Page 37 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

ChapterEighteen

Luke

Iwas making my way across to the guest rooms. I hoped to get all the way there without running into my mom. I managed to avoid her, but unfortunately, my dad spotted me as he was heading to his office, no doubt to take a fortifying sip of brandy before having to converse with guests again. My dad much preferred to spend his days in solitude in his office or out on his putting green. These kinds of events were strictly for my mom.

“Lucas, just realized we haven’t spoken yet. Pop into my office, would you?”

“I’m in a hurry, but all right.” I stepped into his office. It was one of those dark, pompous spaces with floor-to-ceiling wood paneling, a mahogany desk fit for a king and dark curtains drawn over the window. Even as adults, his office was off-limits unless we were invited in. Not that any of us had any interest in stepping into his office. It always smelled heavily of tobacco and whatever cologne my dad was wearing.

As predicted, he walked straight to his brandy cart and put a splash in a sifter. “I’d offer you a drink, but I know you don’t like brandy.” He took a sip. “Just a little fortification. Your mother is very distraught about this young woman you brought to the wedding. She seems sweet and pretty enough, but really Luke, it’s time you thought about something more serious, more long term. Miss Carlton seems like quite the catch.”

“Yes, and you’re an expert on that because you set your own daughter up with a dry piece of cardboard. Seriously, Dad, what were you thinking?”

He took another sip of brandy. “David has all the right family connections and money, and he’s easy-going, the opposite of your sister. They’re well suited for each other.”

“So, love plays no part in marriage then?”

He chuckled. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard my dad laugh. Hazel insisted, as a boy, he was quite the trickster and loved to horse around. I only wish I’d gotten to see that side of him. “You’re not telling me that you’re in love with that little blonde? I can see she has attributes that most men would find appealing?—”

“My god, listen to yourself. It sounds like you’re talking about a new car. Isla is funny and smart and has more compassion and kindness in her pinky finger than all of us Greysons put together.” I was surprised just how upset this conversation was making me. Normally, whatever Dad said rolled off my back. He had his ways and I had mine, and we never saw eye-to-eye on anything, but the way he was talking about Isla had triggered my temper.

“That might be the case, but compassion and kindness don’t get you ahead in life.”

“Maybe it should. I’ve got to go. Isla is expecting me.”

“I’m not through yet, son.” He spluttered the words, stunned and angry that I was walking out on his useless lecture.

“You might not be, but I am.” I walked out of the office. Rachel better not get married more than once because this one weekend was more than enough.

My temper hadn’t cooled by the time I reached the door, and I knocked too hard. Isla pulled open the door, and her smile instantly made me relax. But she sensed something was up. She was incredibly intuitive, and sometimes it felt as if we’d known each other forever instead of a few days.

Her smile faded. “Is the movie date cancelled?”

“No. I just had a chat with my dad, and this is the face I usually wear after talking to him.”

Even her grimace was adorable. “I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing too important, I hope.”

I shook my head and realized it was important to me, but I’d never let her know that she was the topic. “Just boring business stuff. Ready for the movie?”

Isla’s smile returned. “Ready.”

I held out my arm for her to take. She raised a brow at the gesture. “In case we get ambushed by you-know-who,” I explained.

Isla shivered. I stopped and turned to her with a chuckle. “Did you just shiver at the mention of my mom?”

Her hand flew to her face. “I’m so embarrassed. It was like this weird instinctual thing—fight or flight. I guess I’ve been in the midst of both of those all weekend whenever your mom is near. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what? I don’t blame you, and frankly, you’re tough as nails when it comes to my mom. Very admirable.”

“It does feel a little like combat.”

We passed several guests on the way to the elevator and got past them with just a few smiles and quick greetings. Once inside the elevator, I heard Isla release a breath. We’d made it through the house without running into my mom. We both considered that a victory.

“I’m excited. This might be the best part of the whole weekend, second only to that bathtub.”

The doors slid open. “I’m looking forward to it, too.” I waved her out.

“Do you think she’ll be exceptional?” Isla asked.

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