Page 111 of The Fiancé Hoax

I downed the amber liquid in the glass and picked up my phone. At least there would be one person happy with the way things had turned out.

When the call connected, Marsh's voice came in, gruff and blustering.

“Cooper, I don't have time to listen to your bullshit excuses,” he started.

“It's over,” I said flatly.

He paused. “What's over?”

“Felicity and I. I told her we couldn't see each other anymore after the trial. We agreed to keep things professional and stick to our original agreement.”

For once, Marsh was speechless. He didn't say anything for so long I wondered if he had hung up.

“Are you still there?” I asked.

“I'm here,” he answered. “So you're still going through with this pretend engagement?”

“Yeah. I don't have much of a choice at this point. My attorney's already submitted my background information to Judge Graves, along with Felicity's name as my fiancée. I would lose the case for sure if it fell through now.”

“And she's still going through with it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, she says she'll show up at court.” I left it at that. I didn't need to tell Marsh everything that had gone down between us.

Another long pause. “Did she say anything else?”

“No.” A bitter chuckle escaped my mouth. “Just that she's pissed at me. And I don't blame her.”

Marsh cleared his throat. “I never thought you would call it off just to please me.”

I laughed again. “I didn't do it to please you. Believe it or not, people can make their own life decisions regardless of whether or not Marsh Hayes approves.”

He grunted. “So why'd you do it?”

“Because of something you said in my office. Not the part about me not loving her. You were wrong about that. I do love her.”

Marsh scoffed. I ignored it and continued.

“It's because you were right about one thing. I shouldn't tie her down. She has her whole life ahead of her. She doesn't need to be roped down by a guy who's screwed up his life already.”

Maybe it was the whiskey making me spill my guts, but we were in relatively unfamiliar territory. Marsh and I hadn't had a conversation like this in years. Not since my divorce with Gen. Back then, he'd opened up to me about his grief after losing his wife. But since those days, we’d kept our conversations a lot more surface level.

After a long moment of silence, Marsh spoke slowly. “Well, maybe it's for the best.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I wanted you to know since you were so upset about it. Keep that blood pressure down and all.”

“Right. I'll see you on Monday at the trial.”

“You’re going?”

“Yes. You could use the moral support. And you don't need to worry about me talking to Judge Graves.”

“I don't?”

“No. I'll keep my mouth shut. And, Cooper… good luck.”

“Thanks.”

We ended the call, and I tossed my phone on the bed.

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