “How can you know in such a short period of time?”

“Well, we have known each other for years,” I counter.

Orson told me it was going to be hard for people to believe at first, but I didn’t think I was going to feel so bad telling the humongous lie. Why, I don’t know—but as Jasmine goes on, I’m tempted to come clean and tell her the whole truth.

After heaven knows how many more questions, she finally settles and smiles. “Well, I did tell you he liked you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I say, feeling a little easier now that she appears to be coming to terms with it.

---