Faking Ms. Right: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Dirty Martini Running Club Book 1)
Faking Ms. Right: Chapter 24

Shepherd had been right. Richard was really into this party planning stuff.

He sat at the dining table with his laptop, plus a mess of magazine clippings, post-it notes, lists, and menus spread out in front of him. He’d spent the last couple of weeks immersed in this party, happy as could be. Today, he hummed to himself, jotted down notes, held up samples, and seemed to come up with one new idea after another.

Svetlana sat across from him, resting bitch face out in full force. He’d invited her over for dinner, and I wondered if she’d known he meant dinner while planning Shepherd and Everly’s engagement party. Her plate of food sat mostly untouched in front of her. I was pretty sure her meal consisted primarily of vodka tonight.

I stood in the kitchen, pretending to be busy with something, stealing glances at them. It was hard not to laugh out loud. Richard looking happy as could be, asking for her opinion on invitations or declaring I have the best idea for the tenth time. Svetlana, arms crossed, legs crossed, glaring down at Richard’s jumble of party preparations.

How he was oblivious to her pouting was beyond me. But Richard did tend to see mostly what he wanted to see. Shepherd thought his sensitivity was his weakness, but I disagreed. It was his unbridled optimism that seemed to get him into the most trouble. He saw the absolute best in everyone and everything—even when it wasn’t really there.

Maybe I recognized it because I shared the tendency. It was probably why I’d been on so many bad dates. I always tried to see the best in people, and sometimes it got me into trouble too. That was part of why I liked Richard so much. I understood him.

I’d decided I needed some representation at this party if it was going to seem authentic. And Richard asked me every day whether I’d invited my family yet. My parents weren’t an option. They were color inside the lines people. Do things by the book people. Not go along with their daughter’s fake engagement people.

And trying to convince them I was actually engaged to Shepherd was an even worse idea. I took flack about being single every time I talked to my parents. I’d committed the cardinal sin of turning thirty without a wedding ring on my finger. If I told them I was engaged—to my boss, no less—and then had to break the news that the engagement was off? I’d be the ultimate failure. On the brink of landing the much-coveted Mrs. designation, only to have lost it before I could seal the deal.

No, my parents could stay happily in Florida, judging my singlehood from afar.

I tried to ignore the voice in my head that whispered soft suggestions about the engagement never ending. About this sham turning into a real engagement someday.

Slow down, Everly. The weight of this ring is messing with your brain.

I needed to call Annie and ask her if she’d come. I knew she’d have my back, but this was going to be hard to explain. And I needed to tell her I couldn’t ask Shepherd to be their donor.

As far as I was concerned, me sleeping with Shepherd was the final deal-breaker when it came to donating his swimmers. There was an unwritten rule, I was sure of it. You couldn’t ask a man who’d had his peen in your sister to be your sperm donor. It felt wrong to me.

But I didn’t want to tell her I was sleeping with him. It would just make her worry about me, and I didn’t need the lecture about the potential consequences of engaging in a sexual relationship with my boss. I loved my sister, but she was intensely practical. It was going to be hard enough to explain that I’d spent the last month pretending to be his fiancée.

But the girls? They were easy. I knew Nora and Hazel would show up for me. They always did. I sent a group text.

Me: I need you two to come to my fake-engagement party and pretend it’s real. Two weeks from Saturday. You’ll get an invitation in the mail, but save the date, k?

Hazel: I’m so glad you asked. This is going to be a fascinating social experiment.

Hazel: Do you mind if I conduct some informal interviews with guests? Not for official research, just for my own analysis.

Nora: Aw, look at you, making Hazel’s science-loving heart happy.

Me: Sure, Hazel. Just don’t blow my cover.

Hazel: Of course not. I’ll behave as if it’s a double-blind experiment.

Nora: What are you wearing? And how many single men will be there?

Me: I don’t know yet. And I’m not sure.

Nora: I’ll come regardless, but add more single men to the guest list if you can. Hot ones.

Nora: Do you need me to dress you?

Nora: Oh! I already have some ideas. How do you feel about blush versus white? Or maybe mixing it up with an animal print?

Me: Blush, yes. Animal print, no.

Nora: Maybe I’ll wear an animal print.

Me: The party has a theme. Everything is going to be in the style of the Roaring Twenties. Richard’s idea.

Nora: Oh my god.

Nora: Are you serious?

Hazel: Does this mean our clothes have to reflect the theme?

Me: They don’t have to, but they can if you want.

Nora: Oh my god.

Me: You said that already.

Hazel: Nora, I’m going to need your help, too.

My phone went silent for a long moment. Did Nora hate the theme? Was that why she’d gone suddenly silent?

Nora: Sorry. I’m just really overwhelmed right now.

Me: Why?

Nora: Do you know how long I’ve wanted to style someone for a Roaring Twenties party?

Me: No, how long?

Nora: BASICALLY FOREVER

Nora: But no one’s doing them anymore.

Nora: Everly, you just made my day. No! My week. My month.

Nora: Block out Saturday, girls. All day. We have work to do.

Hazel: Do we need to bring dates to the party?

Nora: Why wouldn’t we bring dates?

Me: You just asked me to invite more single men and you plan to bring a date too?

Nora: I like having options.

Hazel: I’m not dating anyone. And I don’t want to date anyone.

Nora: You don’t have to be dating someone to bring a date. Tell you what, I’ll get you a dress and a date. Deal?

Hazel: That sounds like a terrible idea.

Nora: Don’t you trust me to find you a good date?

Hazel: No. Can’t we just be each other’s dates?

I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle. Hazel was still on her anti-dating kick, something Nora couldn’t fathom.

Nora: Fine, I’ll be your date. But if there’s a hot man at Everly’s party, I’m ditching you.

Hazel: That’s fine. I can always Uber home.

Nora: Thank you, my love!

Me: So you’re both good to go? You’ll be there?

Hazel: I’m looking forward to it.

Nora: Wouldn’t miss it.

And that was why I loved my friends.

I put off calling my sister for another hour, but finally I decided to get it over with. I went into the bedroom and sat on the bed, then brought up her number and hit send.

“Hey, Everly,” Annie said when she answered.

“Hi, how are you and Miranda?”

“We’re doing well. What’s up?

“This is going to sound complicated, and also strange, but hear me out, okay?”

“Um, sure?”

I took a breath. “I’ve been pretending to be my boss’s girlfriend.”

“You what?”

“I know, I know. Like I said, hear me out. His dad started dating his ex, who’s a gold-digging harpy. But his dad doesn’t know she’s Shepherd’s ex, and Shepherd is pretty sure he’ll break up with her soon, because his dad has flings with younger women sometimes. But this woman, the gold-digging harpy, is actually trying to get to Shepherd. He didn’t want her to think he’s single, so he moved me in, and I sort of made things more complicated by telling her that Shepherd and I are getting married. So now I’m fake-engaged to my boss. And his dad is throwing us an engagement party and it would help us both so much if you and Miranda would come.”

“I…” She trailed off. “I have no idea how to reply to that. Are you joking?”

“No, I’m serious. I’m pretending to be marrying my boss, and now there’s an engagement party, and it would be odd if all the guests were Shepherd’s. The thing is, Shepherd’s dad, Richard? He’s such a nice man. He has terrible taste in women, but he’s like a big teddy bear. And he’s so excited about this. Shepherd has done a lot for him recently, and I think this is Richard’s way of thanking him. He keeps asking me if my family is coming, and I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Everly, what were you thinking? Do you realize how crazy this is?”

Oh Annie, you have no idea. “It’s fine. Really. It’s not that big of a deal.”

She took a deep breath. “So, you need me and Miranda to come to an engagement party and pretend that we think you’re marrying Shepherd Calloway?”

“Exactly.”

“This is probably the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do. But sure, we’ll come.”

“Really? Oh my god, thank you so much. But don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

“Oh god no, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Annie.”

“You’re—” She stopped talking and I heard the faint sound of Miranda’s voice in the background. “It’s what? Oh no. Everly, I’m sorry, I have to go. The toilet in the bathroom we just finished is flooding.”

“That’s not good.”

“Hang on, Miranda, I’ll be right there. Oh god, I can smell it from down here. I have to go. Love you, sis.”

“Love you, too.”

I could hear her calling up to Miranda again just before she hung up. Flooding toilet. Yikes.

She’d had to go before I could talk to her about Shepherd, but maybe that was a good thing. If they met Shepherd in person—in a non-work setting, where he was less likely to act like a robot—maybe they’d see him as more than just a potential source of DNA. He was a person. A man.

A man I happened to be crushing on, hard, but that was beside the point.

For now, I texted Richard to update him on my guest list. Then I decided I was going to treat myself to a nice hot bath.

Shepherd came into the bedroom and paused, looking me up and down. “There you are.”

“Hey. I was just talking to my sister. She and Miranda will come to the party. And, you know, go along with everything.”

“Good.” His eyes were intense—predatory. I loved it when he looked at me like that. “What are you doing now?”

“I was thinking about taking a bath, but I could do something else.”

“No, take the bath.” He started cuffing the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “I want to watch.”

Nibbling my lip, I got up and darted into the bathroom, already thinking about ways to make this fun. Lying in the water did make my boobs look amazing. He came in and dimmed the lights while I started the bathwater.

I slowly peeled off my clothes while he watched.

Oh yes. This was fun.

Was this still fake? Was it just sex? I really didn’t know. And, for the moment at least, I was okay with that.

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