I know, I know…

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. A downright dangerous idea.

I shouldn’t have even asked. But I did, and Nate said yes. Maybe it was my stark desperation talking, but no agreement had ever sounded sweeter, and when I turned around in the hall to see if he was serious, the way he looked at me made a tingle shoot down my spine as his eyes drank me in. There was an unexpected heat in that gaze, and it sparked something to life deep inside me. Something that had lain dormant for a long time.

I wanted to slap myself for a second. What was I doing? I couldn’t be fantasizing about this man. I didn’t know a single thing about him, other than what I’d occasionally seen in the gossip section of my favorite local news site. To top it off, I was paying him to be my pretend boyfriend. This was purely a business transaction—we were helping each other. There wasn’t anything romantic going on here.

But then he winked and said he couldn’t wait to carry out the plan with me, and I melted all over again.

I couldn’t keep the silly smile off my face as I rounded the corner. That is, until I bumped right into a tall man. Oh, for the love of god…

It was everyone’s favorite misogynist, Tripp Huntington-Davis.

“So sorry,” I said primly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He smiled. “That’s okay,” he said. “They’re about to start shooting October, and obviously they need your guidance. I volunteered to find you.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” I said, giving him a tight smile as I brushed past him. “I was just in the bathroom.”

Tripp grabbed my arm to stop me, and I was so shocked by the action that I simply stood there with my mouth hanging open. His grin grew wider. “Bathroom, huh? I heard you talking to Nate Scott.”

Mental note: we all really needed to stop having private conversations in hallways.

I shook Tripp’s hand off my arm. “Yes. I bumped into him on the way back,” I said, hoping he had been too far away to hear anything properly. Especially considering what Nate had been saying about his money going missing. He said he didn’t want his investors finding out anything and running scared, and Tripp was the kind of guy who’d spread gossip like wildfire to get an edge on the business world competition.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You can stop pretending, Georgie. I heard everything.”

I gulped. “Everything?” I squeaked.

He nodded. “I heard you offering to pay him five grand to be your wedding date on Saint Clare Island in a couple of weeks. And I have to say, I’m a little offended. You told me you had a boyfriend earlier when I asked you out. Clearly, that was a lie.”

“That’s all you heard?” I asked tentatively.

Tripp nodded, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. So he’d only heard a little bit of the conversation. He didn’t know Nate was broke. At least there was that small silver lining.

“So why’d you lie?” he asked.

“Er….”

Tripp sighed and held his hands up. “I get it. It’s fine.”

My eyes widened. “You do?” I said. Hopefully he was about to say that he understood why I turned him down for dinner earlier—because he was an absolute jerk.

No such luck.

“Yes,” he said, giving me a wise, understanding nod. “It can be very intimidating to go out with someone like me. But I don’t bite.” He winked, and I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. This man had the self-awareness of a teaspoon. “And I’d happily be your date to this wedding,” he went on. “For free. You know, my family actually owns a resort on Saint Clare Island. So we could stay there. Kismet, huh?”

I tried to remember what I’d seen in the mirror this morning while I got ready for work. I knew I wasn’t completely plain-looking, and with the right makeup and grooming, I actually looked pretty decent. But I seemed to have morphed into a straight-up supermodel in the last few hours. Why else would Tripp be so hell-bent on having me? As much as I already despised him, he was what most women would call a catch. On paper, anyway. Rich, tall, handsome, well-connected. He could have anyone.

So why me?

My ego quickly deflated as I realized I hadn’t suddenly transformed into a stunningly beautiful goddess. There was another far more obvious reason Tripp was so intent on getting me to agree to go out with him. It was simple. Men like him couldn’t stand to hear the word ‘no’. It was inconceivable to them that someone might deign to refuse or reject them in any way, and I’d wounded Tripp’s sensibilities when I said no to him earlier.

I was really going to enjoy saying it again.

I took a deep breath. “Tripp, I’ll be honest with you. I overheard part of your conversation earlier, and I found it appallingly sexist. And according to someone else who overheard the rest of your little speech, you’re also racist and homophobic. I’m not intimidated by you. I just don’t want to spend time with you. Sorry to be so blunt, but that’s the truth.”

Tripp barely looked ruffled. “So… that’s a no, then?”

I began to walk again. I didn’t even turn my head over my shoulder to look at him as I replied. “Yes, Tripp. That’s a no.”

“Playing hard to get, huh? It’s okay. I know you’ll change your mind,” he called out to me as I walked away.

I resisted the urge to flip him the bird and strode back into Studio B.

* * *

The rest of the shoot went well, and we ended right on schedule. After packing everything up and thanking everyone for their help, I sighed with relief and headed home, desperate for a hot chocolate and a good book.

My phone buzzed at me the second I stepped through the door. It was a text message from my sister.

Georgie! Have you finished work yet? I want to hear all about this new boyfriend of yours! I’d call you but I’m on hold with the island cake decorator at the moment. Last minute changes Please text back ASAP, I’m sooooo bored and so desperate for goss!

I smiled at her enthusiasm and tapped out a response. What cake flavor did you two decide on? And what do you want to know about him?

Chocolate. We’re boring like that. Anyway, where’d you meet? What’s he like? And what does he look like? I wanted to ask so much stuff earlier, but I knew you were busy.

I smiled. Chocolate isn’t boring! Everyone loves it, so it’s a great choice. And I met him at work. He’s tall. Dark hair. Very cute. He’s nice, too.

He sounds incredible. I’m so happy for you! But I thought you said earlier that you met through friends?

Shit. I did say that. Through work friends, I meant, I hurriedly typed back. Nice save, Georgie.

Oh, right. Awesome! So what does he do?

I hesitated before replying. I knew Nate was involved in cryptocurrency investing, but to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. Bitcoins confused me.

He’s in business. Investing sort of stuff. Kinda like the little startup your wonderful fiancé has been working on! Speaking of him, did he pick out his suit yet? I said, deftly changing the subject.

I wanted to get the heat off me and stop answering questions about Nate for now. It was better that I wait until we’d had a chance to discuss our plan properly and get to know certain facts about each other. That way we wouldn’t trip each other up and say contradictory things at any point.

Yes, he picked it up the other day. Oh! I have another question, Libby replied.

Shoot, I said, dreading whatever was coming. What if she asked something about Nate that I simply didn’t know and couldn’t even fake my way through?

I briefly considered abandoning my plan and coming clean with her. Lying about having a boyfriend was already stressing me out this much, after all.

But then I realized I couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. Sure, she would understand and forgive me for the stupid lie, even if it snowballed and led to me offering a random guy money to come with me to the wedding. But that wasn't the point.

The point was, if I told her, I'd be making her wedding about myself and all my emotions. I’d essentially be saying ‘I felt so miserable about being single while you were getting married that I felt the need to make up all this stuff’. That would only make her feel guilty. She would be beside herself if she thought she’d contributed to making someone feel bad.

I couldn’t do that. It was her special time. Not mine. She and her fiancé had enough on their plates at the moment, what with trying to ensure a destination wedding ran smoothly. A wedding they’d planned in under three months, too. They didn't need to worry about my feelings on top of everything else, so I had to live with my stupid, selfish lie for now.

Libby’s response finally came through.

You just reminded me when you asked about the suit. I know Bobby’s not meant to see me in my dress before the day, but am I allowed to see him in his suit? Because I did. Is it bad luck? Have I jinxed our wedding?

I sighed with relief and laughed. Don’t be silly. It’ll be fine. I don’t think there’s any rule about seeing the groom in his suit beforehand, anyway.

Okay, good. I just worry, you know? Especially because Bobby has no family coming to the wedding. I just want everything to be perfect to make up for that.

Everything will be perfect! I promise. Your wedding is going to be absolutely amaze-balls! And I’m sorry for saying amaze-balls. Haha.

Thanks G <3 Sorry, I have to go! I’m finally off hold. Talk soon, sis! Xx

I slid my phone back into my pocket, intent on heading into the kitchen to make the hot chocolate I’d been craving for a while now. Instead, I found myself drawn to my bedroom. More specifically, to a box in the back of my bedroom closet. I wasn’t sure what made me want to look at it. Perhaps all of Libby’s wedding planning was finally getting to me.

I crouched down and pulled the little box out. It was coated in a thin layer of dust after sitting there untouched for so long. Four years, to be exact. I only bought this place six months ago, but I rented it for years beforehand until the owner said they wanted to sell. The box had been sitting there nearly the whole time.

I tentatively opened it, my heart thudding as I peered inside at the contents. Two satin sashes sat on top of a gauze veil. One sash was white and marked ‘Bride’ in black lettering and the other was black with ‘Groom’ in white lettering. Beneath the veil lay a plethora of other cheap, silly bachelorette party items.

I picked up one of the sashes and smoothed it, running my fingers across the lettering. Before I could stop it, a tear splashed onto the print. I wiped it away and dropped the sash like it was scalding hot.

There was nothing valuable in this box, and I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d held onto it for so long when all it did was make me miserable. It was junk. But I guess it reminded me that I wasn’t always the perpetually-single loner my mother thought of me as.

Four years ago, I’d been in Libby’s shoes. I was the one planning my dream wedding. I was the one cutting conversations short because the cake decorator finally took me off hold. But that was over now. That dream was shattered. I never even walked down the aisle.

Now here I was, all alone again. I hated to admit it, because it made me feel weak and pathetic, but the loneliness was always there. Always with me. It was palpable. Even when I was with friends or work colleagues, I still felt a small pit inside me, knowing that when I returned to my townhouse, I would be by myself.

What was the point of buying this place, anyway, if I didn’t have someone special to share it with? When my dad was still alive, he always used to say that anyone could have a house, but not anyone could have a home. A home was filled with love. Laughter. Family. A home was something you built with the most special people in your life.

Apparently, I just had a house.

I sighed and stood up, trying to snap out of my increasingly-morose mood as I contemplated my loneliness. My inner monologue was starting to sound a bit too much like a moody teenager.

Maybe my mom was right. Maybe it was time to get a cat.

I pulled out my phone and flopped on my bed. Just as I was about to Google ‘local cat shelters’, a text popped up on my screen.

George, it’s me. We should get together soon to discuss this fake-cation plan of ours. I’ve been thinking about it, and we really need to make this believable if we’re going to fool your family.

A smile tugged at my lips. It was Nate. He’d obviously called me George to tease me about this morning. It was just a silly little crack, but a curl of heat licked at the skin between my legs anyway.

I tapped out a reply. I was thinking the exact same thing.

Good. So what do you say…Saturday for our first fake date?

My mood soured again at the word ‘fake’. For a second, I’d let myself get carried away, as if this were a real date. Just like earlier. I really needed to quit doing that.

Sure. Saturday it is. I put my phone down again and frowned, my eyes drawn to my closet again. The dusty box was peeking out from where I’d left it a few minutes ago. Filled with a sudden burst of energy, I marched over to it and yanked it out all the way.

Perhaps the whole reason I was still single and miserable was because I was holding onto all this stuff. It was bad Feng Shui, right? Or something like that. The past was the past. No point keeping a bunch of old junk to remind me, even if it served as proof that someone once wanted to marry me.

I gathered up the sashes and veil and stuffed them at the bottom of the suitcase I planned on taking to Saint Clare. When I arrived on the island in two weeks, I was going to burn them and throw the ashes in the ocean, three thousand miles away from my home and my life here. That seemed like it might help me in a symbolic way. I'd be leaving my old troubles behind, as far away as possible. Hopefully then I could embrace the future with open arms and stop this silly moping around.

My phone pinged. It was Nate again. I’ve got a few ideas for the fake date already. It’ll help with our backstory :) I’ll text you the details later when I’ve got a solid plan, okay?

This time I didn’t feel so bad when he said ‘fake date’. Sure, whatever was happening between us wasn’t real, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun along the way, right? As long as Nate and I played it carefully and stuck to our stories, we could have a great time on the islands, and this could be a truly memorable vacation.

What could possibly go wrong?