Page 23 of Faking the Pass

You’re Different

R osie

A few days later, I sat with Jessica Lowe on a velvet settee in the second story loft of Saltwater Style, an exclusive store in Eastport Bay’s historic harbor area.

When I’d lived in town as a teenager, I’d never even dreamed of shopping here or in any of the other posh boutiques lining Main Street.

My mom had been a single mother, and while we’d had enough to eat and a roof over our heads, there was not money for much else. The clothes I’d worn back then had been purchased either at Savers or from a big box discount store with the money I’d earned from my after school and weekend jobs.

And now here I was, sipping champagne with one of the world’s most famous singer-songwriters as a team of store employees brought out one gorgeous dress after another for me to inspect.

“I love that one,” Jessica said. “I think that neckline would look amazing on you.”

“It’s beautiful,” I agreed. “How much is that one?”

“Don’t tell her,” Jessica ordered then giggled before taking a sip from her own glass, which was filled with non-alcoholic sparkling cider.

“Sorry, Just doing my job,” she said. “Presley told me to make sure you didn’t just pick out the least expensive one.”

She put on an imitation of a deep male voice. “ My wife isn’t going to wear anything less than the best.”

I shook my head in bewilderment.

Presley had also apparently arranged to have the store shut down for our appointment so Jessica and I could shop in peace.

In addition to the champagne, there was a selection of finger foods including a gorgeous charcuterie board, fresh fruit, nuts, and some tiny gourmet cupcakes—chocolate ones.

It all felt unreal. And I didn’t understand a bit of it.

Even Randy, with all his focus on showing off, hadn’t gone to these lengths. I’d been told what time to show up and be fitted for the dress he’d selected.

And told what size to be so I’d fit into it.

There certainly hadn’t been a lavish spread of tasty food.

That experience had made me feel like a generic dress-up doll. This one made me feel… special.

“I wouldn’t have thought Presley would be so concerned with appearances,” I said to Jessica.

“Oh he’s not. That’s the weird thing about all this. The whole family’s talking about it.”

She looked me over, as if I was some exotic new animal species she’d never seen before.

“Wilder says you and Pres dated in high school. Was it serious?”

“Oh no. We only went out for a few weeks.”

Browsing the food tray, I picked out a ripe strawberry. “Then he dumped me and moved on to someone else.”

Forcing a laugh, I took a bite, chewing and swallowing.

“I’m surprised Wilder or anyone else in the Lowe family even remembered me. He was so nice to me, by the way, when that wedding was going all sideways. Please tell him again how grateful I was.”

“He was happy to help,” Jessica said. “And he was glad you decided to get out of there—he really hated how Randy was talking to you. I’d say it’s just his nature since he became a bodyguard and started a security company, but honestly, all the Lowe brothers are so protective.”

I got an involuntary flashback of watching Presley step in front of the cameras and trash-talk Randy at the press conference—then the feel of his hand slipping around mine as he’d warned my ex-fiancé away, “claiming” me for himself.

Doing a little involuntary shimmy, I pressed my hand against my abdomen to quell the flurry of sensation that memory produced in me.

“I can see that.”

“And they definitely remember you,” Jessica said. “I guess his family’s been under the impression you were different from the other girls he dated back then.”

I shook my head emphatically. “No. I meant nothing to him. We literally never even spoke again after he told me he wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore.”

And after I’d overheard him telling his friends I was too flaky and freakish for them to consider dating, I didn’t want to speak to him again. Ever.

“Well you’re certainly different from the WAG-wannabees he’s dated the past few years since Wilder and I have been together,” Jess said.

That piqued my interest. “Different how?”

“Well, I don’t want to be insulting to other women because I think people should live their lives however they want to, but the women I’ve seen Presley with aren’t as… real as you are.”

“You mean plastic surgery?”

“In some cases, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” she said.

Jessica browsed the charcuterie board, selecting a small square of cheese and wrapping it in the thinnest slice of beef carpaccio I’d ever seen.

“I get the sense that you’re the same person, no matter who you’re talking to,” she said.

“You talk to me the same way you speak to the women who work here in the shop. And you’re exactly like you were in the TV interviews I saw you in.

I’m sure that really appeals to Presley because he’s the same way. ”

Appeals to him? My future fake sister-in-law was apparently harboring some false ideas about what was going on here.

I leaned in close and spoke softly so the women in the next room didn’t overhear. “You know this is all fake, right? At least I assumed Presley had told you when he arranged for today.”

Jessica swatted at the air in front of her as if trying to chase off a gnat.

“Yes, I know what he said . But we’ve all talked about it, and everyone agrees. He’s not acting like himself.”

“He’s probably annoyed he’s having to deal with planning a wedding ceremony—and paying for it,” I said.

I looked around at the posh surroundings and even more glamorous dresses, sighing miserably.

“I really wish you hadn’t asked them to take the price tags off the dresses.”

“I’ve known the Lowe family since I was a little girl,” Jessica said. “My brother is Wilder’s best friend. And I’ve gotten to know Presley much better since I married his brother. One thing I can tell you he’s not —is annoyed.”

“Well once this whole court hearing is over with, I’ll get out of his hair and he can go back to being himself again. I promise.”

“I didn’t say any of us were complaining about the change,” she said.

“It’s actually been a lot of fun. There’s a pool going on among his brothers about how long it’ll take Pres to admit he’s in love with you.

Wait till you see Dylan and Merc at the wedding.

You’re going to love them. The whole family is great. And I know they’re going to love you.”

“Jessica…”

I had to take a few breaths before going on because her words had knocked the wind out of me.

“Presley is not in love with me,” I told her, though it should have been unnecessary.

“He’s only marrying me so neither of us has to testify against the other,” I said.

“And I think it’s working already because Randy’s lawyers asked for a delay of the court date when they learned we were getting married this week.

I guess they needed time to regroup. Maybe they’ll even advise him to drop the whole thing. ”

“Well I hope they do because I don’t want to see you go through that,” Jess said. “But that’s a question for another day.”

Clinking her glass against mine, she said, “The question today is… which of these pretty dresses are you going to choose?”

A couple hours later, I’d made my choice, and the shop’s in-house seamstress was already at work altering it to fit me perfectly.

“I can’t believe how late it is,” I said to Jessica. “I’m sorry I monopolized your entire day.”

It had been wonderful getting to know her. I’d liked her immediately, but after talking with her all day, she felt like a real friend.

“Nonsense. This has been so much fun. I’m thrilled to be getting a sister in law—for however long I get to keep her.”

She gave me a hug just as my stomach let out a loud growl. Pulling back, she laughed.

“Was that me or you?”

“It was me,” I said, shamefaced. “I’m not sure why. I’ve eaten more today than I have in months.”

“Well I’m eating pretty much every hour on the hour these days.”

Jessica looked down at her small bump and rubbed it. “I think it’s going to be another boy. I was starving all the time when I was pregnant with Theo. You’ll find out what it’s like one of these days.”

She wiggled her eyebrows in a suggestive way. “Maybe soon.”

I just wagged my head at her. “We won’t be taking our ‘marriage’ that far. I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

“For now ,” she said. “Hey, I’m headed over to Mr. and Mrs. Lowe’s house. You should come with me. She’s making lasagne tonight, and Dylan will be there with his daughter Lily. Merc is flying in tonight, too. He should be there for dinner unless there are flight delays.”

There was a lurch in my stomach like the one you feel when you descend a large number of floors in a fast elevator.

“I couldn’t. I don’t want to intrude on a family dinner.”

“You’re about to be family, Rosie.” She rolled her eyes and used a duh tone. “Don’t you want to get to know them a little before the wedding?”

“No. I don’t.”

My chin pivoted in adamant denial. “I’d feel too weird. The guys all know it’s fake, and Presley’s parents don’t. I don’t want to lie to them.”

From what I remembered, they were really nice people. I felt bad enough costing their son all this time and money. I didn’t want to have to trick them into believing that he and I were in love.

I wasn’t sure why Presley was even including his family in our pretend wedding.

“I mean, I guess when you get right down to it, the wedding itself is a lie,” I said, “but I just can’t face them. Not yet. I’ll have to see them at the ceremony on Friday, but I need a few more days to prepare myself. You sure you can’t give me even a hint about where it’s going to be?”

Jessica pulled her fingers across her lips in a zipping motion. “Presley made me promise not to tell. You’re going to like it, though.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like it. I was prepared to marry him in a sundress and flipflops in front of a judge. Probably the same one who’ll be dissolving our ‘marriage’ a few months from now.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said. “I know you don’t know Presley very well yet, but once you get to know him better, you’ll see he’s a great guy.

He’s one of the most loyal people I’ve ever known, and he’s so sweet with Theo and Lily.

He’s hilarious and so generous. A few weeks of living with him, and you’re never going to want to let him go. ”

That was what worried me.

Presley had done so much for me already, and the more time I spent around him, the more I liked him.

The issue wasn’t whether I’d want him .

The problem was that he’d never wanted me in the first place.