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No, this is my reality, and I’ll be damned if they destroy everything I’ve worked for by being careless—they are all rushing into something without considering the small details.
“Stop!” My raised voice is enough for everyone to cease speaking over each other, and face me. “I’ll do it, but we need to make sure our stories are straight. Alex—Chris—was in traffic, to account for him being late.” I close the distance and grasp his tie with one hand, loosening it with my other. After popping his collar, I slip it over his head and hand it to Mother. “You can’t go out there looking like Alex. Take off your jacket.” He does as I ask, and I smooth his collar down. My fingers linger longer than they should, and my cheeks heat as I quickly pull away. Mother takes out a small comb from her purse, handing it to me. “Thank you.”
I reach up to comb Alex’s hair, but he snatches my wrist. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re impossible.” Jerking out of his hold, he reluctantly lets me part his hair the same way Chris does. “We don’t have any styling gel or pomade, but you need to appear unprepared. It works.”
“I’mneverunprepared.”
“There’s no time for this,” Mother grumbles, taking the comb back. “Go find Lisa. While she’s not the best event coordinator in the world, she’ll at least be able to find you a hair stylist, and whoever has Chris’ tux.”
“Why did you hire her if she’s not good at her job?” he asks with a light chuckle.
“No time, Alex,” Mother snaps. “Go!” Then she tells me with less fire, “You too, Jaclyn. It’s almost time.” I nod, and as Alex begins to walk me out, my father’s voice pierces the air. “Jaclyn, you know what’s at stake.”
Heat creeps up my neck; if steam could come out of my ears, it would. I donot, in fact, know what’s at stake, only that my marriage to Chris is part of some elaborate plan of my father’s. With a deep sigh, I straighten my posture and paint on a smile. “Of course.”
Alex leans in to whisper, “You know, anger looks good on you,wife.”
Chapter 2
Alex
Marrying Jaclyn, albeit for show, was not on my election cycle bingo card.
I suppose my life could be worse. I’m not sure how, but it absolutely could.
Undrinkable water for millions, even in my home state...
Broken systems I’ll never be able to fix…
Hungry children all over the United States…
Yes, life could be worse. Not worse than Jaclyn’s if she doesn’t marry my brother. She’s right, the story of her being stood up would ruin her.
I’m putting my ass on the line, and with one wrong move, the truth will get out. My family will ensure my brother’s indiscretions are covered up. I’ll be seen as the power-hungry son who turned his back on his father’s party, leaped across the aisle, and stole his brother’s wife. I can almost taste the bitterness of the headlines now.
When I saw Jaclyn in her white satin gown, the way her breath hitched when she saw me… my heart squeezed in a way it hasn’t in years. We’ve hardly spoken since college, but I’m having flashbacks of her laughing at my stupid jokes while cramming for finals, our late nights researching in the library, and how she would always insist on buying me a drink if she did better than I did on a midterm. Then one day, she distanced herself—stopped sitting next to me in our shared classes, and avoided me in every social situation we were presented with.
I never asked why, and she never explained.
But Jaclyn doesn’t deserve to have her social and political reputation tarnished or destroyed because of my errant brother. She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, and now I’m right there with her. Except, it’s all a game of chess and she’s two moves away from checkmate. There are big players lurking in the background, pulling the strings. And I can’t believe for one moment that Chris loves her; he can’t, considering what he did. Does she love him? After today, I fucking hope not.
She deserves better, even if she chose this… chosehim.
Once the door shuts behind us, I glance in either direction to ensure no one is within earshot and, with my hand on her hip, press her against the wall beside the door. “Before you go back, we have to practice.”
“Are you insane?” she whisper-shouts, eyes molten, and I’m drawn to the heat.
As Jaclyn attempts to push me back, I hold my ground. “I’m serious. Does my brother go to the left or the right?”
“Alex,” she sighs, “stop.” I take a step back, and she takes a couple of deep breaths. Being the smart girl she is, she also checks the hallway before adding, “I don’t need to kiss you to marry you.”
I shake my head and close the distance again, placing my hand on the wall above her head. “Have you forgotten the very last thing the officiant says, princess?”
“He’s a pastor, not an officiant,” Jaclyn corrects, her dark blue eyes narrowing, and I can’t help but admire the fight in her.
Her rebuttal does little to deter me from continuing, “Thepastorwill say, ‘You may kiss the bride,’ and we’ll be forced into it. We both know what the paps and the media expect, and I don’t want to blow my cover here. So, does he go left or right?”
