Page 17

CHAPTER 17

I'M YOUR FAKE FIANCé WHO YOU HATE. WHO BETTER TO TALK TO?

KAYDEN

Me:

Will you call me back, please?

My Numinous Beloved:

I have this thing called work, and these other things called patients. Something you obviously don't know anything about.

Me:

Then call me as soon as you get a chance. It's important.

My Numinous Beloved:

Thanks for spelling it out for me. The five calls I missed from you weren't enough of a clue.

I keep the phone clutched in my hand because I assume she'll call me any second. She has enough free time to message, so that means she can call. When she doesn't, I start pacing around my living room. After fifteen minutes, I've expanded my pacing, and I'm walking a loop around the entire penthouse. It's been two weeks with barely any communication between us, but it feels like months .

Just as I turn into the second guest bedroom for probably the twentieth time, my phone rings. "Finally. I need to ask you?—"

"Oh, you're welcome. You don't have to keep thanking me for taking time out of my busy day to call you. Say no more about it. Now what's so important? There's a mold outbreak in your building, and you have no place to go? I'm sure Brant and Lily would love to take you in." There's something different about her voice, but I don't know what it is.

"Emory, I'm being serious."

"So am I. I don't care if giant land snails are currently eating everything in your house. You're not staying with me."

I flop onto the bed. "Those only live in Africa," I point out. "And I never said anything about us staying together, but you seem to be obsessed with it. Should I read something into that? Maybe you're starting to take this fake engagement a little more seriously?"

She blows out a quick breath on the other end of the line. "Do you just sit around memorizing useless facts? You should read nothing into this other than what I'm saying. I'm treating this fake engagement with exactly the amount of seriousness it deserves, and that means neither of us will be living with the other. Ever."

"I bet you're looking at the ring right now, aren't you?" I imagine her sitting in her office, holding her hand out in front of her every few minutes.

There's a pause. "No. Maybe. But just because it accidentally caught my eye. It's not like I spend all day staring at it. Look, I really am busy, Kayden, so if you're just calling to enjoy my famously witty banter, can we do it another time, please?"

I sit up, and the smile drops from my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Something is. You sound different."

"I do not. And there's nothing wrong. Nothing I can't handle."

I finally realize what it is about her voice. It sounds worn. I should have noticed it before now. If I had, I would have never joked with her. "Emory, talk to me. "

"Kayden…" She sounds like she wants to tell me more, but she stops herself.

"I'm your fake fiancé who you hate. Who better to talk to?"

I'm pretty sure I hear the beginnings of a chuckle from her before she shuts it down. "I don't hate you. You know better than that."

"Fair. You simply dislike me with great exuberance. You can still dislike me while you're telling me why your day is so awful. In fact, telling me might make it even easier to despise me. I promise to give all the wrong reactions so you can justify your dislike of me. You get it off your chest and you get to dislike me even more than you already do."

She goes silent for so long I would think she hung up on me if I didn't hear her tapping her nails. "I don't dislike you either."

I drag my phone across the blanket and knock it against the wall a couple of times. "Sorry. That was me falling off my chair. Wow, Emory. I feel like we're having a true emotional breakthrough here."

"Did you seriously just imitate falling off a chair?" A bit of her usual brightness is peeking through in her tone, and it makes me smile. "And not very well, I might add."

"Like you could have done better," I say. "And while we're both getting overly sentimental, I guess I can tell you that I don't dislike you either."

"Obviously." I can hear the eye roll in her words. "How could a person dislike me?"

"Seriously? I go to the trouble of acting like I fell off my chair, but you just react like it's a given when I say it?"

"Yeah? It's clear you're totally boy-obsessed with me. I don't blame you. And I really think you're giving yourself too much credit for the whole falling off a chair thing. It should sound more like a solid thump and less like a tap. It's best if you can make a scraping noise too."

"I have no idea what 'boy-obsessed' means, and I'll remember about the sound effects for next time. I didn't realize I was fake engaged to a Foley artist. Now, please tell me what's wrong. "

She hesitates, and when she does finally say something, her voice is flat again. "Why do you care?"

It's my turn to sit in silence. I'd care about anyone, wouldn't I? If any other woman I was dating sounded off, I would ask about it. I'd want to help if I could.

But my heart's never picked up like this from talking to any other woman. I've never felt this absolute pressing need to make any other woman feel better. I wouldn't throw myself into a volcano for any other woman if it meant she'd never hurt.

But I would for Emory.

Why? What makes her different? Is it because she's Lily's friend? Because she's new to town? Maybe she's just the chick I'm taking under my wing until she's able to fly on her own. Do birds dread the day when those chicks can fly without them?

"I just do," I answer. "So you can either tell me now over the phone, or I'll come to the clinic and see you."

"Oh sorry, I only deal with small animals. Guess you're out of luck."

"Then I'll borrow Silver from Chloe and make an appointment. You need to learn something about me, Emory. I've never given up on anything in my life, so don't ever expect that from me. Now, tell me before I show up down there and make a scene."

"What if I want you to make a scene?"

I walk to the living room, stopping to slip on my shoes by the door. "Then you're about to get your wish. I'm ten minutes away, so be ready."

"You just happen to know how far away my work is from your apartment? You're so very boy-obsessed. And did I just hear keys?"

I jingle the car keys again to let her know I'm serious.

"Kayden, stop. I was kidding. I do not want you to make a scene. Please."

"Then you're going to talk to me, Ginger. Tell your favorite fiancé what's wrong. "

She sighs. "It doesn't work like that. A person doesn't have favorite fiancés. The fact that they are a fiancé implies that?—"

"Emory, quit deflecting."

I can hear her pull in a breath and hold it for a beat. "It's just annoying. This guy at work—the other veterinarian here. He reminds me of my dad in so many ways."

I stiffen. "What can I do?"

"Obviously nothing."

"I not kidding, Emory. If you want to vent, I'm here. If you want help to soap the windows of his car and then poke holes in his garden hose so he gets soaked when he tries to wash it off, I'm right there at your side."

She's silent for the length of a breath. "Thank you," she's whispers the words.

My chest tightens when I hear them. She shouldn't have to thank me for that. I want her to expect it from me. I want her to know I'll always be here, even after Brant and Lily's wedding when this fake engagement ends.

"I happen to have some iocaine powder. I could challenge him to a battle of wits."

"Kayden—"

"Or a sword fight. Hello. My name is Kayden Bouchard. You annoyed my fiancée. Prepare to die."

"If you call me Buttercup, I swear to god you'll wish you were in the Pit of Despair." She finally laughs, and it sounds like I'm listening to a favorite song.

I grin. "You know what I'm going to do now."

"Don't. You. Dare."

"Sorry, I have to… Buttercup."

Her growl is the most adorable thing I've heard in a long time, and I can't help laughing. "I am going to make you pay for this."

"I have a different idea. What if I had a way to make you feel better?"

"Mr. Bouchard, you're trying to seduce me."

"Would you like me to seduce you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

She growls again, and I wonder if maybe seducing her wouldn't be so bad after all. The one time with her was incredible. One more time wouldn't cause any emotions to grow between us.

"I need a favor. That's why I needed to talk to you."

"First, tell me how you know these movie lines," she snaps at me.

"You're angry because I know the same movie lines that you do?"

"Yes!"

"I don't know. I watched a lot of movies on TV when I was growing up. But I'm serious about the favor, Emory. There's a team dinner tonight."

"Okay? And you need my help picking out an outfit for you to wear?"

"I need you to go with me."

I swear I can almost hear her shaking her head. "This is supposed to make me feel better? You said it's a team dinner. They won't even notice if I'm not there."

"That's the thing. They'll notice. The dinner is for us. To celebrate our engagement. It's only for a couple of hours, and I promise we'll make it fun."

"Fun? Hanging out with a group of egotistical athletes is supposed to be fun? That would be like spending the night with a group of your clones. No thank you."

"First things first, there's only one of me, Buttercup, and you clearly don't know enough about me if you think otherwise. And I'm not any happier than you are about this dinner. Do you think I want to be forced into spending the night with you? Ick, the worst." I make all the sick noises I can without actually making myself sick. "That's why we need to make this fun. Are you good at pulling off pranks?"

"What? Like it's hard?"

I kick off my shoes and lean back on the couch. "This dinner is gonna be just like senior year except for funner." I carry on the quote just to irritate her. I imagine her face turning red, her fingers going white as she tries to crush the pen she's holding.

"God, I can't stand you. What time should I be there?"