Page 16 of Finally Moore

Apparently, tequila works better than any truth serum…

“My mother doesn’t know.” I sigh. For all her faults, this isn’t one of them. I mean, I’m sure she’d still take their side. Trisha is the daughter my mom always wanted, and Kasey can do no wrong in her mind. But still, my mom bringing them along wasn’t done in malice or to rub their relationship or my failures in my face.

“No, but that step-bitch of yours knows exactly what she did. Then to bring that jackass with her, flaunting him in front of you with her picture-perfect family. Fuck them. Now, we have to go out tonight. Show them all the great dick you’re getting by not being tied down to that asshole.”

“He’s not an asshole.”

“He cheated on you with your stepsister. If that doesn’t make him the biggest asshole of a century, I’m not sure what does.”

“I told you we were on a break.” It still stings, but the level of betrayal is different.

“What world do you live in? Unless it’s friends with benefits or a one-night stand, sisters—even stepsisters—don’t sleep with each other’s boyfriends. No, wait, I’m sorry…fiancés.”

“I didn’t officially say yes. It was why we were on a break.” God, I wish I never would’ve told her. It’s not nearly as black and white as she’s making it sound.

“Scarlett, I love you, but what they did was wrong. You said that you needed time to think and then your grandpa died. Then while you were halfway across the country, settling his affairs, that bitch sank her claws into your boyfriend or fiancé… whatever you want to call him. At the end of the day, he was yours and she betrayed you.”

I know I used to feel that way. There was a time I hated them both. Now… I guess I’m not so sure. “Technicalities aside, I can’t—”

“Bullshit. You’re a grown-ass woman. I don’t care if they’re visiting. You need to show that cunt you’ve moved on. That you’re not some lonely workaholic who lives off smut and top-of-the-line vibrators.”

“I can’t go and cheat on my fiancé.” Hannah’s jaw drops, so I clarify, “Fake fiancé.” I wave her off. “It’s a long, stupid story. But the point is, if we go out and flaunt my hooking up, I’d becheatingand that would look bad.” I take a deep, calming breath. “They’re going home the day after Christmas. I just need to make it through the week, then I’ll never have to see them again.” At least, not those two. Brittany is getting old enough where she can come stay with me and escape the West Coast while on break from school.

“Um, back up, fiancé? When did this little arrangement happen?”

“It’s fake,” I remind her.

“Fake or not, you need to fill me in. Who are younotgetting married to?”

“Scott Moore,” I whisper.

“SCOTT MOORE!” She stands, grips my shoulders, and shakes me. “As inMoore Books and CoffeeScott Moore. The guy you’ve been low-key stalking for over a year now?”

Fucking tequila. “I have not been low-key stalking him. He happens to be friends with Tilly and runs theonecoffee shop in town.”

“You know damn well the only reason you trek across town almost every morning to get your muffin and coffee isn’t because of how delicious they are. Nope, it’s because of how damnscrumdiddlyumptiousthe man behind the counter is.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t go this morning. So there.” I stick out my tongue.

“And why’s that?” She leans back and crosses her arms over her chest in challenge.

“I made my own coffee.” When she doesn’t appear satisfied by that answer, I add, “Fine. It seemed awkward to go there this morning.”

She waves a hand, urging me to continue.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. It was hard. He was being so sweet, even agreed to stay with me in my little hermit hole. There was even a point when we were discussing how we fake fell in love that I thought he might kiss me. But then my foot slid right into my mouth and I totally killed the mood. It sucked. I was so horny all night but didn’t want to risk him waking up hearing me take care of business. The curtains aren’t exactly soundproof, you know. Anyway, when I got up in the middle of the night, I saw him sleeping on the couch—if you can even call it one. He’s so tall his legs were hanging off the edge. Bruce was sprawled out on top of him. And I felt like shit because he’s doing all this for me. And what’s he getting out of the deal? Back problems.”

“Oh, Scar, you’re so naïve.” She shakes her head and chuckles.

“What? Why?”

“There is only one reason a guy would offer to be your fake soon-to-be husband and agree to sleep in that fire hazard of yours.”

“It’s not a fire hazard,” I’m quick to counter.

“It’s insulated with books, and you have a space heater. It’s a death trap waiting to happen. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

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