Page 37 of The Faking Game

“Lesson one, I think, will be saying no to me.”

Her lip curves. “Oh.”

“I bet you’ll enjoy that.”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “I think so too.”

When the second chukka comes to an end, we all clap. The score is even, and it’s set to be a good game. I stand and hold my hand out to Nora. She hesitates for only the faintest of seconds before putting her hand in mine.

Eyes track us as we walk to the bar, following our movements. I know there will be more talk about this. Talk that will reach investors, business partners, family friends and family enemies alike.

Calloway has a girlfriend.

It’s that Montclair heiress.

Isn’t that sweet?

Not only will it get my mother and her asinine matchmaking attempts off my back, but it will reach others in my family. Like my cousin, who stands to inherit Fairhaven if I’m not married by thirty. He’s been having conversations with investors for months, discussing how he might sell it, gut it, monetize it.

As if I’ll ever let that happen.

We’re stopped to chat three times before we get to the bar. Everyone wants to say how lovely the spring weather is, and to ask how my family is doing, and say thank you for the party last week if they were invited. And then they want to meet Nora.

She’s graciousness personified.

She laughs and smiles, asks about someone’s dog. I didn’t even realize they had spoken about that at the party. Wouldn’t have remembered even if I had.

We walk over to the fence. I lift an arm to wave at Alex, and he comes trotting over. There’s a huge smile on his face beneath the helmet.

“Calloway!” he says. “And little Montclair!”

I roll my eyes and reach over to grip his hand across the fence. The horse he’s on is fresh and prances with energy. “You’re in the lead.”

“Of course I am.” His voice has only a hint of Scottish left in it, softening the edges, lengthening some of the vowels. If he wants to, he can make it disappear entirely, become more English than Scot. “Hey, Nora.”

She shades her eyes and looks up at him. “Are you coming by West’s place for dinner?”

“I wish I could. I have to fly out of here in a few hours.” He looks between us and tugs gently at the reins for the horse to stay still, energy or not. “So you two are to be congratulated, then.”

“Alex,” I warn.

“Cheers to the lovely new couple! I’d drink if I had anything on me.” He’s broad-shouldered and puts a hand against his hip. “How is it, pretending to love West?”

The words tumble out of him like a joke.

“I haven’t had much practice at it,” Nora says. She’s still smiling, and it looks real. She does like Alex. “You’ve been his best friend for over a decade. Do you have any tips?”

Alex looks over at me. “I don’t know. Have we ever been lovers?”

“No,” I say placidly. “Don’t listen to anything Alex might say.”

“I know him pretty well, to be fair.” His horse tosses his head beneath him, and Alex leans forward to pat the sleek neck. “He loves it when you eat off his plate. You should do that all the time.”

“I think you’re giving me terrible advice,” Nora teases.

“He is.”

“I am not,” Alex protests. “Do me a favor and spend a lot of his money, okay? And make sure to take him to something he finds boring. Go to the ballet. Often.”

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