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“You know, back in my day, a man asked for the parent’s blessing before proposing.” He delivered the line with all the seriousness of a mafia don, looking to shrink me down five inches.
“Dad!”
I cleared my throat. “While I appreciate the sentiment, to be honest, when I heard another man was interested in her, well, I had to move quickly to capture this rare beauty for myself. You can’t blame me for rushing things. I couldn’t imagine anyone else in my life.”
I ended with my eyes on hers, bringing her hand to my lips. She covered her heart with her other hand, making an Aww sound, and that told me I was winning at being a fake fiancé.
“That said,” I returned attention to Cal. “It would be an honor to receive your blessing, sir.” Kissing up to him wouldn’t hurt.
Her stepdad nodded, and a slow grin spread across his face. A slight improvement to his gruff demeanor.
“Good. Very good,” he said in a crisp voice. “I see you had a reason to reject my choice in suitors for you after all, Honey.”
She squeezed my hand. “Trust me. Edward is no match for Buddy.”
His eyes were on me again, this time deeply inquiring. “But what do you know about the film industry?” Fuck, it was like one step forward, two back with him.
He caught me there. “Only what Honey has taught me. But business is business, and I have plenty of experience in that. I can be the supportive husband she needs, by her side always. I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Forever can sometimes be a muddled concept.”
“We’ll take it one day at a time,” I assured.
“With a woman like Honey, I think that’s a good plan. She’ll keep you on your toes, and that’s a fact.” He paused to light a cigar, despite Honey’s disapproving look.
After a few puffs, he spoke again. “I met your father, Buddy. A few years ago, I attended the Hollywood Charity Horse Show Gala, and he was the keynote speaker. He’s an avid supporter of anything benefitting children’s and veteran’s charities, but you probably knew that.”
“Yes, sir.” Since Dad’s assistant sent me monthly updates about the family fund, I knew. When reading those, I kept in touch with whatever Dad invested in or where he spent his time, much more than our irregular phone calls.
“I came away with a rather excellent impression of him from our first meeting. And if you’re anything like him, then I know Honey will be in good hands,” he continued.
Next to me, I could feel relief sweep through her. Me, too. It certainly helped to know we had managed to gain his approval for our fake marriage.
“Of course, there’s one more person you need to impress,” he announced. Honey’s shoulders fell. “You must take to him to meet Margarita or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“You can’t be serious. She and I hardly speak these days.” Honey lashed back.
“And don’t I know it? She calls all the time asking about you.”
“Uh, who’s Margarita?” I asked, hoping simply for the drink at a bar.
“Cal’s second wife; my stepmom. She lives outside of Boston now with her new husband.”
“There was a time you were close. I don’t know what happened, but the private jet will be ready for you two at the hangar next week. You’ll go see Margarita and when you get back, I’ll throw you an engagement party here at the house. In three months’ time, you’ll have the wedding at my home in Malibu on the cliffs above the ocean. I’ll have a wedding planner contact you to begin making all the arrangements.”
Honey tensed all over again. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble, Dad. A simple civil ceremony will do. ”
“Nonsense. I insist we do this my way. Or not at all,” he cut in with a warning. “You’ve got a fine young man here. The least I can do is to send off my stepdaughter in style.”
It’d irritate the crap out of me, that he’d dictate our wedding plans if they were real. I thought Honey’s fear of men ruling Hollywood was a little irrational, but now I began to see her point. Although only in her life temporarily, as a fake husband, this wouldn’t work for me. I’d need to stand up for us as a couple or suffer getting railroaded by him.
Before I could offer a rebuttal, though, another call came in on his phone. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed us. Honey stood, and I followed her, leaving Cal with a final respectful nod of my head.
At my car, she launched herself into the passenger seat. “I don’t know how we’re going to pull this off with him dictating wedding details.”
“Relax. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I drove us away, unsure where we were headed. “For the most part, I think I held my own against Cal. Our visit went well. ”
“It felt quite real enough,” she agreed. But the underlying current of worry I detected in her put me back on edge. Was it just this fake marriage or were all marriages this complicated?
