Page 65 of Fake Dating Adrian Hunter
I swearfriendshas become his new favorite word.
“When will we see each other after the wedding?” he asks. “Don’t say in another seven years.”
“I have a business trip to London next month. My schedule is busy, but I’m sure I can make time for you.”
“Perfect. And after that?”
“It will be your turn to fly to me.” I poke him playfully in the chest. “I’m high maintenance if you can’t already tell. Let’s say, theoretically, that I do let you join my inner circle of friends. I expect you to FaceTime me at least five times a day when we’re not in the same city.AndI want hourly texts.”
He smiles. “No problem. I do have one request, though. I want to make it a rule that you come home every year for Christmas.”
My nose puckers and I lose all sense of humor. “To Sitka? Sorry, but I’m never returning there.”
“What about when our sisters have kids? Surely you’ll come home for that.”
“I’ll fly them to New York. I’ve got enough money.”
“Vee, I’m serious.” He leans in, holding my gaze. I almost think he’s about to kiss me, but there’s too much intensity in his eyes and the way he speaks those words. “Come home for Christmas.”
“Adrian…” I sigh, shifting my gaze to the pool. “I hate it there.”
He places a hand beneath my chin, drawing my face back to him. “Come home to see me. We’ll rent an Airbnb so we don’t have to live under our parents’ roofs.”
That proposition is slightly more tempting, but it’s hardly sweetening the deal when I think about all the awkward interactions I’ll have with my relatives. “What other procedures will you have in place to prevent Christmas from being painful?”
“We’ll be together the whole time, so I can save you from any embarrassing family moments.”
It’s like he’s reading my mind. If I shout loud enough in my head,Stop pretending to be in love with Isabelle, will he hear me? Why won’t Adrian admit he wants to be with me already, instead of dancing around his feelings with this Christmas talk? Seriously, what is it going to take?
“You’re overlooking one key point,” I say. “You’ll be back together with Isabelle by Christmas. I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
He shrugs. “She’ll have me to herself the entire year. I’m sure she’ll understand if you’re around for one week.”
“Oh, really? She’ll be fine with your ex-girlfriend bunking with the two of you? I find that hard to believe.”
“If she’s got an issue, I’ll fill her in on the details of our fake relationship. Verena,” he emphasizes my name, slipping his hand into mine. “I’m serious. Come on. I want you there at Christmas.”
Oxygen evades my lungs as I stare down at our hands. I could get used to this. I want him all day, every day. He notices my reaction to his touch and responds by squeezing my palm. And suddenly, I don’t know what’s more distracting—that we’re sharing this intimate moment, or that I’m considering returning home to Sitka if it means spending Christmas with Adrian.
“What do I have to do to make you say yes?” he asks.
Tell me you love me.
Tell me you never want to be with anyone else but me.
We lose the intimate moment when the daybed curtains slide open and in pops Tory’s head. Behind her, Darius, Stacy, and Nia are pulling up a group of tables and chairs, positioning them in front of the bed.
“We ordered lunch,” Tory says. “The kitchen staff are bringing our food out here so we can eat with you two by the pool. Unless you want to be alone?”
“No, you can join us.” Adrian shifts to the edge of the daybed, pulling me with him.
“Mom, Cece, do you want to sit with us too?” Tory asks them.
“Thank you, darling, but we’re about to take off,” Cece says, slipping her shoes on and collecting her belongings. Both she and mom head for the pool gate.
“Where are the menus?” I ask as the others take a seat.
“I’ve already ordered for you,” Stacy tells me. “I chose the garden salad because I know you’re trying to lose weight.”
