Page 25 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
Their conversation ends, and it all becomes silent around me. I stay where I am, shred a few more tears, and walk away from the balcony. Seeing Karen and Mike in the living room, I thank them for the fabulous party, and go back to my bedroom. I head straight to the bathroom and turn on the faucet. I sulk for a moment while waiting for water to fill the big tub, but the moment I sink into the water, I forget all the annoyance and regret. Boy, I’m glad it’s over, and I don’t have to keep lying.
Chapter 11
Alex
Whew. I let out a sigh of relief when the truck of the party planning company leaves the property. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Sure, everyone gave a look that showed their disbelief. Even though everyone was also smiling and congratulating me, I sensed their skepticism about my relationship with Vivian. The age gap is huge. Of course. I don’t blame them.
My eyes seldom left Vivian during the party. Goddamn. She was breathtaking in that sparkling little dress. I knew she got curves, but that dress only accentuated them. She looked like a sexy little princess. When we danced together, I couldn’t help pulling her a bit too close and got all horny.
I return to the house and head toward the living room, where a few family friends linger. My eyes search for Vivian and soon find her speaking to David, the son of my mom’s friend, still a college kid. I don’t like the way he looks at her. Damn. I meant it when I told her not to wear the dress when I wasn’t around. This is precisely what I worried about: guys won’t be able to keep their eyes off her. I walk across the room to join their conversation and to remind David he’s speaking to my fiancée when a hand shoots out and grabs me. It’s my sister Sam. “Alex, Sit down. I haven’t seen you for years. We’ve got a lot of catch-up to do.”
I frown a bit. First of all, we saw each other not long ago at Christmas. Besides, Sam and I don’t have much to talk about. Mainly because we weren’t full siblings, and she is ten years older than me. But we never had any conflict between us. Mysteriously, she and Trisha hit off the moment they met years ago and became friends. Our breakup hasn’t affected their friendship at all because Trisha is sitting right next to Sam, and the two are laughing like sworn sisters.
“Sure,” I say and take the seat across to the table while keeping an eye on Vivian.
“So, I was just telling Trisha about what Jimmy did the other day,” Sam says. “He was playing hide-and-seek with me when I was shopping at Bloomingdale’s, messing up their clothes and tossing their shoes off the rack. I was abhorred, and I screamed at him. I was going to spank him right there in the store. Guess what? The saleswoman protected him from me and told me not to worry, saying the boy is just being a boy.”
I laugh. It isn’t the first time my sister brags about her child getting away with things. “You’re lucky to have a boy that cute.”
“I know,” Sam says. “But it makes it difficult to discipline him. Not that I’m complaining.”
“I can see your dad really dotes on them,” Trisha chimes in, nodding at my parents, who are charmed by the boy at the moment.
“He does. My dad and Karen both love them. Alex, hurry up and make your mom happy. Karen is dying for more grandchildren.”
What is it with women? Do they have nothing other than babies to talk about? Sure, I want kids, but Vivian and I aren’t real.
“Well,” I clear my throat. “There’s no hurry. Vivian is still young. Just graduated from college.”
My sister nods and turns to Trisha. “What about you, Trisha? Still against having kids?”
Trisha answers so quickly that I’m taken aback. “Not at all. I’m considering sperm donors.”
“You’re kidding!” Sam gasps, echoing my surprise. What’s gotten into her? Three years ago, she had no desire to start a family.
“I’m not,” Trisha says. “I had an egg count last month. The doctor said I had a pretty good chance to conceive.”
“Good for you!” Sam says, smiling at Trisha and then turning to me. She does say another word, though, which puzzles me.
I’m not comfortable with the direction the conversation is steering toward, so I change the topic. “How’s the ranch doing?” Sam and her husband manage the ranch.
“Couldn’t be better,” she says. “We’ve gotten some new contracts with wineries in the state, and our cottages are all booked through the end of the summer.”
“Wonderful.”
“Yep. But there are no breaks. George works every day, including weekends.”
I nod with agreement. “I know what you mean. That’s how it’s like with your own business. Remember Mom used to complain Dad never spent time with her?”
Sam laughs. “I do. And now she must be sick of him.”
We laugh about it for a moment, and Sam speaks again, “Time flies. The rascals need to go ready for bed soon. So, Trisha, you want to go to my house or stay here for the night?”
Trisha glances at me as if seeking my opinion. I look away quickly, not wanting to cause any misunderstanding.
“I’ll go to your house,” she says to Sam.
“Good,” Same says. “We’ll get going as soon as George is done talking to my dad.”
