Page 16 of Gin and Bear It

“No shit.” I sigh. “But I’m lying to everyone. To their faces.”

“And?” Ash looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my body for a moment before snapping back to my face. Like it wasn’t intentional. What a little ego boost. Because aside from my boobs being hard to hide, I look as frazzled as I feel.

“You don’t feel bad about it?” I raise an eyebrow. “At all? I feel really bad. I don’t make it a habit to lie to my loved ones.”

“You think I do?” Ash looks annoyed for a second. I shrug. “It’s for the greater good, Jada. Remember that.”

“It’s for my greater good. And yours. And your bandmate’s,” I say. “’The rest of the world doesn’t give a shit.”

“Of course. So how do you want to tell them?” Ash asks.

I study my scribbles.

“I think we should start with the hardest targets. My dad and brother, then Waylon. I’ll take my family, and you’ll take Waylon. Then after that, Waylon will probably tell Bianca, who’ll be polite and pretend that he didn’t tell her when I tell her and Rose and the rest of my friends. And Waylon might tell y’all’s mom, too, and she’ll tell basically everyone in Jepsen with a pulse.”

“You want me to tell Waylon?” Ash shifts in his seat. “He’s your best friend.”

“And he’s your brother.”

“I know, but…” He shrugs, a look I can’t quite decipher coming over his face. “You’re probably closer to him at this point.”

He sounds tired, all of a sudden.

“I’m just trying to divide up the labor. And I doubt he’d believe me anyway.” Pipsqueak starts kneading my boobs, butting his head against my chin. “I think Jeremiah will call bullshit on me immediately, but my dad might not. Jeremiah might be able to help me sell it if I can get him on my side.”

I doodle a star near where I’ve written Jeremiah’s name, then a few more to help me think. Jeremiah knows what the hotel means to me. He has to go along with it.

“Yeah, I’ll tell Jeremiah and you’ll tell Waylon at the same time. Face to face, so he’ll believe you,” I continue. “Then I’ll tell my dad, and you can tell your mom. Then we’ll tell my friends about our impending engagement and announce the marriage after it happens.”

“About that…” He rakes a hand over his head. “My band is in limbo. Going public on Instagram would make everything a whole lot messier. We still haven’t officially announced that the band is breaking up.”

“Shit.” How did I forget about the fact that he’s kind of famous? Most people would recognize his band’s songs, for sure, but he could go through a crowd without being stopped. They have fans who’d probably have a lot of questions if he went from band member to married and working at his family business, though.

That annoying bit of empathy for him pops up and I shove it down. Now is the time for business, not feeling bad for his rough patch being out there in public.

“The fans sense something’s up since we’ve cancelled our upcoming shows, but we’ve always been a shit show,” he says. His eyes go to Pip, or to my breasts. “Does he just…do that all the time?”

“The boobs? Yeah. He puts in overtime at the biscuit factory and I guess my tits have the best dough,” I say. “Anyway, how do we handle the fans?”

“We should only post on your account. Is it private?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

“Yes. You should probably follow me.” I tell him my handle, and I get a notification that he’s followed me moments later. “What if they find out about me? Will I get any jealous women in my DMs, telling me I don’t deserve you?”

Ash laughs a full-bellied laugh. The unfamiliar sound makes my heart flutter. It’s a nice laugh, and I have ears. My body’s reflexes can’t be stopped.

“You’re assuming I’ve read my DMs recently. Maybe they will. I’m more worried about the press, but let me handle that, okay? It’s not for the uninitiated.”

I finish my coffee, which is long cold. But the fact that he’s not going to hang me out to dry with his fans or the media warms me up a tiny bit. “Thanks.”

“I told you I’m not that big of an asshole.” He rubs his thumb along the side of the mug. “What about the wedding itself?”

“We need to get it done ASAP.” I kiss the side of Pip’s head and extract him from my boobs. “A quick courthouse thing early next week after we tell everyone, then maybe a reception? Delia will one hundred percent plan something.”

His mom’s superhero name would be The Hostess, because she’s always ready to have people over and blast them in the face with Southern hospitality.

“Not if I tell her not to.” He scoffs. “What do we need a big party for?”

“To show we’re in love? It wouldn’t hurt,” I say. “And your mom will love planning a party. She planned that one for Waylon’s fourth grade graduation that involved catering and a band. You think you can get away with not having a party for your wedding?”