Page 96 of Fake Married to the Grumps

The intensity of her gaze and the firmness of her words leave no room for doubt. "I get it, Cindy. It will be fine."

Cindy holds my gaze for a moment longer, as if to drive her point home. "It better be, Bryce. Because if it does not turn out well, there will be consequences."

With that, she gives me one last pointed look before turning on her heel and walking away to say her last goodbyes to Marissa.

As I stand there, the weight of Cindy's words and Chris' earlier comments settles heavily on my shoulders. The reality of what I've asked Marissa to do, to enter into this fake marriage for the sake of my career, hits me like a ton of bricks. I can't help but wonder if I've made a mistake, if I'm being selfish by dragging her into this charade.

I shake my head. I've made my decision, and Marissa agreed to it. Everything will be fine, I tell myself. We'll play our parts, and when the time comes, we'll go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.

With a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and make my way to the car, where Marissa is already waiting for me, toying with her phone.

"So, Mr. and Mrs. Alston," she says, her voice light. "Has a nice ring to it."

A slow smirk makes an appearance on my lips. "Sounds perfect to me."

Marissa laughs, a sound like music to my ears. "Of course it does. So, do we get a fake honeymoon too?"

I chuckle, shaking my head at her antics. "As much as I'd love to whisk you away to some exotic location, I'm afraid a fake honeymoon might be pushing it."

Marissa raises her hands in surrender. "Okay."

Marissa's laughter rings out, a welcome sound that lifts my worries. I'd been afraid getting married might strain our easy friendship, but her playful banter tells me nothing has changed.

She knows me too well, but I am not the right man for her.

Chapter 17

Marissa

The silence of the night wraps around me like a suffocating blanket, squeezing the air from my lungs and leaving me gasping for breath.

I toss and turn in the unfamiliar bed, the sheets feeling scratchy against my skin, the pillow lumpy beneath my head. But no matter how hard I try, sleep remains elusive, dancing just out of reach like a teasing mirage.

With a frustrated sigh, I throw back the covers and slip out of bed, my bare feet padding softly against the cold wooden floor. I move toward the living room, drawn there by some unseen force or a desperate desire to divert my attention from my unquenchable thoughts.

As I step into the dimly lit room, I'm surprised to find Bryce sitting on the couch, a faraway look in his eyes. He startles as I approach, blinking owlishly in the soft lamplight.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, his voice rough with sleep and something else I can't quite pinpoint.

"I could ask you the same thing," I reply, sinking down onto the couch beside him. "I couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess."

Bryce nods in understanding, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

We sit in companionable silence for a moment, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant hoot of an owl outside. The severity of our situation draws us closer together, despite the gulf that still lies between us.

"Can I ask you something?" I blurt out suddenly, surprising even myself with the suddenness of my question.

Bryce raises an eyebrow, his expression guarded but curious. "Shoot," he says.

"Why do you do it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you prefer to go through women like they're disposable instead of settling down for a real relationship?"

Bryce's eyes flicker with something akin to surprise, but he quickly schools his features into a mask of indifference. "Who says I prefer it?" he counters, his tone defensive as he passes me the bottle again.

I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed by his attempt to deflect. "Come on, Bryce. Don't play dumb. You're a movie star. It's not exactly a secret that you've had your fair share of flings."

"You shouldn't believe everything you see on the internet. Not all of it is true."

I've never stopped to think that maybe all the rumors about him were fake. Rather, I was always too busy comparing myself to the models and actresses and trying to convince myself that Bryce didn't go for plain girls like me.

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