Page 136 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

I stare at her for a moment. “When you put it like that, it sounds pretty stupid.”

“Not stupid. Just...” Lucy sighs. “Wildly optimistic about your ability to compartmentalize emotions.”

A small, slightly hysterical laugh escapes me. “I’ve been painting him, Lucy. And I mean, really painting him. He’s ineverythingI create now. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic to fall in love,” she says, her voice gentler now. “Though your timing could use some work.” She pauses. Then: “So you didn’t trust me with this sooner because you thought I’d judge you.”

“It was easier not to talk about it. If I didn’t say anything, I could pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“That’s worked out well,” Lucy says dryly.

“I know, right?” I smile weakly. “Classic Ava disaster management.”

Lucy regards me uncertainly. “Have you considered that maybe you’re not the only one whose feelings have changed?”

I snort, they say, softly. “Gideon? Please. He’s the king of compartmentalization. Thisarrangement is literally what he wanted.”

“Is it, though?” She tilts her head. “Because from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t look at you like someone fulfilling a business obligation.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the way he looks at you when you’re not watching...” Lucy pauses. “That’s not acting, Ava.”

Don’t do that. Don’t give me hope. False hope is dangerous.

“You’ve seen us, what, three times together?” I counter.

“Six,” Lucy corrects. “Which is sad in and of itself, considering I’m your best friend. Anyway, each time, I’m telling you I saw a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Even when you were across the room talking to someone else. Remember when we were at that gallery opening last month? You were explaining your painting technique to that pretentious curator, and Gideon was supposed to be networking with potential investors?”

I nod, dipping my spoon into the soup.

“He wasn’t networking, Ava. He was watching you the whole time. With this expression...” She searches for words. “Like he couldn’t believe you were real.”

“That’s just...” I start, then falter. Because I’ve seen that look, too, in quiet moments when Gideon thinks I’m absorbed in my painting. I’ve caught glimpses of it in reflections, felt it on my skin when we’re together. But I’ve always convinced myself that I was imagining it, because it always went away when I looked him directly in the eyes.

He guards his feelings well.

“When you called me for this emergency,” Lucy says, “I thought maybe you were going to tellme you were pregnant or moving to Paris or something. I did not expect ‘surprise fake marriage.’ That was the last thing I thought I’d hear. But now that I know, things actually make more sense.”

“How so?”

“The rush. The intensity. The way you both sometimes seem to be having two conversations at once. The one everyone can hear, and another meant just for you two.” She shrugs. “I just thought it was new relationship energy. Turns out it was something else entirely.”

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, unsure I recognize the person staring back. “I’ve made such a mess of things.”

“Maybe,” Lucy concedes. “Or maybe you’re exactly where you need to be.”

I smile wanly. “In a fake marriage that’s about to end?”

“In love with someone who might love you back.”

“He doesn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Lucy interrupts. “That’s the thing about contracts, Ava. They’re just paper. They can’t actually control feelings.”

My heart does a stupid little flip at her words, which I immediately try to suppress.

“Even if that were true,” I say, “what am I supposed to do? March up to him and announce I’ve broken our agreement by falling in love with him? That would go over so well.”

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