Page 5 of Because of Me

Cassidy races after her, grabbing a key from the entry table and shoving it into Amira’s hands. “I’ll be at Callum’s.”

She turns back down the hall, glaring at me with arms folded across her chest. Taking long strides past her, I mumble a goodbye and follow Amira out the door. I reach her just before she enters the stairwell. I have no shame as I sidestep in front of her to push open the heavy door, holding it back while she struts through.

“You’re not calling me darling. No one would believe it.”

“Why not? It’s a pretty common pet name, and we have to dosomethingto convince your family we are madly in love.” I gesture for her to head down the stairs, but when she wobbles on the first step I move ahead and offer her my elbow. She ignores it, grabbing the handrail instead. Even so I descend slowly, making sure I’m only ever one step below her in case she loses her balance.

“I would never let anyone call me darling.”

“Well, what would you let someone call you?”

She lets out a short, puffed laugh. “Amira.”

Exiting the building, I fall into step beside her. For a brief moment, our hands brush together. The slightest whisper of a touch that sends shockwaves through my body. The smallest connection yet my muscles strain under its weight.

“Your dress isn’t brown, you know,” I muse as we round the corner towards the street parking. “It’s the colour of Champagne. And even if you hate it, you should know it looks stunning on you.”

I open the passenger door to my car and as Amira steps in, I can’t help but guide her with my hand on the small of her back. She gasps, only a little but enough for the sound to stir inside me. We should have spoken about this evening, discussed how much physical contact is enough to convince her family we’re an item without being too … weird. But in the handful of times we’ve seen each other in the past few months, I’ve been too chicken to ask. Too worried that if I remind her about it, she’d find some excuse to back out. So, when she never brought it up, I played along, pretending it didn’t faze me either.

Once she is settled in the seat, I step back and lean some of my weight off the roof of the car. Her perfume hits me, strong and sweet and delicious. I want to lick it off the pulse point behind her ear. But Amira stares intently through the front window like she is waiting for me to close the door and get in the driver’s seat. So, I resist the urge.

Instead, I close the door. Just before it clicks shut, I finally say what’s been on my mind since she stepped into the room in that near-perfect dress. Not loud enough for her to hear, but just to get it out so maybe I’ll stop thinking it.

The champagne colour is stunning on her.

“But you’d look better in white.”

AMIRA

“Honey?” Noah keeps his eyes on the road but reaches across the console to poke my side.

I hold in a groan, elbowing his arm away before crossing my arms over my chest. At my lack of response, Noah continues rattling off ridiculous pet names, each more far-fetched than the last.

He clicks his fingers in delight. “It’s gotta be something sweet, for all the treats you make. Sugar? Sweet cheeks? Cupcake?”

The groan finally escapes as I press my thumbs against my temples. Shaking my head, I shift in the seat to face Noah. His hands grip the steering wheel, and although he doesn’t face me, I can see how his lips turn up at my reaction.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“Oh, I will. Cupcake it is.”

My eyes roll, and I’d push back but I know how Noah is. The more I fight, the more determined he will become. And I’d never admit it to his face, but there is an element of truth in his reasoning. As ostentatious as ‘Cupcake’ is, it gives our relationship a hint of believability. And if I want my father off my back, he needs to believe Noah and I are the real deal. So, I’ll put up with a silly nickname for one night.

“Is there anything I should know about your family?” Noah asks as we pull into the carpark of the repurposed warehouse.

Noah’s comment has stress clawing its way up my spine. In hindsight, we probably should have gone over this beforeright now. But the few times I’ve seen him I was too busy tryingnotto look at the man I’m about to pretend to be in love with. Just thinking about tonight would make my cheeks burn. No one wants to pretend to be on a date, and here I am making Noah do exactly that. I mean, yes heoffered, but I doubt he knew what he was getting himself into. And I was so worried that if he found out he’d back-pedal. So, I did everything in my power not to bring it up only now I’m thinking maybe we should have come up with a plan. If for nothing else than to have avoided him calling me Cupcake all evening.

What can I tell him about my family now, as we’re pulling up for the wedding? How do I succinctly wrap everything up into an easy to consume, two or three sentences?

“Uh, everyone knows everyone. You’ll have to meet my dad at some point, but otherwise I’ll try to keep him away from you.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll hate you. Or, what you stand for.”

Noah frowns, a deep crease forming between his brows as he runs his hand through his hair. Any attempt he made at keeping his slightly too long blond waves neat melts away under his fingers. “I thought he wanted you to be with someone. Wasn’t that the whole point?”

“Believe me, it is more about control. About forcing my hand to accept the date he had lined up. He won’t be happy I’ve ‘found someone’”—I hold up my fingers in air quotes because it’s ridiculous—“he’ll be frustrated he didn’t get his way.”

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