She was opening up to me, and I appreciated it. Couldn’t have been easy to admit something like that.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I was a prick back then, and I can’t offer any excuses other than I was a little shit who didn’t know any better.”
She turned her eyes up to me. “Thanks. This whole thing is weird, but at least it’s given me a chance to get to know you’re not the same asshole you were back then. I mean, still kind of an asshole, but a bit more mature one.”
I smiled. “Glad to surprise you with the maturing of my assholeness.” I furrowed my brow. “That sounded weird. But you know what I mean.”
“I do.” She smiled, and our eyes lingered on each other’s in a way that was…something.
“Now, let’s finish up these coffees. We’ve got a party to make.”
Chapter 27
CASSIDY
Sure, I still wasn’t crazy about the “buying me stuff” part of the plan. Nor was I sure the party was going to be anything but a big ball of stress.
But damn, I had to admit I looked good as hell in that blue dress. And the mirrors in the massive guest room I was using to get ready had the perfect lighting to make me look and feel like a movie star.
I hated that I thought it, but the lifestyle I’d been dabbling in for the last few days was kinda nice. Sure, there was the whole lying-through-my-teeth thing, but the perks almost made it worth it.
I needed to get my head in the game, though. As much as I wanted to hide out in the house and let the day pass—safest way to not get caught in a lie—I knew it was impossible. I’d be spending that evening rubbing elbows with some of New York State’s elite. And there was no doubt in my mind that my and Josh’s upcoming marriage was going to be on everyone’s lips.
Hell, it probably already was. We had made the proposal public. But I’d been checking the usual gossip blogs, trying to see anything that might’ve hinted that the marriage was public knowledge. So far, nothing. Typing “Cassidy Marten Josh Taylor” into Google yielded nothing but stuff from high school.
Well, aside from a few articles from about five years ago, when he was dating some model with the same first name. And the worst part? They made me a touch jealous.
I’d finished putting the last touches on my makeup when my phone buzzed on the nightstand—a text from Mom.
“Are you still going out tonight? The rest of us were going to stay in and watch some Christmas movies if you and Josh want to come by.”
Reading the words killed me. Not being able to spend time with my family at the holidays made me feel like a total jerk. And it’s not like it was because I was actually getting married and needed to make some social appearances. Nope—leaving the family one short because of a total sham.
I knew I had to get with the program. I’d chosen to do what I was doing, and as tempting as it was to spend the duration beating myself up over it, that wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good. Really, the best thing to do would be to believe the lie, to somehow convince myself it was actually happening. Talk about method acting.
I fired back a text to Mom letting her know that as much as I wanted to be there, I wasn’t going to be able to get out of these plans. The resigned “OK :(” she sent in response broke my heart all over again. It was all extra bad on account of how the rest of the family would be coming to social events they felt totally out of place in. If Dad had been uncomfortable at the country club, I could only imagine how bad it would be when he was at the Taylors’ Christmas party here at Chateau Josh.
A knock sounded at the door. “You decent?”
“Yeah. Come on in.”
The door opened. I glanced over to see Josh. And holy crap did the man look good. He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, his black loafers polished to a mirror shine. His hair was slicked back behind his ears, and he’d even shaved off the sexy little dusting of stubble he’d worn since he’d come back into my life. The man was flawless—looked like a damn Tom Ford model.
And judging by the look on his face, I was having a similar effect on him. His dark eyes widened, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“Ho-ly shit.”
I blushed. Couldn’t help it. “Come on—you’ve already seen me in this thing. Wasn’t even a couple of hours ago.”
“I know, I know. But there’s something different about you now. Maybe the hair and makeup. Maybe it’s knowing you’re going to be on my arm tonight.”