Page 155 of Seale the Deal

I exhale heavily and meet my friend’s eyes. Long story short, Wrenley didn’t come here for me, I say. Her career imploded, and she was trying to find a way into the fashion industry in the States. Remi helped put the whole thing together, but they needed someone willing to fake a marriage, and that someone ended up being me.

Brandt blinks. You agreed to commit a felony for a woman you barely met?

Well, when you put it like that, it sounds significantly worse, I say. You didn’t hear what happened before all this. Her boss was an abusive asshole who used his position to destroy her career because he decided he wanted someone else.

Men are gross, Walter says into his beer.

I still feel like I’m missing part of the story, Brandt says.

I take a breath. I fell in love with her, I say. And then she got a job offer that’s impossible to ignore, and so we’re taking some space before the wedding to make sure this is what she wants.

Doesn’t she live with you?

She’s staying with Remi for now.

That explains why Remi was busy last night, he mutters.

Walter and I look at Brandt.

A faint flush creeps up his neck.

I just figured you’d be busy with Wrenley last night, he says, attempting a course correction. I wanted a beer and some company, so I thought, hey! Remi!

Why not me? Walter asks.

Same reason. You have a wife.

What about Zeke? I ask. He had to leave camp early because he sprained his ankle. You could’ve called him.

What is this? An interrogation? Brandt says. Let’s get back to the real issue. You’re heartbroken. Now, couldn’t you have saved yourself the trouble by just letting Remi marry her?

Walter snorts. Yeah, right. The girl who used to go door to door, trying to sell Backstreet Boys posters to fund a trip to marry Nick Carter? This whole town would’ve laughed themselves sick.

I huff a laugh despite myself. God, the Backstreet phase was bad. Almost as bad as the sparkly vampire one.

Robert Pattinson, Walter and Brandt say in unison.

Walter points. Jinx. You owe me a beer.

Brandt grins faintly, handing him a cold one. For a moment, it almost feels normal.

Still, Walter says, cracking it open. Easier to sell her marrying Ruger than marrying Remi.

Wait. Am I the last to know this was fake?

In your defense, I mutter, you’ve been out at camp.

Maybe I should just move here, Brandt sighs. Feels like I miss all the juicy stuff.

Maybe if you didn’t always have your nose in a book… I tease, managing a ghost of a smile.

He punches my arm lightly. I should’ve known. You settling down never tracked.

Walter chuckles. Don’t feel bad. You’re actually one of the few who do know.

Who else knows?

Just Walter, Remi, Wrenley, and me, I say. As far as I’m aware.