Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

FORREST

I'm surprised as I pull the rental BMW 7 Series up to the guest cottage, where my parents are standing in front of the garage door. They've never been outside to greet me when I've come home for visits. And this event requires my mother's undivided attention, especially the afternoon of the first party, an evening garden party.

She should be sitting at the vanity in her bedroom with her entire crew of makeup and hair people surrounding her. So, the fact that she's standing right here in front of me causes my body to jerk.

"Is everything okay?" Brooklynn whispers.

My initial reaction is to ignore her, but I can't do that, so I answer her. "I honestly don't know. Let's get this over with."

After shifting the car into Park , I turn the engine off and open the door. Instead of walking straight to my parents, I play the perfect boyfriend and jog around the front of the car to open the passenger door.

The entire time I move around, I can feel my parents' gazes focused on me and only me. I open the passenger side door, then hold out my hand, my palm facing up for Brooklynn.

She must feel the attention on her as well. She sucks in a breath, then places her hand in mine before she shifts her legs over the side of the car, places her feet on the concrete, and slowly stands.

Releasing her hand, I place my palm against the small of her back, and together, we make our way toward my waiting parents. My father is focused on Brooklynn, and my mother's attention is on me. The moment we have closed the distance between us, my mother takes two strides toward me and wraps her arms around me in an embrace.

I'm taken aback.

I can't remember the last time my mother hugged me without an audience. Then my spine stiffens because I realize there is an audience here. Brooklynn. This is all for her, to appear to be the perfect family when I know the truth.

Fucking shit.

I'm not so surprised or even curious as to why they're standing in front of me right now. But I don't let them know that I'm onto their shit. It's pointless. Instead, I give them a tight smile as we go through greetings and introductions.

"Well, aren't you just beautiful with all that long blonde hair," my mother coos.

I'm sure she's got a backhanded compliment in that blonde hair comment, but I ignore it. As long as my mother isn't being outright rude, I am not going to start an argument. I need to get my shit handled here, then bounce.

"Thank you, Mrs. Westwood," Brooklynn says. "I'm a hairstylist by trade."

I can see my mother visibly shudder at the words. I don't think my mother's mouth has ever formed the word trade before when it pertains to a career. It's funny to watch her try to hold her judging attitude back in an effort to appear perfect. Because, to my family, appearances are everything.

Every. Single. Thing.

"A hairstylist," my mother says.

The word comes out of her mouth like it tastes bad. It almost makes me laugh, but I'm on high alert for her to say some fly shit.

Brooklynn hums, though she keeps her smile plastered on her face. I'm sure her cheeks are going to ache later. It's hard to be fake for long periods of time. I know because it's the way I am acting right now as well.

"Yes," Brooklynn continues. "A few of my friends and I own a salon."

That causes my mother's eyes to widen. I don't know why it would surprise her that I would bring someone home, that I would date someone with drive and ambition. It's not like I'm sitting around on my ass playing video games all day long. I work my ass off every fucking day.

"That's just wonderful. An entrepreneur," my father announces with a clap of his hands. "We'll let you kids get settled. Don't forget the garden party begins at six."

Then, as if they have done their duty, accomplished whatever the fuck they came here to accomplish, they walk away and toward the main house. I watch them, unsure of how to feel about the encounter.

"Was that weird?" Brooklynn whispers.

I snort, tearing my gaze away from my parents' retreating backs, then look over at her. "You have no damn idea."

brOOKLYNN

I wasn't sure what to expect when I met Forrest's parents, but it was fine. They're a bit snootier than my family, but that's to be expected when you have this kind of money. And as I look around just the guest pool cottage, I know they have money .

The guest cottage has three bedrooms, which also each have an en suite. Forrest and I each take our own rooms and begin to unpack our things and get ready for the party. I have to take a shower and wash my face, then get working on my evening casual hair and makeup.

It doesn't take me long to do my hair. I make braids and twists, then put it in a half-up, half-down style, giving myself long beachy waves. My dress is a spaghetti-strap floral with a blue background and big white roses all over. Sliding my fingers down the front of my dress, I close my eyes at the feel of the silk fabric.

I love silk. It makes me feel sexy and beautiful. I would wear it every day if I could get away with it. My mother always had silk sheets on her and my father's bed, and I remember rubbing the fabric between my fingers any chance I got as a kid.

My golden wedge Aquazzura sandals are the perfect addition to the dress and make my already long legs appear sky high. After buckling the ankle straps, I take a step back and smile at my reflection, but I can't take my eyes off these shoes.

They're almost four-inch height will make walking around outside a little tough, but I know that these people will judge and notice my shoes. Even if my clothes aren't the highest-end fashion designer, it doesn't matter as much as my shoes and my bag are.

Which is why I spent an ungodly amount on both and also why I'll be reselling them. Because these people may care about the highest fashion, but I'm okay with being a midline fashionista.

A knock on the door interrupts my staring at my reflection. I shouldn't be focusing on myself for so long anyway. The extra time is making it to where I'm getting lost inside of my own head and wondering just why I'm putting this much effort into this charade.

It shouldn't matter what brands I'm wearing, just as long as I am in line with the themes, but here I am trying to impress these people, these strangers who my fake boyfriend knows, is related to and also doesn't give a shit about.

Are you there, God? It's me, Stupid .

"Come on in," I call out instead of crawling into a hole the way I want to.

Because I have clearly put a lot more thought and effort into this than I realized, and it's just hit me that I did it for a million reasons, but the main one is Forrest. And he's the last person I should do something like this for because nothing can or will happen between us.

The door opens, and Forrest stands on the other side of it, his eyes finding and holding mine. His lips lift into a smirk until his eyes slide down my entire body, then back up, and I feel like he just fucked me— hard .

When he speaks, his voice is thick and gravelly, and I want to hear him with his voice just like this when he's inside of me.

"You ready?"

It's just two words, but those two words send goose bumps over my entire body. My breath hitches, and I jerk my chin in the air, then turn toward the bed, where my brand-new gold Tyler Ellis clutch is waiting for me.

Picking up the smooth bag, I turn to face him and flash the biggest, fakest smile that I have. The last thing I want to do tonight is to go to this party. Because the only thing that I want to do is crawl into that bed with Forrest and beg him to kiss every square inch of my body.

"I'm ready," I state.

Forrest extends his arm, his palm facing up and waiting for me. I don't want to slip my fingers in his because I know there is going to be a bolt of excitement, of need, that will flow through me just like it does every time he touches any part of me.

Biting back the whimper, I nod my head and take one step forward. He squeezes my hand, his fingers curling around mine, and then we walk. Hand in hand, we move toward the back of the property.

As we approach, there is a massive floral archway. It's got every flower in the pink-and-yellow scheme imaginable, along with different shades of green. It's beautiful. We don't speak as we move one foot in front of the other. I only stop when Forrest does, right before we cross the arch.

"I got your back here, babe."

I'm not sure what exactly I'm walking into. He's acting as if it's a den of vipers waiting to strike the moment I cross the flowery threshold. I don't have time to ask him for any details, though. With a single nod, he turns back toward the arch and tugs me behind him gently as he moves through and onto the other side.

I kind of feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz when she wakes up in the land of Oz, and everything is brightly colored like nothing she's ever seen before. I knew, based on the house and off Forrest's mother's vintage Chanel pantsuit, that this was going to be fancy, but it's beyond that.

This is completely unreal.

I've never seen anything of the like before in my entire life. It's beyond opulent. It's magnificent in a way that I've never seen before. It's something that I couldn't even fathom. I love it, but when Forrest's fingers tighten around mine, I look at him and see that his jaw is set and a muscle tics in his cheek.

He doesn't find any of this awe-inspiring. In fact, he hates it. My heart squeezes and aches all at the same time for him. He doesn't want to be here, but he feels forced. I'm going to do everything I can to help him.

Everything.