Chapter Eight
Fallon
Holy. Shit.
Connor may have just given me a small peck, but I could still taste him on my lips and never wanted to stop.
I’d never met a man that could turn me on or keep me reeling from one little kiss. One little touch.
And I was going to marry him for money. I had to try and hide that I was thinking about much more than a temporary arrangement with us.
After Connor had signed all of the paperwork on the house, we stopped at a restaurant on the second floor of a bookstore.
“What?” I asked, staring at him as he smiled at me from across the table, sipping on his pint with the view of the river Liffey behind him.
“You’re cute. That’s all.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, in a really into yourself sort of way,” I said, stuffing a chip, or “crisp” as he liked to call it, in my mouth.
“So, now that we’ve had a few dates, are we going to talk about a wedding? June? You can invite Leah to be a bridesmaid, and if you want to, ask your parents. I can even see about a nurse for your nana, all expenses paid. I’ll take care of it,” he said, nonchalant, waving his hands across the table. “Leah and Nana already know about me, so why not at least let your family and friends have some fun in Ireland?”
My face fell just thinking about John and Tina Smith in Dublin. It would be great to see Nana, even if it was for a fake wedding, but not my parents. They’d get wind of me marrying a franchise heir and probably ask for money as soon as they set foot on Irish soil. Then they’d blow it on cheap beer, or maybe whatever was stronger that they had their sights on. I hadn’t talked to them much after high school. They never thought I could amount to anything, and to them, college was just a piece of paper.
Nana was the one who encouraged me to pursue my master’s degree. The woman barely had a dime to her name but pimped me out to babysit for all of her friend’s grandbabies and neighbors who needed lawn-mowing, so that I had money for things my student loans wouldn’t cover.
I never told my parents about Ireland. Hell, I didn’t even tell my parents I was getting my master’s. I just mailed them a graduation announcement. They showed up, sans Nana, claiming she was too much of a burden and couldn’t bring her without a nurse. I paid for their dinner and hotel rooms, maxing out my credit card. Then they asked when I’d be moving home and paying them rent.
That night, sitting in the apartment I shared with three other strangers because it was the cheapest way to go, I drank a bottle of Pinot and applied for every job as far away from them as possible. That was how I ended up in Ireland, sitting across from one of the sexiest men I’d ever known, and talking about a fake wedding.
“No parents. But maybe Leah. We’d have to see about Nana. We’d also have to get our stories straight on everything. Leah and Nana are perceptive people.” My shoulders slumped. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them at all, and just do something small with our coworkers and your brothers.”
“Then what are we going to say when they see the engagement online? Maybe Nana doesn’t have any social media accounts, but I’m guessing Leah does,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
My gaze flicked upward, my temples throbbing as I tried to process everything. “Do we have to put this on social media?”
“Everyone puts everything on social media. If we don’t, the first thing the board will suspect is that we’re hiding something. Like I said before, you can tell your family whatever you want when this is over. You can let them believe we had a whirlwind fairy-tale romance that ended badly.”
His hand went across the table and covered mine, intertwining our fingers. I wanted to let myself forget everything and just get lost in the feel of him. But my mind was already too fuzzy to even relish that.
“You know this isn’t normal, right? Normal people just don’t meet and talk about getting married,” I said, pulling away, even though my heart beat faster. My body was already begging for contact.
But this was all temporary. It was for the money, and for Nana and me to have a better life.
“Normal is just a place in Illinois. I visited there once. They have some decent pizza places, but not much else to write home about,” he said with a grin, taking another long gulp of his beer.
“I know. I went to school there.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ah. A Redbird.”
“You know about Illinois State?” I asked, genuinely puzzled anyone had heard of the place unless they were a fan of Steppenwolf Theatre Company.
“I try and know most college towns. They’re the best places to put a pub.”
I couldn’t argue with him on that one, so I took another sip of my pint.
“Do you decide where the pubs go in the U.S.? Is that part of your job?” I asked, curious as to what his role was.
He laughed. “I get some say in them. It usually falls in the CEO’s hands, but the board can veto.
Jack has been acting as the CEO since Da passed and can’t officially take on the role according to the will. But, God willing, everything works out for all three of us Murphy boys, and soon you’ll be the wife of the CFO, and sister-in-law to the CEO and president.”
“Is that your plan? After all is said and done with…our situation…?” I asked, trying to think of the best way to word it.
He eyed me over his glass. “My plan right now is to stay out with you as long as I can tonight, so I don’t have to go back to sleeping at Jack’s.”
“I’m glad I’m useful for something,” I muttered, a twinge of pain hitting my gut.
“You’re useful for a lot of things. You keep my smart-ass in check, and you’ve agreed to marry me.”
“It’s so romantic when you say it like that.” I took another drink, trying to pretend his words didn’t sting.
“What? You want romance? I can fill the flat with flowers. Maybe even some shamrocks? If that’ll get you to head down to the chapel with me right now, let’s get this over with,” he said as if he were talking about getting through a dentist appointment.
This was just a means to an end for both of us, and my chest clenched. I needed to get whatever was brewing in my mind in check and not think anything more of the man across from me. Connor pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through it, which was the universal sign that a conversation was over. All the thoughts I had of something more disappeared, and I tried not to show how quickly my heart was already starting to break.
“Hey. You wanna see a show?” he asked.
“A what?” I asked, blinking once, then twice, before raising an eyebrow.
“The Abbey Theatre isn’t far from here. Remember? It’s one of the places I put on your Post-it notes,” he mused. “It looks like there’s a drag queen performance tonight.”
“Drag queens?” I asked, not sure I heard him right.
He put his phone in his pocket before gulping down the rest of his pint and setting the empty glass on the table. “Yep. I just bought us front row tickets. Better finish your drink, and we’ll head to the theater.”
“You’re serious?” I widened my eyes. We’d gone from zero to sixty and back again in a matter of minutes. That seemed to be Connor’s style in everything, and it could give a girl a whiplash.
He laughed. “Have I lied to you yet?”
I waved my hand before taking a big gulp of my drink. “Nope. I guess we’re seeing a drag show.”
…
The historic theater was packed with people, one of the most diverse crowds I’d seen since I’d been in Ireland, even though I hadn’t been out enough for comparison.
When the curtains opened, out came a buxom blonde with long eyelashes and a voice that sounded like my nana when she had her sleep apnea machine on. “Hello, hello. Who do we have in the audience tonight?”
She squinted and walked across the stage before she stopped right in front of Connor. “Well, hello, tall drink of water. Please tell me this little blonde isn’t with you.” She put her hand on her hip, looking between Connor and me.
Connor grinned, taking my hand in his. “Sorry, ma’am. This yank is my girlfriend.”
“Humph,” she said, looking at me and pointing a long, airbrushed fingernail. “Honey, you bagged yourself the curk here. Is he as good of a time as he looks, or do you need me to take him off your hands?” She waggled her very thin eyebrows.
“No. Um. He’s all mine,” I stammered, though I should have given him hell and said otherwise, but when he squeezed my hand, it was the only response I could think of, wishing it were real and not under the pretense of a false marriage.
“Humph.” She looked back at Connor and waved a hand. “Your loss, honey.”
The crowd roared with laughter as she walked to the other side of the stage to talk to another person in the audience.
“I thought I was going to have two blondes fighting over me. That’s a dream I didn’t know I had,” Connor said, shooting me a wink.
“Don’t get too cocky. I could still hand you off to her,” I said, trying to sit straighter.
“I think we both know that won’t happen,” he whispered, bringing my hand to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on my knuckles.
For the rest of the show, a tingle stayed where his lips had brushed, and it didn’t stop even after we left the theater and went into the fresh night air.
“Can I walk you up to your flat?” Connor asked, though I was pretty sure he was going to do it no matter what I said.
“I guess. I should probably protect you in case any other blondes try and take my man.”
“Oh? I’m your man now?” He laughed as I looped my arm through his.
“Would you rather I call you something else? You used to always call me mo grá during our calls when you were in America. Though, I’m still not clear on what that means.”
“It’s like your American pet names—honey, baby, or whatever other weird names you use.” He waved his free hand.
I nodded as a silent agreement, but knew, after some internet research it meant “my love.” Though the term was for an Irish man in a flirting context, I had a feeling he wasn’t going to admit that part.
“Your brother always refers to you as an eejit or gobshite. Should I call you that instead?” I asked, raising an eyebrow with a slight smile.
He laughed, shaking his head.
“Normally I’d be pissed off if a girl called me that, but not with you. Technically this is the longest relationship I’ve ever had with a woman. Especially one who likes to yell at me.”
“You’re just saying that because I saved you from becoming the love slave to a drag queen,” I said, thinking this was the longest friendship I’d had with a guy. Sure, I dated Ray, but after a few months, things were already stale. With Connor, it was like a breath of fresh air every single day.
“No. I’m saying that because it’s true,” he said smoothly, bumping my shoulder with his.
I wanted there to be so much more to his statement. I didn’t know what exactly, since this was all a ruse, and screwing with that could mess up both of our futures. I just knew that something inside of me fluttered each time he was close to me.
We stopped just outside the door to my building. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?” I asked.
“It’s late. I should head back to my brother’s place before he starts blowing up my phone.” He let out a laugh, but there was no humor to it.
“I forgot you were staying at Jack’s.”
He nodded. “On his sofa for now. Until we close on the new place.”
“You could stay here. I mean, the flat is owned by your company, and you did pay for new furniture, so it’s only fair,” I spat out in a massive word vomit.
Oh. My. God. Shut up, Fallon, and stop inviting fake husbands to share your apartment.
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
I shrugged, ignoring the voice in my head that was screaming at me to stop talking. “It is technically your place, after all. And I do have a comfy new couch. Might even be better than your brother’s.”
Wait. Now I’m asking him to stay? Temptation? Hello? Stop it.
He smirked. “Okay, Fallon. I guess we just got to the next level in our relationship. Spending the night together.”
“But no sex!” I put my hands up, palms out to him.
“No sex. Got it.”
When we got up to my apartment, I went to the bathroom and put on my cutest pajamas, which were just a pair of pink cotton shorts and a matching tank top.
I couldn’t remember the last time I spent the night with a guy, not even Ray. My stomach was doing flip-flops as I finally let out a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.
Connor was already stripped down to his underwear, a sight I couldn’t help but marvel in.
Those tailored pants and shirts were hiding too much of his lean body. My gaze lingered from the smattering freckles on his arms to the dips and curves of his six-pack, all the way to the four-leaf clover tattoos right at his boxer line.
“Like what you see, pinky?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips.
“Don’t get too cocky. The Loch Ness Monster will pop out of your boxers if you aren’t careful,” I said, throwing a blanket and pillow from the bed at him so my eyes wouldn’t travel down to precisely what I was talking about.
“You know Nessie is in Scotland, right? Not Ireland,” he said.
“Of course, I do,” I scoffed, setting my glasses on the nightstand before crawling into bed. If I couldn’t see, then I couldn’t stare at his beautiful body and get any other ideas that were probably going to star in my dreams that night.
“Good night, Fallon,” he called.
“Good night, Connor.”
“Sweet dreams. If you snore, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
I threw a pillow, which landed somewhere between us, before I turned off the light, leaving us in darkness. The only sound was his laughter and then light breathing.
I stared at the ceiling for too long, replaying the night in my head. It was one of the best dates I’d had in a long time, even if it wasn’t real. I had to keep telling myself that this was a fake marriage, but when I drifted to sleep, my last thoughts were of Connor and his wicked smile.