Page 25 of Faking the Pass

Exactly Where You Belong

R osie

This had been a terrible idea.

I felt stricken as I stumbled along beside Presley, walking back down the aisle toward the open doorway of the chapel.

The camera crew, which had done a great job staying out of the way during the ceremony, was now annoyingly close, all up in our faces as we emerged from the quiet little sanctuary into the disconcerting brightness of the day.

It was all I could do not to throw my hands up at the lenses and turn away… but that wouldn’t be a good look for a “happy newlywed,” would it?

The videographer and photographer and audio crew were a stark reminder of what we were doing here—putting on a show.

Which made me an imbecile.

I’d cried real tears in there, felt real feelings during our kiss.

Way too many of them—and in places that were better discussed on a wedding night than at the reception.

And it had all been captured on film, evidence of our wonderful true love story. The thought of it made me feel claustrophobic—and exposed.

In spite of what his dad had said, I was not Presley’s.

And he was not mine.

I reminded myself of that as we walked together through the magical little garden toward the inn’s expansive lawn.

When Presley reached for my hand, I subtly pulled it away, fussing with the blooms in my bouquet—as if anyone would care that a petal or two was beginning to wilt.

I related to those shriveled petals.

Now that the deed was done, I was drained of energy. I just wanted to go home and crawl into bed and pretend I wasn’t living a lie.

This was much harder than I’d expected.

Presley dipped his head and turned it to the side, craning for a look at my downturned face.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Perfect. I’m great.” I lifted my head and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “The ceremony was very… nice.”

He smiled back, and it almost looked like his was real because it was more dazzling than the sun.

“Glad you liked it. It is your wedding day after all. How many of those do you get?”

“Haha.” I gave him a humorless laugh. “Now what? We go back to your place? Or do we need to get more film first?”

I was assuming an editor would cut out any non-romantic conversation the mics might happen to capture.

Presley gave me a quizzical glance. “What we need is some food and some fun. We’re going to our reception.”

He gestured toward a vine-covered pergola across the lawn near the water. Long streamers of gauzy white material had been woven through the grapevines and blew in the breeze, dancing above and around the elegant white structure like festive flags.

Beneath it was a long table set for fine dining, and two black-clad waiters stood to one side of it, waiting for our party’s arrival.

Ahead of us, the string quartet was hustling in that direction, presumably so they could get in place to serenade us during the elegant al fresco post-wedding meal.

“If you’re worried about feeling awkward around my family, don’t be,” Presley said. “You already know Jess. The rest of them are easy to get along with, too. And if you couldn’t tell already, they’re more than ready to love and accept you.”

“ That’s what worries me,” I muttered under my breath.

“You don’t want them to accept you?”

“Of course I do,” I said. “I just… it feels like I’m lying to them. I feel guilty.”

And the thought of belonging to a family like this one filled me with a yearning so powerful I felt it at a cellular level.

There had only ever been my mom and me. My dad had never been in the picture. She’d said he wasn’t interested in fatherhood and that we were better off without him, just the two of us.

In spite of that, I’d fantasized throughout my childhood about big family gatherings dripping with cousins to play with and aunts and uncles and grandparents to dote on me.

I’d had a lot of time to think about it, and I’d concluded that one of the reasons I’d fallen so easily for Randy’s deception was probably that he’d claimed to want a big family, tapping into that secret longing I’d harbored all my life.

I suspected most people with brothers and sisters had no idea how lucky they were. I’d never wished for siblings more than I had during the past few months, since my mom had been gone.

Presley’s hand came up to my bare shoulder, rubbing the tension at the juncture of my neck.

“Don’t feel guilty. Just think of it as a party,” he said. “My family’s having a great time. You should, too.”

I tried to follow his lead and relax. The copious wine poured by the attentive waiters helped. So did the incredible sea breeze and the endless views of blue skies and deeper blue water visible from our table.

Seagulls soared on the breeze overhead. White sails dotted the water between the shoreline and the Eastport Bay Bridge in the distance.

As the sun began to set, the suspension bridge’s lights blinked on and reflected in the water below.

There were lights strung throughout the vines atop the pergola as well, and when they came on, the setting took on the ambience of an enchanted feast in a magical Fae realm.

Though I was determined to maintain some safe emotional distance, I was having a good time.

It was impossible to be depressed in the company of the Lowe clan.

Mr. Lowe’s dad jokes were actually funny, and his mom reminded me of my own—warm and caring and fiercely on the side of the people she considered to be “hers.”

Apparently that included me now.

“I never liked Randy Ryland all that much,” she said, wrinkling her nose and leaning close as if sharing a secret in confidence.

“When I think of you paired with that vain little peacock…” She shook her head and pulled a comical expression.

The motion jiggled her wine glass, and a little sloshed out onto the white tablecloth. A server rushed forward to dab the spot with a cloth napkin then topped off her glass.

“Thank you,” she said to him then turned back to me. “As I was saying, there was no way you were going to be happy with a man like that. You dodged a bullet, sweetheart. And now…”

Smiling, she lifted both hands and twisted, making a gesture that encompassed the whole of this idyllic family event.

“Now you’re exactly where you belong. It’s funny how life has a way of working itself out, isn’t it?”

She was so happy, I didn’t have the heart to disagree.

“It is.”

Presley had her black hair and infectious smile, though his gorgeous light hazel eyes had clearly come directly from his dad. His brothers all had the same magical eye color as well as their dad’s blond hair.

Mrs. Lowe’s eyes were a light blue, and they were sparkling with emotion.

“I worried Presley would never let himself slow down enough for love to catch up to him,” she confided. “He’s always been so driven, even as a little boy. Even after all he’s achieved, he still has a hard time relaxing or even allowing himself to do anything just for fun.”

She lifted the napkin from her lap and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s wonderful to see him like this. I’m so happy Presley’s found a woman worthy of him.”

A sharp pang of guilt smacked me in the ribs. I had no idea what to say, so I just squeezed Mrs. Lowe’s hand and blinked back the tears that were desperately trying to flow from my own eyes.

“My mother would have really loved this day. You remind me so much of her,” I said, surprising myself.

Her expression melted and she wrapped her arms around me. “She is here with us today, sweetheart. Don’t you doubt it. I know she’s proud of you.”

When she pulled back, Debbie patted my hand. “And from this day forward, I am your mom.”

My heart squeezed so tightly I thought I might pass out.

It was so wonderful—and so terrible—to hear something like that, to be so thoroughly embraced by the kind of family I’d always dreamed of having… and to know it was all a lie.

“Thank you for everything you did to make today special,” I said to change the subject. “You and Jessica must have knocked yourselves out to pull all this together in just a few days.”

“Oh I would have loved to help, believe me,” Mrs. Lowe said.

She shot a mock threatening glare toward Presley, who’d moved to the end of the table where he was talking animatedly with his brothers.

“But my son insisted on handling it all himself . Which is how we knew you were the one—in spite of the rather short engagement.”

This was so bad.

It was going to break her heart when Presley and I announced our separation a few months from now.

“I think maybe he just likes things the way he likes them,” I suggested. I’d seen it enough with this strict diet and fitness regimen.

“Oh no. He wanted to make sure everything was the way you’d like it,” Debbie said. “He spent a lot of time on the phone with your friend Danielle, trying to get everything just right.”

He had? My head whipped around to locate my bestie.

She was deep in conversation with Jessica at the moment, but she and I would be having a conversation later.

Why had she not told me this herself?

And why was my belly flipping over and over again, like Simone Biles on the Olympic floor mat?

I didn’t understand why a man who was so concerned with staying on the perfect training and recovery schedule that he didn’t want the “distraction” of a real girlfriend would have gone to so much trouble to plan this day.

He must really have wanted it to look convincing to all those groupies he was trying to repel.

I would have to keep reminding myself—as many times as necessary—not to let myself become convinced as well.