He huffs. “Work on it?”
“Yeah, we want to make sure your ex buys the show, right?” I’m being mean, and a part of me regrets it, but the rest of me insists it’s what I have to do. I can’t show weakness, especially not straight out of the gate.
“There it is,” Nash says in a drawl so sweet it makes my teeth ache. “I was wondering when the bitch would come out. Glad you didn’t make me wait too long.”
Pain blossoms in my chest.
Where does he get off calling me a bitch? He’s the one who was a complete asshole when I tried to reach out to him years ago. He’s the one who made me feel like a fool for imagining he might be someone worth giving up my dreams of exotic places and mysterious men, for a boy who made me feel special and safe.
But I was never special to Nash. If I had been, it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to throw me away. Just like Liam threw me away, even after I’d bared my soul to him and loved him with every piece of my heart.
But all my love wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough.
So maybe I am a bitch. But I have reason to be. The world has taught me it’s safer to be a bitch, to keep my guard up and my heart under lock and key and never risk being torn apart from the inside ever again.
“You’re welcome.” I stare at his chest, refusing to let him see the hurt in my eyes. “So do you still want to do this? I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. I was just trying to keep it real. I think honesty is important in a relationship. Even a fake one.”
Nash is quiet for a long moment. I can feel his gaze boring into my forehead, but I refuse to look up. Finally, he breaks, reaches for his beer, and takes a drink.
A very long, very intense drink.
When he sets the cup back down on the wooden bar, it’s empty.
“Fine, we’ll do it,” he says, “and I’ll keep it real, too.”
“Good,” I say, even as anxiety lifts the hair at the back of my neck. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Good,” he echoes, holding out his hand. I take it, gripping his palm firmly as we shake on our Marriage of Insanity.
“I’ll meet you at the courthouse tomorrow at ten thirty,” he says, releasing my fingers. “That’ll give us time to get the license and sign up for a slot with the Justice of the Peace. He marries people at noon on Saturdays.”
I nod. “I’ll wear white.”
“I’ll wear a suit and bring you flowers and do my best to make this work,” he says, before adding in a low voice. “But the next time you look down your nose at me in public, you’re getting a spanking.”
Before I can respond, Nash spins on his heel and makes a beeline for the exit, leaving me alone with my still half full, now lukewarm beer.
Which is a good thing.
If he’d stayed, I might have felt compelled to pick another fight to hide how weirdly hot the idea of him turning me over his knee makes me and ruined everything.
If I want to maintain the upper hand I have to walk a careful line with Nash—friendly, but not too friendly.
Or you could drop the power play bullshit and focus on the big picture. Keeping Felicity is all that matters, no matter what it takes to make that happen.
The inner voice is right.
For Felicity, I can play nice with Nash Geary.
For that, I’d play nice with the devil himself.
Chapter Nine
Nash
For the first few minutes after I wake up, I’m certain last night was a dream.
Then I check my phone to see a text from Aria, reminding me I’ll need my birth certificate and two forms of I.D. to get the marriage license, and my insane new reality whips into sharp focus. Last night actually happened, I really agreed to marry the girl who broke my heart, just to keep from looking like a fool in front of my most recent relationship mistake.
In the cold light of day, it makes about as much sense as cutting off my head to show my dick who’s boss.
I mean, getting fake engaged is one thing, but why on earth had I agreed to escalate this to full-fledged marriage?
I certainly don’t owe Aria any favors.
“It’s for the baby,” I mumble as I shuffle into the bathroom to start the shower, wincing at the dark circles under my eyes. “Think about the baby.”
I’ve only met Felicity once, but she stole a piece of my heart that night at the March sisters’ BBQ. With a family the size of mine, I’ve spent a lot of time around a lot of babies, and been smitten with my share, but I don’t think I’ve ever met a kid as adorable as Felicity March.