Page 73 of The Fiancée Farce
“Fine.” She sighed. “Love you, too. Talk soon.”
Brooks sipped his orange juice through his straw, watching her intently. “That went well.”
Gemma sighed and set her phone down on the coffee table. “All things considered.”
“Pray tell, how is Lena doing?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Fine.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m happy to hear that.” He cleared his throat. “That Lena’s good.”
She frowned, studying him closely. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m perfect.” He smiled and flicked the straw inside his glass. “Speaking offeelings, how is Tansy?”
She frowned at his odd emphasis. “She’s fine. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” He shrugged. “I just can’t imagine hearing your friend Lucy profess her love to you the other evening was fun for her.” His brows rose. “Youareaware she overheard you, right? That it wasn’t just me. You’re lucky I was there to intercept Tucker.” He tutted. “That was awfully sloppy of you, niece.”
“My humblest thanks.” She rolled her eyes. “And yes, I’m aware. Tansy and I already discussed it.”
At length.
“And?”
“Andwhat?”
“You’re not normally this dense, Gemma.” He huffed. “How did it go?”
She laughed. “What do you care?”
His lower lip jutted out. “First of all, I’m hurt you think I don’t care about you and your relationships.” He lifted a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
She stifled a smile. Dramatic bastard.
“Second, seeing as I’m keeping your secret safe, I feel...hmm, invested.”
“Invested?”
“Yes. Invested in the success of this union. So, tell me—how did Tansy take it? Did you have to grovel? I bet you did. Though Tansy doesn’t strike me as the sort to hold a grudge.” He frowned. “Then again, looks can be deceiving. It’s usually the quiet ones with the fiercest tempers.”
“No, I didn’t have to grovel. We talked. Communicated. Like adults. I cleared the air. Let her know that Lucy and I aren’t an item. We’re fine. Besides, Tansy knows what this is.”
Brooks cocked his head. “Out of curiosity, what, pray tell, is it?”
“It’s a—”
Mutually beneficial—arrangementsounded awfully clinical and cold, considering the way Tansy made her burn. The way her rejection—because wasn’t that what it was?—made Gemma feel like, well,shit. Like she’d lost something she hadn’t even known she’d wanted and now that she knew, she felt horribly bereft.
Not that she didn’t understand it on a logical level, but feelings weren’t logical. They were feelings. They were—
Feelings.
Big, earnest ones that made her chest ache and her hands shake.
She had them in spades.
For Tansy.
