Can't Let You Go (13 page)

“Ian didn’t have to.” I was seconds away from having to use my shirt to wipe my drippy nose. Some girls cried prettily. I looked like I was having an allergic reaction requiring the stab of an EpiPen. “In the last month I’ve had such a good dose of reality. It’s one thing to be a star in a college production, but it’s quite another to be anything out there with the pros.”

“Are we talking about your career or your relationship with Ian?”

“Both pretty much kicked me straight to the curb.”

“You can’t let a breakup convince you you’re not worth loving. Ian
cheated
on you. Do you really want to be with someone like that?”

“Of course not. We were falling apart way before that. It’s not so much the cheating.” But the old voices whispered if I’d been enough, he wouldn’t have strayed. “It’s mostly how he treated me after. It’s the things he said today. I wanted him to know he hadn’t hurt me. That I didn’t need him. That I wasn’t this discarded girl who could fit her meager belongings into a bag from the Piggy Wiggly. So when Frances blurted out that I was engaged to you”—Maybe this was the most terrible part—“I didn’t stop her.” I looked at Charlie. “I could have, and I didn’t.”

“Like the spirit of Lies and Matrimony just took over your body.”

Amen and testify.

“I don’t like that this guy is here, but in inviting him, you grandmother was just trying to help,” Charlie said. “She had no reason to think Ian would abandon his production and travel across the globe to help In Between. If that’s what he’s truly here for.”

“I doubt Ian believed my sudden declaration. I mean who gets engaged two weeks after breaking up with your boyfriend?”

“Two people who used to love each other.”

Oh, my.

When a man looked at you like Charlie looked at me now, it was hard to form complete sentences. He made me want to believe in true love and fidelity and happiness. He made me want to believe that I was worth it.

That I was somebody’s first choice.

And not someone just tossed away. Again.

“Do you think he’s really sticking around?” Charlie asked.

“Yes. It’s a big PR stunt to appease his play backers. I kind of made a muck of things before I left. Before I got benched.”

Charlie’s lips curved. “Do tell.”

“I might’ve added an extra scene in
Much Ado About Nothing
. Let’s just say Beatrice went sprinting across the stage chasing her rat-fink boyfriend, screaming out every insult that came to mind.”

“Shakespeare would’ve been proud.”

“The theater community was not.”

Even if I wanted to, I would never work in London again.

I stood up, pulled Charlie to his feet, and gave him a hug, letting his scent fill my senses. “I’m going to go find Ian. Tell him the truth.”

“Katie?

Eyes closed, I took a cleansing breath. “Yes?”

“Stay engaged to me.”

The depraved part of my brain thought that sounded incredibly hot.

The logical part thought maybe I hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

“If it’s important for Ian to see the breakup didn’t bother you, then we’ll show him.”

“Why? Why would you do this?”

“Because I don’t like him.”

“This makes two of us.”

“And I don’t trust him.”

“Try finding him pretzled with Felicity.”

“If you think he traveled all the way from London to do some community service, you’re fooling yourself.”

“He doesn’t want me back.”

“I’m not too sure about that. But whether he does or doesn’t, he’s not here with total Good Samaritan intentions.”

“You can’t pretend to be engaged to me.”

“What happens if you tell Ian the truth?”

“I’ll be humiliated, what’s left of my dignity will be shredded, and he’ll gloat the entire time he’s here.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“Charlie—”

“We’re doing this. A little diversion from the stresses of work.”

“Does your job make you smell like bacon too?”

“Something like that.”

The warm breeze ruffled through his hair, mussing it, making him look boyish and young. His devilish smile had me hearing the peals of real wedding bells, and I shook my head to dislodge the sound.

“You realize this isn’t going to work though, right?” I mean, pretending for a day was one thing. But longer than that? Impossible.

“We should probably get our stories straight.” Charlie slipped his arm around me, folded me into his side, and we walked toward the diner. “You girls like a June wedding, don’t you?”

“I think I might be sick.”

“I’m more of a destination wedding guy myself. Hawaii. A beach in Florida. But your dad will expect you to have a church ceremony.” His hip bumped into mine. “Help me out here. I don’t know about any of this.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job.” Frighteningly so. “The whole town will have to be in on it. We’ll have to tell them what’s really going on. And our parents are pretty much going to kill us.” Especially mine. My dad was a pastor, for crying out loud. I could already see this for sermon material.
Please turn to the book of Matthew and let us discuss that all too common problem of when your daughter lies to a British gigolo and one small Texas town . . .

“Ian will probably be gone in a matter of days,” Charlie said. “If he truly has a play to get back to.”

“We’re seriously doing this?” I wanted to save face, but did we dare?

He stopped at the corner of the diner. “Seems that way.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” I leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, and before I could step away, Charlie caught me in his arms.

“Is that all you got for your beloved?” His gaze dipped to my mouth.

It was more than the Texas sun warming my skin. “We don’t like public displays of affection. We’re a very private couple.”

“Must’ve been your last fiancé.” And with that, Charlie pulled me to his chest and kissed me like I was his first pick, and not someone who’d been left behind. Like I was cherished. Loved. My insides nearly liquefied as his arm hooked behind my neck, bringing me closer before changing the angle of his kiss. It was sweet tea, sunshine, and the most indulgent chocolate all rolled into one.

I finally took a step back. If I didn’t return to the diner, Loretta would fire me and make me return all my super-sized t-shirts. “You’re kind of good at that.”

“I’m willing to practice more.”

His eyes held promises I didn’t know I could accept. “Anything else I need to know about us?”

Charlie slipped his hand into mine as we walked. “We like to golf.”

“I’ve never even held a club.”

“You love to sit with me and watch SportsCenter.”

“I sound amazing.”

“And you adore cooking for me on a Friday night.”

“I do make the best frozen pizzas.”

“Anything I should know?”

“You’re pretty swell, Charlie Benson.”

“That’s it?”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s enough.”

“Y
ou’ve really stepped
in it this time.”

“I know that.”

“I mean big, big doo-doo.”

“Yes, Maxine.”

Maxine hopped over a crack in the sidewalk as we walked to a closed Micky’s Diner that night for the committee meeting. “I’m saying you need man-sized waders to walk through this level of—”

“I get it.” My teeth hurt from clenching them so hard. “But who invited Ian here in the first place?”

“And your parents thought
I’d
be the problem child while they were gone, but—”

I held open the door of the restaurant. “Yes, you’re a virtuous saint.”

“What you did was impulsive, reckless, and just a tiny bit scandalous.” Maxine winked as she walked past me. “I love it.”

“No, do not even start that. This will be over before it begins.” I followed her toward the back of the dining area where the others sat at a large table.

“Georgie and Michael had an arranged marriage on
General Hospital
, and it turned out just fine. Well, except for when that mob boss gunned them down. But they showed up alive again a year later, so it all worked out.”

“A truly inspiring story.”

“Gosh.” She pulled out her chair and sat down. “Being fake-engaged makes you grumpy.”

I settled into a seat beside her and said hello to the group of fifteen or so townsfolk who were there because their business was on the chopping block or they just wanted to be involved. The chatter swirled around us and hovered like a cloud, but no matter who was talking, it was the same conversation. Thrifty Co. was a bully, there were lives on the line, and they weren’t going to let the corporation win.

Maxine put a thumb and finger to her lips and produced an ear-splitting whistle. “Let’s get this meeting started. My granddaughter needs to go shop for honeymoon lingerie.”

All heads turned toward me.

“Yes, we hear congratulations are in order!”

“When’s the big day?”

“I’ll do your wedding cake!”

“The Lonestar Motel has a bed that vibrates for a quarter.”

“Um, thank you. For all that.” I took another look to make sure it was just us in the diner then lowered my voice. “There is no wedding. It’s a long story, but for reasons I don’t want to get into, I’m kind of faking this whole thing.”

“Honey”—Mrs. Gleason gave her husband the side-eye—“I’ve been faking it for forty years.”

“I need everyone to just kind of go with it,” I said. “And if any of you outs me to Ian, not only do I walk away from this project, but I make sure someone spits in your coffee at Micky’s for the rest of your lives. Any questions?”

A gray-headed woman raised her hand.

“Yes, Mrs. Higgins?”

“Are you in some kind of legal trouble?”

“No.”

“Are we going to be interrogated by some immigration agent?”

“I was born right here in Texas.”

Maxine took a sip of water. “You look pretty alien to me.”

“If you needed someone to marry you, I would’ve volunteered.”

“Mr. Henry, you’re fifty years older than I am.”

“I have my own chicken house empire.” He waggled his white brows. “You could’ve been my first lady.”

Maxine patted his veiny hand. “If she and Charlie don’t work out, you are definitely her runner-up.”

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Good Lord, whoever said you couldn’t go home had clearly not been from In Between. Nothing had changed. “As I mentioned in my email to you all—”

“I prefer text.”

“I don’t do the computer.”

“More of an Instagram man myself.”

“As I said in my email, we need data. We need to show them the numbers. How many workers will lose their jobs? How much income will be lost? How much in taxes to the city does your business contribute?”

“Let’s have everyone’s information to Katie by Wednesday,” Loretta said.

“We also need to collect testimonials.”

“FiberLax is really effective stuff.” Mr. Delmott removed his Dekalb ball cap. “Keeps things moving and grooving, if you know what I mean.”

No wonder Thrify Co. had easily bought their way into town. “I meant a testimonial of how your business has affected someone in In Between.”

“Oh. Still,”—He nudged the guy next to him—“good stuff.”

“That lawyer we hired didn’t ask for any of this. Are you sure he’s worth a hill of beans, Don?” Loretta asked.

“He’s my grandson from Houston. Mary’s kid. Of course he’s good.”

“Why isn’t he here?” Loretta asked.

“He’ll be at the town hall,” Mr. Henry said. “He told me to take notes.” The man clicked the end of his pen and returned it to the napkin he’d been writing on. “Did Katie say this was a shotgun wedding or one of those arranged situations?”

Loretta’s eye roll was as dramatic as it was disgusted. “I’ll give you a testimonial,” she said. “Last year when John Thomas’s house burned down, Foster’s hardware store donated all the lumber to rebuild it.”

“And Miss Loretta takes leftover food to the shelter every Thursday,” said Mr. Gleason.

“That’s exactly the sort of thing I’m looking for. We want to appeal to logic and emotion.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make your wedding cake?”

“There is no wedding, Mrs. Holcomb.”

“But we will need some samples,” Maxine told the woman. “For authenticity’s sake.”

“Well, whatever it takes to help you, Katie dear,” said Mrs. Holcomb. “You’re our leader, and we want to help you like you’re helping us.”

“We’re gonna make this fake engagement look real authentic,” said Mrs. Gleason. “Just you wait and see. It’s the least we can do.”

“All I need you guys to do is just keep the secret, okay? That will be more than enough.”

“We won’t let you down, Katie.” Mrs. Holcomb pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key. “You just leave it to us.”

*