Page 31 of Snared

“It’s my sister, Josh. My fuckingsister.”

“And then it’s parents. Other family members. Friends. Charlie, we have to get through the next few months. I bet she’ll understand after this is all over if you want to explain it to her then,” he said.

“Fine.” I took in a deep breath. Dwelling on the mess wasn’t going to change anything. Josh was annoyingly right.

“Fine? You agree to stay married?” he asked.

“Yes. But only until the end of the tour. And separate rooms,” I said.

“I’ll get suites. Separate beds. Appearances, remember?”

“Fine. Separate beds,” I said, resigned to my short-term future as—I shuddered—Josh Harrison’s wife.

He was right. This was the best solution.

“Band meeting in my room at eight. We’ll tell them what’s going on, and no one else is going to know. This is the right thing to do, Charlie. Trust me,” he said.

And then, with a nod, he walked out of my room, and I sank down on the bed.

What the hell was I thinking?

My phone buzzed again, shaking me out of my daze.

“Hi, Jules. Do you know what time it is?” I said to my sister.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking married, Lottie?Married?” she screeched.

I winced. “Please. Why so loud?”

“You are going to tell me what the hell is happening on that bus. And right this minute,” she said.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Yes. I got married. It was a whirlwind thing; it just happened.” I was grateful that my sister wasn’t here in person. Could she hear the lie in my voice?

“I knew you had a thing for that manager of yours. Always so prickly about him. I cannot believe you got married without me though. Mama and Daddy are going to be pissed,” she said.

“I know, I know,” I said, not acknowledging the prickly comment. He fucking irritated me, so of course, I was prickly when his name came up. It meant nothing, but I’d let my sister come to her own conclusions. She’d be pissed when I told her the truth, but Josh was right. The fewer people who knew the truth, the better.

“I want to hear about everything. How did he propose? I want to see pictures. Did Elvis marry you? Honestly, Lottie, in Vegas?” She paused and laughed. “Mama is going to freak.”

Oh god, my mother.“I know she will. And we decided while we were in Vegas. Spur of the moment and everything. But, I promise, no Elvis,” I said. At least, I didn’t remember any Elvis. Not that I remembered very much from that night.

I hated the fact that there was a huge chunk of time. Tequila was permanently banned from my mouth.

“Jules, I have to get some sleep. Wait, why are you up so early?” It wasn’t even six a.m. on the East Coast.

“Have to be at the hospital by six thirty and wanted to get a quick workout in first,” Jules said.

“That is so wrong, Jules. So wrong. I could never get up and work out that early.”

“Well, some of us don’t get a full cardio routine banging on drums. We have to use a treadmill,” she quipped.

I grinned. Drumming had kept me in shape since I’d started, and I never wanted to stop. That’s why I agreed to this marriage lie. Giving the scandal time to die down before doing something new to set it off—like getting it annulled—would hopefully keep my career intact.

“Gotta go, Jules. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Sure. Go. Enjoy your man and the tour. You’re getting everything you ever wanted, Lottie, and I couldn’t be prouder,” she said. “Love you lots, Lots.”

“Love you too, Jule,” I replied, ending the call and flopping back on the bed. Going along with this fake marriage was the right thing to do, but I hated every minute of lying to my sister.

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