Page 23 of The Accidental Honeymoon

"Babe," Cora says, her tone softening. She grabs my hand and sits on my bed, pinning me with her hazel gaze. "Don’t pick this guy. The man just got jilted at the altar. He's not looking for love. At best, he's looking for a rebound."

"I'm not looking for love either! I'm looking for Instagram followers... for my cakes!" I pause, holding a push-up bra in one hand, then I toss it into the suitcase. "This is just a business arrangement."

“You need a push-up bra for a business arrangement? I don’t think so.”

“I can’t believe how judgy you are! Especially about a situation that you don’t understand.” I fling a handful of clothes into my suitcase, taking my frustration out on it like a five-year-old would.

“Calla… Look at me.”

I do, but I can’t shape my face in any way but a pout.

She tucks a strand of my dark hair behind my ear and touches my face. “I love you. I'm worried about you. You always make these grand gestures for guys that don't even look your way. I want to make sure that you aren't doing that again."

“Well, you can put your mind at ease knowing that I’m perfectly fine. Rest assured; my heart is safe. There are zero feelings between Jay and me.” I pull away from her and start sorting through a pile of dresses. "The sequin dress? For a potential sponsored post. The sexy lingerie? In case we visit a luxury hotel partnership."

Cora rolls her eyes so hard I think she might strain something. "Calla. I'm serious."

I stop and look at her. My big sister always has her life together. She never takes a risk she can't calculate the outcome of. She can’t understand this. "Grand gestures are the right thing sometimes, Cora. Look at Mom and Dad! Dad won Mom over with a 25-step love letter scavenger hunt culminating in writing ‘Will you marry me?’ in fireworks. When it's the right person, they will love your antics, not run the other direction."

"Mom and Dad were unbelievably lucky. But for every success story, there are probably a hundred bad luck stories. I just want you to be practical."

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thank you. Really. But it's all under control. Jay and I agreed and shook hands. It's basically a business venture. Feelings won't ever enter the picture."

Cora stands and smooths her skirt. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," I say, and I mean it. At least, I think I mean it.

Cora checks her watch. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve got to run. I have to finish drafting these stupid briefs before Ican sleep. Text me tomorrow and we’ll set up a sister brunch.”

“Totally. Love you!” I am aware that I’m being suspiciously bright as I say my goodbyes.

Cora leaves. Suddenly, the apartment is too quiet. I look at the mess of clothes on my bed and start to pack with more care.

A part of me knows Cora is right. Another part of me is already explaining all the ways that she's wrong.

I’m immune to Jay’s charm, I tell myself. And it’s just a makeshift solution to a temporary problem.

nine

CALLA

It’s funny.I agreed to be Jay’s fake wife only yesterday. And yet today, I’m dragging my feet as Jay leads me across the Greater town square. Saying I will be his wife is one thing.

Actually doing the things I promised? It seems like anobligation. And forcing myself to smile and seem happy the entire time is just exhausting.

You can do this. You can pretend to be Mrs. Jay Rustin,I tell myself.Hell, you already married him. What’s the worst that can happen?

I keep up a stream of chatter to bolster myself as Jay and I walk down the sidewalk at dusk. Jay is looking at his phone and muttering to himself. He is dressed like a giant groundhog. Apparently, everyone who attends this event will be.

I shudder. I don’t like anthropomorphized creatures. And this pub crawl is going to be packed with them. As we approach the square, I can hear distant shouts.

Swallowing convulsively, I try to steel myself. Jay notices and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling mecloser than I’d like. The scent of his cologne is something woodsy and undoubtedly expensive. It fills my nose, making me acutely aware of his presence.

“Are you ready to start our fake honeymoon?” he asks.

“Uhh… yup.” That’s the best I can come up with.

"You’re making a face like I’m leading you to your execution. Cheer up! We're going to have fun," he assures me.

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