Page 18 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

Her kindness tugs at my heartstrings, reminding me how much I used to love spending time here.

The Staffords are as close to a perfect family as they can get. They love each other unconditionally and have always stood together. As a kid, I envied Cash’s relationship with his parents; they were so caring and attentive. In contrast, my dad was cruel and vindictive, and my mom was more interested in escaping reality and indulging in a lavish lifestyle than taking care of Theo and me.

“You weren’t this excited when Marlow and I announced our engagement or when Presley told us she and Jack are getting a summer home in Aspen Grove,” Dylan chimes in.

“He has a point, Mom,” Presley adds. “We shouldn’t be surprised, considering Cash has always been your favorite.”

“You’re just jealous.” Cash sticks his tongue out.

“That’s enough,” Johanna scolds. “I love you all equally and won’t have you argue otherwise. I’m just delighted to have Everly as a daughter-in-law. It’s a dream come true.” Tears trickle down her cheeks, and she quickly wipes them away.

My chest tightens at her response. She had a soft spot for me when I was a kid, which meant a lot to me since I’ve never been close to my own mom.

Cash gives me a warning look, silently urging me not to break the news that this isn’t real. Nervously tapping my fingers against my thigh, I weigh my options. Based on her initial reaction, Johanna will be crushed if we come clean, but my guilty conscience tells me that deceiving her isn’t right.

This is all Cash’s fault. How dare he make this situation more complicated? We wouldn’t be in this situation if he had told his family the truth. I should have stood my ground back in Vegas, returned to London alone, and let our lawyers deal with the fallout.

Damn that tequila.

“Why is your mother crying?” Cash’s dad emerges from the hallway, his voice filled with concern.

He runs his fingers through his short black hair as his gaze sweeps over his kids, pausing when he notices me standing on the other side of Johanna. A puzzled expression crosses his face; I’m probably the last person he expected to see standing in his entryway.

“Don’t worry, Mike, they’re happy tears,” Johanna assures him between hiccups. “Cash and Everly got married yesterday. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Mike pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up on his nose, giving Cash and me cautionary glances. “Yeah, that’s great news,” he says, sounding unsure as he tries to appease his wife.

My conscience won’t let this go on any longer, and my inner voice shouts at me to end this charade.

“Would it be alright if I talk to Cash outside?” I ask.

His face pales at my request.

“Of course, sweetie.” Johanna smiles at me. “Just don’t take too long. The photographer is out back, and we don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“This will be quick,” I promise as I tug Cash’s arm, dragging him onto the porch. He closes the door behind us, and as soon as we’re out of his family’s sight, I yank my hand away.

“What the hell was that?” I whisper-shout. “You were supposed to tell them the truth, not make your mom think this marriage is legitimate. She’s going to be devastated when she finds out that not only did we lie to her, but this”—I gesture between us—“isn’t real.”

I’m wary when he flashes me a playful grin.

“What?” I ask with my hands on my hips.

“Oh, come on, you can’t deny our chemistry,” he says, taking a step closer to me.

I shake my head in denial. “You’re imagining things.”

My visceral reaction when he walked into the hotel bar was a fluke. I’m chalking it up to an instinctual reaction caused bysexual tension that’s been building up for the past two years. It has nothing to do with Cash.

If I say it enough times, I’ll believe it.

“If that’s the case, care to explain why you stared daggers at every woman who dared to look my way? Or better yet, why you couldn’t stop eye-fucking me last night?”

“Apparently whiskey makes you delusional because I was not eye-fucking you last night, Stafford,” I retort.

“Sure you weren’t.” He cradles my face, gliding his thumbs against my skin. For a moment, I forget my reservations and lean into the comforting warmth of his hand.

He can get me to drop my guard without even trying. I think it’s because he’s familiar, evoking memories of our childhood friendship when I trusted him implicitly. My instincts tell me I can do the same now, but my mind isn’t so sure.

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