Page 13

Evie

Let the record show I've not agreed to be fake engaged to Wild, and I still think it's all ridiculous.

I haven't heard from Wild since yesterday. Exactly twenty hours and some minutes ago. I know he's trying to give me the space I need. A cautious person who has been burned one too many times will avoid the fire.

Twenty hours to pray that the hate dies down. Twenty hours to hope Mrs. Langford's ire would have cooled. Twenty hours to pray the trolls go into hiding forever.

Twenty hours to pray Wild will come to his senses and withdraw his ridiculous proposal. And if he doesn't, I will be sensible enough to reject it. Not even the fake dinosaur games we played with the kids at the preschool could compare to faking an engagement with Wild. The same Wild I used to have a crush on. I've since gathered the crush like the weeds from my garden and burned them, then buried the ashes.

There's absolutely nothing to worry about on that front. I swear on all that is Wild and Evie-related.

But when I don't hear from Wild for one week, I panic. Check your phone every second kind of panic. I worry he has already forsaken his championship dreams and signed for another team a country away from me.

I should swallow my pride and meet with Mrs. Langford, tender a formal apology, and suffer through whatever appearances I must make to set things right. The internet trolls aren't even a problem. I trust the director of my preschool to have my back. I've known her since I started volunteering there as a teen, and she made the job official when I got the necessary qualifications.

Fake engagement to the man I loved as an eight-year-old and continued loving in my teens can't be wise.

This afternoon, I discovered Wild isn't halfway across the Atlantic. I'm not relieved. I'm really not.

He's here in my backyard. In sweatpants, that scream 'just got out of training,' he's handling my flowers and aloe with more than the reverence they deserve. An odd sensation swamps my heart.

I botched the first planting, and this is my second try. It's more than likely I will fail again.

But Wild's face is creased in concentration as he pats the soil around the aloe vera. Feeling lightheaded, I tip my head back as his face zooms front and center. I concentrate on the next breath and the one after it until my heart and head click into regular operation.

Yeah, I'm going to reject his offer. But how do I meet Wild face to face and tell him no?

I try a little practice.

Are we still doing the fake engagement?

Hmmm, I don't know if it's a good idea.

So, you're not going to help me out with the contract thing?

No.

Not even for a week? Just for me to sign it?

Kristyn arrives with her grumpy husband, and I'm instantly defensive. That's what happens when your best friend can't be trusted. Charlie gives me an ‘ unlike Charlie ’ hug and goes seeking out his best friend. I heard my brother put our father, Parker, and Sarah through hell, and he's still wearing the aftermath in the deeper lines around his mouth and eyes.

I get a sympathetic smile and a quick hug from Rob. To my disappointment, we have no heat, physics, or even childlike mischief. What a pity.

A peep through the back door reveals Charlie and Wild deep in discussion.

I want Charlie to enjoy his happily ever after with Kristyn, not go about solving my problems.

What's that saying, fake it till you make it? If I act it out often enough, I should be able to refuse Wild.

I'm not doing it. I'm sorry, Wild.

My reflection in the mirror doesn't match my words. It's like one of those poorly dubbed K-dramas. I prefer listening to Korean and reading the translations.

Maybe I should learn Korean?

Maybe I should focus on the fire in my backyard.

Kristyn gives an insignificant warning knock and barges into my bedroom. She glances at my perfectly made bed and raises an eyebrow. I ignore her, especially when Rob asks if he can enter.

We never stood a chance.

I will freak out if Wild ever enters my bedroom while I'm in there. He did enter when he helped with my bed, but that doesn't count since I made sure to take my person out of the vicinity.

I give Kristyn a 'what do you think you're doing ’ look. How many times does your friend betray you before you fire her? Her response? She cradles her flat bump to remind me she's pregnant and therefore can get away with anything, including murder.

Rob sits on my bed and looks around with interest. The same bed Wild made. Yep, there is no chemistry here.

"What were you doing?" Kristyn asks. "Your face is wonky, and your face can't be wonky. You're getting engaged."

"Fake engaged," Rob supplies.

I really should fire Kristyn. “ You told him? Just how many people have you told? You know what happens to snitches.”

"I'm pregnant," she whines.

"Yes, she ’ s pregnant,"Rob adds in support.

Are they ganging up on me?

"I'm saying no."If I say it often enough, it will sound natural.

"No way,"Kristyn, the fiend, says with glee.

"I'm curious about something." Rob leans back on his hands, totally comfortable in my bedroom. If we had any hope of having a friends-to-lovers romance, shouldn't he have sweaty palms and be nervous in my personal space?

"What?" Kristyn looks entertained.

Rob looks too concerned for my liking. "How is Wild reacting about the possible closer proximity—I mean, we already know you're nervous—"

"Me? What's there to be nervous about? I'm coolly considering his offer, and I will give him a cool, well-thought-out answer."

"A no." A newly canceled Kristyn confirms with the ‘ no ’ coated in doubt.

I nod.

"Fine. So, how's our groom to be?" Rob asks.

"Fake groom that might never be,"I say.

"That's a double negative,"Kristyn corrects.

I don't know what happened to my friend, but it's not funny. "Wild is very fine, surprisingly fine with all of this. He's the one trying to convince me."

Rob hums a mysterious tune under his breath. "Interesting."

"He's going to ask for my decision, and I'm going to say no."Do I sound like a broken record? Kristyn's expression says yes.

"You should say no because I give you two weeks before you start wishing it was real."Rob nods in the direction of the backyard. "If he's helping with your garden, what's he going to do as a fiancé?"

"Fake fiancé," I correct.

"Same thing."Rob winks. I want to kill him.

Kristyn rubs her belly. My senses start a red alert warning. She rubs harder, and Rob leans over, asking if she needs anything. My eyes narrow on her innocent green eyes.

"I mean,"she starts softly, "she was eight and cute, and she asked Wilder to marry her."

Rob's head swings around so fast that I fear a possible neck injury. "How bold."

"She was wearing my husband's shirt when she did it, and Wilder was like twenty—"

"Sixteen."If she's going to snitch, she should tell the facts.

“ She was so cute,”Kristyn, the snitch, says.

I shouldn't subject my heart to another Wild-inflicted rejection. Something tells me our relationship won't survive it this time. And I would rather have Wild in my life as we are than not at all.

A loud knock on my bedroom door interrupts our conference. Charlie's face is a million times grumpier than his usual grump. I blink at him in semi-recognition.

"Our stepmother is here."

"Huh?"My ears must be deceiving me. But even as I try to unplug my ears, my stomach contents start a sickening roll. I've never been on a ship, but sailors have my sympathy if the current state of my stomach is how it feels to be on a boat.

Charlie nods at my unspoken question.

Like a switch flipping, I'm eight again, and Mrs. Langford is not happy with me, and I'm panicking. I return to my bedroom to check my appearance. Ignoring Rob and Kristyn's questioning looks, I walk to the front door with a straight posture.

Wild stands in the doorway, barring her entry. I shake my head, and he steps aside with a disgruntled sigh. Each step forward I take closer to this woman who means a lot to me feels like I'm wading through a thick murk. The curtains in the Izaacs house part, Charlie and Wilder move to stand on each side of me.

I'm not alone.

Their overprotectiveness is ridiculous since I sat down to dinner with Mrs. Langford just weeks ago.

My stepmother is a beautiful woman. Classy. Picture elegantly coiffed blond hair, diamond earrings, a clutch purse, and a driver. Her eyes are their usual Antarctica levels of cold. She has a way of raising her eyebrow to convey her feelings. A flick of her eyelashes has reduced employees to tears. No kidding.

But under her perfect appearance is a heartbroken woman in love with a philanderer—my father.

She doesn't see Charlie. Mrs. Langford has a needle-point view of life—she sees what she wants and blacks out the rest. Charlie, my father, and my mother are in the blacked-out group.

For reasons I don't understand, she sees me.

"Appearances matter,"she starts in clipped tones. "I get tired of teaching you that."

Tired? The topic of keeping up appearances is like oxygen to her. It doesn't escape her notice, and even when she chooses to ignore it, I believe it robs her of sleep at night.

"You shouldn't open your doors to just anyone." She deigned to shoot Wilder a disapproving look, “ Your half-brother is acceptable--"

"Don't talk about Wild,"I tell her. My voice is soft and respectful because she raised me. My biological mother, who is alive and well,didn't. Mrs. Langford clothed and corrected me where I needed it.

She's my mother.

"You're here for me."I don't make the mistake of inviting her in. Not when I can read the disdain in her ice-cold features. I know the pain she carries—she made sure I knew. She can talk to me any way she wants, but not Wild. Never Wild.

Eyes pinched tight. Mrs. Langford looks from me to Wilder and back again. Charlie remains invisible.

I don't blame my stepmother. Sometimes, I pity her. She's descended from one of the oldest families in North Carolina who made their fortune from chocolates. Class, tradition, and old money are in her DNA. She's also frighteningly intelligent, able to leverage her status and wealth to make anything happen. I'm positive my stepmother can wake up tomorrow and run for office. She's that efficient.

Her only problem is the man she fell in love with. Charles Langford, the sixth. My father. A champion among champions in philandering.

"I'm hosting a luncheon,"she says after a moment. Real worry puckers her forehead. "We need to put a stop to these dirty rumors. You will come. I will send your dress and a driver."Her eyes go glacial. "You will apologize to Sarah and—"

"No."I will crawl to Antarctica, even move there permanently if she wants me to. What I won't do is apologize to Sarah. I owe her nothing.

My stepmother leans forward. She's about to put her foot down and erase my defiance with a flick of those eyelashes. I shift closer to Wild's side. "I was about to call you. To make our announcement official."

"Announcement?"Three voices echo the word.

There's a second of confusion where Charlie, Wild, and Mrs. Langford all glare around and at each other. Then they're shocked and annoyed they agree on something.

"We're engaged."I curl my hand around Wild. I miscalculate, and my hand lands on his waist. Behind his back, my hand is dangling. Awkward. Should I place it on his waist, keep it dangling in the air, or cut it off?

My heart is beating so loud I feel the vibrations down to my toes. Wild goes rigid. Like Wild, Charlie doesn't move a muscle. A bomb explodes in the part of Antarctica inside Mrs. Langford's eyes. Relief.

Yes, ma'am. I'm not my mother.

If only she will believe me.

"E-e-engaged?" I've never seen Mrs. Langford so rattled.

We stand in an uneven triangle, trying and failing to make sense of my lie. It's the biggest lie I've ever told. I never lie. I hate the betrayal and uncertainty it brings. And Mrs. Langford knows me well. She knows I can't lie, especially not about something like this.

I blame my mouth. It's banned from Evie's 'bodyhood'. Why did it choose today of all days, right this minute, to rebel and go off on its own? My brain is so furious with my mouth that it's shooting sparks.

My mouth starts tingling. It's on the edge of pain.

"We wanted to keep it a secret. We've been sneaking around all summer. Since I left home."

"Evie Cassandra," Wild murmurs.

He closes the space between us, and my dangling hand is thankful. It was beginning to cramp. Relieved, I inhale a much-needed breath. It's a mistake. Wild smells divine. He's solid and hulking at my side like he can slay dragons if needed. Next to him, I feel tiny and fragile.

"Since you moved out," Mrs. Langford repeats, "you've been cavorting with him?"

"Not cavorting,"my mouth says. "Engaging."

"Engaging." Her super eyebrows fly up, and her nose tips up like she can smell a lie. "He was out of town, playing in Philly."

My jaw hits the floor in a crash so loud it should send my neighbors rushing out of their homes. Did Mrs. Langford just openly admit to keeping tabs on Wild?

"Engaging." My mouth is defiant. It refuses to back down. "Er, engaged. You know I've always had a crush on him. Something changed--"

"Something,"Mrs. Langford's tone has my feet freezing in my sandals.

Wild gives me a quick squeeze. Of encouragement? A warning?

"We started texting, uhm, you know." I clear my throat. "Flirty messages."

“ Messages,” she repeats tonelessly.

“ Flirty ones.”

“You flirted?”

You know that tense silence during an auction where everyone looks around to see if there will be another bid? They're all looking at me, even my fake fiancé. They're watching to see what I will do.

They have no idea my mouth is determined to remain the MVP of this show. "Of course."I laugh. "How else could I have competed with all those models Wild hangs out with?"

My chest is burning. It's unlike Mrs. Langford to ask so many questions. She has people for this kind of thing. Her eyes remain narrowed on mine for an eternity.

Then she swings those icepick eyes to Wild. "Compete." She spits in disgust. Her eyes return to me. "I will expect you and your fiancé at the luncheon."

Her driver starts the car. He must have gotten the message she was ready to leave telepathically. She turns.

I melt against the steel-like shoulder at my side.

Mrs. Langford stops and turns. I jerk upright. But she has words only for Wild, "You will pick the dress."