Page 1 of Fake Dating Adrian Hunter
ChapterOne
There were three reasons why graduating high school was the best day of my childhood. One: escaping my small life in Alaska where people only knew me as “Tory’s sister” or “the fat girl with pink hair.” Two: I was about to embark on a once in a lifetime opportunity of studying fashion in Milan. And three—the biggest reason of all: I would never see Adrian Hunter again.
Seven years later, I’m freaking out because there’s no hiding from Adrian at Tory’s wedding.
Why does his sister have to marry mine? And why can’t they get married on one night, like every other couple does, instead of dragging the celebrations out for an entire week? As of today, I’m living in a nightmare, trapped with Adrian for the next seven days. Shoot me now, please. I would like that very much.
“You’re quiet, Verena. You don’t like the resort?” Tory’s hands fidget behind her back as she watches me explore each room of my bungalow.
“Are you kidding? This resort is a palace. You’re mistaking my Adrian nerves for dislike.” I join my sister in the living room. “I see you’ve put my money to good use.”
Dad’s heart surgeon salary too. I’m not the only one paying for this behemoth joining of families. If you look up “extravagant wedding” in the dictionary, you’ll find reference to this week. It will read:a secret destination wedding at the tropical Whitsunday Islands, Australia, to prevent paparazzi and rabid fans of Tory’s sister from gate-crashing. All guests’ flights and accommodation paid for by the Valentine fortune. Oh, and if you’re planning on vacationing that week at the Hayman Island Resort, don’t bother, because the Valentines have reserved the entire island.
I am one hundred percent to blame for the extremities needed for this week.
“I still can’t believe you gave me that money,” Tory says.
I shrug. “I’ll sell one of my designs and break even.” Plus, I’m hoping my financial contribution makes up for all the pre-wedding events I’ve skipped out on, and all the other life milestones I’ve been absent for over the past seven years.
Tory, I’m the worst big sister, I know, but I can’t attend your engagement party. My designs are in New York Fashion Week.
Tory, there’s no way I can fly back to Sitka for your bridal shower. I’m so sorry, my reality show is filming during that entire month.
In truth, I am the worst big sister, and maid of honor. I could have easily rearranged my schedule. But… ugh… Adrian! Coming face to face with him before necessary was not an option. Even without the hindrance of Adrian, returning to Sitka is the equivalent of reliving the most embarrassing moments of my life all at once. If I went back to the place I grew up, I would be the awkward girl everyone remembers. The nobody. The black sheep of the family.
Correction: I’d be the black sheep of Sitka.
The life I’ve worked so hard for in New York, my fashion label, my reality show—none of it will erase their view of me. In their eyes, I’ll always be an outcast. I can’t say seeing them here in Australia will be much different, but at least this isn’t anyone’s home turf.
“Hey, do you know where the concierge left my luggage?” I open the double doors to my bedroom. It’s all deep tones of wood in here, matched with the most beautiful hibiscus aroma. Afternoon sunlight streams through the glass walls, shining onto a canopy bed. But none of my belongings lie waiting.
“I’m sure your luggage will be delivered soon. I’ll call the lobby,” Tory says.
I step out into the back garden as Tory makes the call. And here I was, innocent little Verena Valentine, thinking I knew what luxury meant. Owning a penthouse in Manhattan with front row views of Central Park has nothing on this resort. This bungalow has its own infinity pool that overlooks the crystal waters surrounding Hayman Island. I can walk out onto my own private section of the beach. Sunsets will be amazing here, sipping a cocktail as I lounge on a pool float. If there’s one positive thing about this week, it’s that at least I’ll be suffering in style.
I take a breath, filling my lungs with the salty sea breeze, and tilt my head up to the sky. The sun’s warmth feels beautiful against my skin. Summer in January. I want to kidnap these deadly UV rays and bring them home to obliterate the snow.
My eyelids slide shut, stealing every sweet moment of bliss I can find before the inevitable of facing Adrian. It’s a shame that this trip—intended to be a fun getaway for my sister’s wedding—will be no vacation at all.
I can do this. I can face my family and all the people from my past. I’m not the girl they remember. I can be civil to Adrian.
I want to support Tory.
I want to support Tory.
“Your luggage is on its way now. You have seven suitcases?” Tory laughs as she joins me outside.
I open one eye to meet her. “You do know who you’re talking to, right? Technically I only have six for my belongings. The wedding dresses are in the seventh.”
Her face lights up. “Phoebe and I can’t wait to see what you’ve designed for us.”
“You’ll love them. I promise.”
“And your maid of honor dress?”
“Ugly. Absolutely disgusting. No one will be able to look at me.”
She swats my arm. “Everyone will be in awe of you. It’s been, what, seven years since you were home?”
