Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

16. Jake

16

Jake

There’s so much I want to say in this moment, but I don’t think Tilly’s ready to hear it. I made that quip about marriage earlier because I was frustrated with her ex. He’s a tool of massive proportions and just cannot accept that things are over between him and Tilly. He has nothing to do with me, and even I want him gone.

But it was a spur-of-the-moment comment. Well, it was at the time. I can’t deny that since saying it, I’ve been ruminating on the thought.

“The answer is yes. I would.”

I watch relief flood across her face. “Really?”

“Hey, he’s your ex, but the man is getting on my nerves. I want him gone nearly as badly as you do.”

That’s not the only reason I’m so open to the idea of a fake marriage, but it’s all she needs to hear right now.

“Okay,” she says a little breathlessly. “So, how will this work?”

“We get married.” I grin.

She gives me a look, but then she smiles. “I’m serious. How do we do it? Do we just tell people? Are we going to tell them that it’s pretend, like we have with the engagement? Will we have to live together?”

Lifting my hands up in surrender to her quick-fire questions, I say, “Woah. Slow down. Let’s do this one step at a time. Besides, with a discussion this big, I need coffee. Come on.”

Ten minutes later, we’re sitting on the porch with coffee in hand, discussing how this will work at a far slower pace than Tilly’s earlier questions. With a quick Google search on her phone, we discover that there’s no notice period in our state, so it’s totally feasible that we could have just gone off one afternoon and done the deed.

We agree to tell everyone the same thing we did about our engagement.

Tilly shakes her head. “They’re going to think we’re nuts.”

“From what I hear,” I counter, “everyone’s loving the idea. They’re all totally on board with getting rid of Bryan.”

She sighs then. “I didn’t really give them much credit, did I?”

I don’t want her to feel bad again, so I ignore that question. “I’m sure your mom is thrilled, though.”

I know Bella. She was devastated when Tilly left, but she was also really disappointed that Tilly and I didn’t end up together.

“Oh, don’t get me started,” Tilly blurts, a comical expression on her face. “If I have to hear her tell me that ‘something might come of this’ one more time, I swear, I’ll go mad.”

While I smile, I swallow back the rising memory of pain that rears its ugly head every now and then. Our lives could have been so different. Tilly would be my wife, and I’m certain we would have produced one or two smaller versions of ourselves by now.

“She’ll get over it,” I say, trying to keep the hurt from my voice. “Right. So now, we need to pick a date for our wedding. Does tomorrow suit your schedule?”

She grins over at me and the upper-class voice I’m using. “Sure. Tomorrow is fine. I think I can fit you in.”

“How gracious of you,” I reply.

Before she leaves, Tilly surprises me with a hug. “Thank you for doing this,” she says. I’m trying to concentrate on her words while struggling to cope with my reaction to her body pressed so closely to mine and the wonderful scent of coconut that seeps from her hair. “I know I’ve caused you nothing but trouble since I got back.”

She steps back then, and I look down at her. “You always did, Tilly,” I say jokingly.

Grinning up at me, she then turns on her heels and heads for her truck. Once more, I watch the plume of dust follow her up the track, and with my hands tucked into my jeans pocket, I heave a sigh.

Back in the house, I head upstairs. I don’t need to worry about organizing a room for Tilly. There’s a guest room already made up for when Cal comes to stay. I head through another door and step into a room I haven’t ventured into for a long while. It’s full of old junk, a storeroom of a time long gone.

Pushing past the old boxes, baseball bats, and bags of clothes, I reach a dresser that sits against the far wall. Opening the top drawer, I gaze down at the item I put there a long time ago. Picking it up, I slip it into my pocket. I never thought it would see the light of day, but life has this habit of throwing you curveballs that take you completely by surprise.

I meet the guys at the bar for pool later that evening. I haven’t really talked to them since Tilly and I arranged the fake engagement, but we’ve kept in touch in other ways.

“How’s the ball and chain?” Phil smirks. He’s standing at the pool table, waiting for Chris to take his shot.

“Jeez, man, did you just walk out of the twentieth century?” I quip back. “I haven’t heard that expression in decades.”

Phil turns to the others. “Did you see how he expertly avoided the question there?”

The others nod and grin.

“Yep,” Chris says after missing his pocket.

“Is it working?” Joey says after taking a swig of his beer. “Is the ex falling for it?”

I quickly spin around and scan the bar before turning back to Joey. “Will you keep your noise down? He could be in here.”

“He’s not,” Joey says, shaking his head. “Greg’s been keeping us posted. He hasn’t left Culling.”

My eyes fly wide. “Greg?”

“Oh, yes,” Chris adds. “Mel has her man on the job.” He grins. “Tilly is her best friend, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” I drawl sarcastically. “Thanks for letting me know.” I look at Joey. “And to answer your question, no, it didn’t work. The city slicker hasn’t bought the fake engagement.”

The guys look disappointed for me. “What are you going to do?” Phil says.

“More to the point, what’s Tilly going to do?” Chris says. “This is her problem, not Jake’s.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that, man,” Phil says. “Look at him.” He jerks his head at me. “He’s committed now.”

“You should get out while you can, Jake,” Chris says, leaning over the pool table to line up his shot. “You tried; it didn’t work. Wash your hands of her and move on.”

“We’re getting married,” I say bluntly.

Chris completely misses the white ball, and in no time, all three are gawking at me. Then they all protest at the same time.

“Are you out of your mind?” Chris blurts.

“No way,” Joey cries.

“This is nuts,” Phil balks.

I raise my hands to calm them all. “It’s not real. Just like the engagement isn’t real,” I assure them. “But we figure it’s the only way he’s going to leave Tilly alone.”

“How is this your problem?” Chris presses.

“Listen. I know you guys are worried about me, but I have everything under control.” None of them look convinced. “Do you really expect me to stand by while Tilly is in trouble? I mean, really? After the history we’ve shared, what kind of guy would that make me? Even without our history, what kind of guy would that make me?”

Their stern expressions fall a little. Chris drops his gaze and shrugs, Phil looks sympathetic, and Joey looks at me knowingly. These guys know me better than anyone. I’ll help anyone if they are stuck, and they know it. In fact, I have on many occasions.

Sure, what I’m doing could be seen as crazy, but if I’ll help a stranger, I sure as heck am going to be there for someone I’ve known for most of my life.

They’re now nodding and shrugging; it’s hardly convincing, but I almost believe they get my point.

“So, Tilly Collins is going to make an honest man out of you,” Chris says.

He’s clearly trying to be understanding, and I’m grateful for that. These are my best friends. I don’t want tension between us because of my decision.

I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out the small box I found in the junk room earlier. I flick it open, and they all gawk at it with wide eyes.

Chris balks. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” I nod. “It’s the one I bought just after prom.”

They’ve all seen this ring before. I showed it to them ten years ago when I told them I was going to ask Tilly to marry me. I was so sure she would say yes, I’d already bought our wedding bands. Once I proposed, I was going to let her choose her own engagement ring.

“Are you sure this isn’t tempting fate?” Phil says.

I shrug and shake my head. “The worst has already happened. What’s there to be worried about? Besides, this marriage is pretend, just like the engagement.”

Joey gives me a long look. “Yeah. Right.”

They all start laughing then while at the same time giving me knowing looks. I laugh along but shake my head, letting them know they’ve got it all wrong.

They have got it wrong, right?

Tilly arrives the following morning at the same time as usual. I’m curious as to whether she’s told her parents what we plan to do, and so, once she’s out of the truck and on the porch, ruffling Elsa’s fur, I ask her.

“Oh, Lord, it was a disaster,” she sighs.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

She gives me a look. “You know my mom, right? Daydreamer, a little ditzy, head in the clouds?”

I grin at her sarcasm. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh, she has us married, settled down, kids running around the place, the works. I couldn’t emphasize enough that it wasn’t real, but I don’t know why I bothered. She’s determined that some miracle will happen and that we’re getting back together.”

As I’m listening, my smile wanes. Would that be such a terrible thing?

No! You’re not doing this again!

I would be a fool, wouldn’t I? Besides, I told the guys last night that this marriage was fake. Evidently, they doubted my word. Now, as I think about it, I have to wonder if I believed it myself.

Do what you have to do to get rid of this guy, and then get out.

And a week ago, I would have agreed wholeheartedly. But it’s been nice having Tilly back. All I know is I’ve been waiting for Gerry’s truck to arrive every morning in anticipation of seeing her.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Tilly asks, breaking into my thoughts.

“If I remember correctly, we’re getting married.”

“Oh, yes,” Tilly cries, sounding like she’s forgotten already.

Maybe it’s because we’re not actually leaving the ranch. After today, we’ll be man and wife, kind of.

I dig into my trouser pocket and slide the box across the table. Tilly’s eyes fly wide, and her jaw drops.

“Well, we can’t be married without a ring, right? Open it.”

Timidly, she takes the box and opens it, her eyes remaining wide as she gazes down at it. “Oh, wow. It’s beautiful. But…”

“I went out and bought it last night,” I lie. “Mine’s upstairs.”

Carefully, she lifts it out of the box, then eyes me with the unasked question.

“Sure, put it on.”

“It’s a perfect fit,” she gasps. “That was a pretty good guess.”

I nod and smile. Of course, it fits perfectly. Her fingers haven’t changed in ten years.

“So that’s it?” she asks. “We’re married?”

“That’s it,” I reply.

But even as I smile, I feel a strange wrenching in my gut.