33. Elise

CHAPTER 33

Elise

I stare at the dress hanging on the new rack Simon bought me.

It’s mocking me.

I’ve been so productive lately. I’ve finished two dresses in less time than I expected. It’s like the guys have been my muses and after they came over and found me drowning in fabric and plans, everything has been on track and better than ever.

Until now.

It’s come to a screeching halt. And I know exactly who to blame.

My new husband.

My new husband.

The one I said I do to this morning. The one I realized I’m madly in love with this morning. The one who I just had blow-my-mind sex with. The one who just left me here afterward. Alone.

That was the fucking plan, calm down.

It was. It was the fucking plan.

The getting married thing was just one thing on both of our To Do lists today. I was also supposed to finish this dress. He was supposed to go through his pre-game routine. I was supposed to order…something. He was supposed to pick up toothpaste and socks.

It was going to be a normal day.

Except that I’m now somebody’s wife.

And I have absolutely no idea what I was supposed to order. Probably something really important though.

And worst of all, I’m in love.

I suck in a breath.

I need the bakery.

I pivot on my heel and stomp toward my door. Not only do I need the routine of baking and frosting right now and plans that someone else put together that I just need to execute, I also need to surround myself with bright colors and sweet smells and baked goods that I can sneak samples of as I work.

I know Luna isn’t here. She’s catering a baby shower somewhere. But Lydia is holding down the fort and baking and frosting something like twelve dozen cupcakes for a going away party tomorrow.

That will be perfect. I’ll be busy, feel productive, and won’t think about the fact that I have a husband.

"Oh my God ! You got married ?!"

Okay, so I was wrong about one part of that.

I smile at Lydia, who pounces the second I step into the kitchen. ‘Well…yes?” I maybe shouldn’t make that sound like a question. I shake that off and try again. “Yes,” I say enthusiastically. “It was really spontaneous. And romantic. And fun.”

She laughs. “Obviously it was spontaneous. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your new husband?”

The ironic thing is, I would be more enthusiastic about this, and selling this fake marriage harder if I wasn’t in love with him. Which sounds so stupid. But if this was still just a part of the plan, and I had stuck to it, and was just doing this for Blake as a friend, I would readily be smiling and talking about the ceremony, and my dress, and how swept off my feet I was when he proposed going to the courthouse.

But my stupid-in-love heart just keeps reminding me that I would have rather had a real wedding with the man I’m in love with, with my friends, like Lydia, there watching us. And right now, three hours after that ceremony, I would rather be at a big party, with all of those friends, eating cupcakes just like the ones Lydia has spread out on the countertop.

Dammit. Do not cry .

I force a laugh. “It was so spontaneous, it didn’t occur to us that we both still had to work today. He has a game tonight. So he’s getting ready. I came home thinking I could get some work done on a dress. Turns out I’m too distracted.” That's the truth at least. I smile at her. “Thought I could help you out.”

“Sure! That would be fun.” Lydia picks up her piping bag again and waves me to the spot across from her. “You have to tell me how he proposed. Actually start way back at the beginning when you first realized you wanted to date him."

I sigh. I can definitely tell the story, but it’s going to be twisting a none-of-it-matters knife into my in-love-and-married-to-my-dream-man heart.

"And what about Aidan and Simon?" Lydia asks. “Where are they?”

Aidan and Simon have been around enough that our bakery family has met them. It doesn’t phase Lydia that I’m dating three guys. Her boyfriend's dad is one of Luna‘s boyfriends. She is very familiar with poly relationships.

"Oh yeah, still… around. But both at work today.” That has to be the strangest way I could’ve described that. And it suddenly dawns on me that Blake and I are going to have to tell Aidan and Simon that we got married.

It probably would be nice for them to hear it from us before they see it on social media.

Good thing they’re both busy at work.

We begin frosting cupcakes, and I launch into my story about how I fell for Blake. I can mostly stick to the facts, including all of the things I love about him.

But I do give my mouth a squirt of icing after every three cupcakes. I need the strength that only pink buttercream can give me.

We’ve got three dozen cupcakes done, and I’m feeling a little sick from all the sugar I’ve eaten, when the bakery phone rings.

“I’ll grab it,” I say. I wipe my hands on the apron as I cross the room. “Books and Buns, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, uh, I’m calling for Elise Starling, please.”

I frown. I never get phone calls here at the bakery. “Can I ask who's calling?”

“My name is Mark Gordon.”

I don’t know a Mark Gordon. “Can I tell her what it’s regarding?”

“Yes. It’s about her recent wedding to Blake Wilder.”

I freeze. What? Shit, shit, shit. “Why are you asking about that?” I ask, working to keep my voice calm.

“I’m a reporter with an online entertainment and sports site. This is big news in the Racketeers world. We haven’t been able to get a hold of Mr. Wilder. Thought I’d take a chance.”

“Well if she just got married, why would she be here?” I ask. Such a great question really.

He chuckles. “Good point. Just trying everything I could think of. I assume you work there though, so you must know Elise pretty well.”

My stomach dips. I should just hang up on him, but this is the business line. I have to be polite so he doesn’t write something bad about Books and Buns. "I know Ms. Starling very well.”

Lydia is watching me. She smiles at that.

“Well, I guess it’s Mrs. Wilder, right?” The guy says with another chuckle.

Hey, I could keep my name. What a dick. But my stomach swoops again. And I regret that three-fourths of a cup of buttercream I have in it right now.

“Want to give me a quote?” he asks. “Tell me something about Elise that readers would like to know.”

I think for a moment about telling him to fuck off, but then decide what the hell? “Elise is amazing. Everyone loves her. Blake’s a lucky guy.”

The guy gives another laugh, but says, “Okay, thanks. Can I get your name for the article?”

“How about you just do the thing where you say it’s a source close to the couple?”

“Got it,” he says. “Well, thanks.” He disconnects.

I look at Lydia. “Well crap. A reporter knows that I work here and has already heard the news about our wedding.”

She nods. “Most of Chicago has already heard the news about your wedding.”

Right. That was the entire point. Blake‘s grandmother has to believe it’s real. If it wasn’t real, why would we let the entire city of Chicago, the entire Racketeers organization, think it was?

The bell on the front counter dings and Lydia sets down her piping bag. “My turn. Be right back.”

I nod and bend over the tray of cupcakes again.

But a second later, I hear her say, “Hi, can I help you?”

“Are you Elise Starling?”

I straighten. Oh, no.

“No. I’m Lydia. Can I help you?”

“I’d like to talk to Elise,” the woman says.

A customer? A design client? But I have a suspicion it’s neither.

“Oh, well, she’s not here right now,” Lydia tells her.

I frown and move closer to the door.

“We saw Blake leaving his apartment alone. Wondering why his wife wasn’t with him.”

Yeah… shit .

“Sorry I can’t help you,” Lydia replies, her voice still upbeat and friendly. “Elise and Blake don’t report to me.”

“But she does work here?” the woman asks.

This has to be another reporter. I nudge the swinging door open just slightly and peek out. Then I freeze. There are like nine people in the bakery. At least that I can see. Four of them have cameras, five of them are holding out what look like recording devices. Definitely reporters.

Lydia shrugs. “Part time. She’s a friend of the owner. But like I said, she doesn’t report to me. If you need a story, you should probably ask the Racketeers or something.”

I’m going to owe Lydia a free pinup dress for this. She’s normally a pretty shy girl, but she’s sticking to her denials and I’m grateful.

“No one’s returning our calls.”

Lydia crosses her arms. “Do I really look like I can be of any help?”

Shit. What am I gonna do now? If the reporters are here at the bakery, I need to slip back upstairs before anyone sees me. Then I need a plan for how to get out of here.

Just then the bell over the front door tinkles and I groan. More reporters?

“Wow! Are we having a sale no one told me about?”

I nearly sag in relief at the sound of Luna‘s voice. She’s back. She will take care of this. Luna always knows what to do. Plus, she’s pretty good with reporters. Dating Alexsei Ryan and Owen Phillips, one of the Racketeers coaches, has put her in the spotlight too.

“You all need to get out of here unless you’re buying something.” And that is the voice of Cameron Bach, Luna's third boyfriend. And grumpy multimillionaire tech genius, he doesn’t take shit from anybody.

He’ll get rid of the reporters. He might also be my best bet for sneaking out of here and getting to the arena without stumbling upon anyone I don’t want to see.

Lydia comes through the swinging door. “This is crazy.” She’s smiling a smile that says she doesn’t mind at all.

I blow out of a breath. “We didn’t really think this through.”

Luna comes through the door next, followed directly by Cameron.

“You are so lucky you filled me in on everything,” she says. “Though a heads up on the actual wedding might’ve been nice before I saw it splashed over social media.”

I pull Luna to the side and lower my voice. “It was really spontaneous. We honestly didn’t think through anything other than letting his grandmother know that this whole thing was real enough that she’ll give us the cabin.”

“Well you better get upstairs. Get ready for the game, you can go with me and Cam. Then you won’t have to worry about sneaking out of here on your own.”

I pull her into a hug. “Thank you. You guys are the best friends.”

She pulls back and gives me a wink. “And I assume you won’t be coming home with us since you’ll want to spend your wedding night at your new husband‘s house.”

Yeah. That would make sense. But of course we didn’t talk about that either.

We honestly hadn’t made any plans past the courthouse.

And after the weird moments upstairs in my apartment where I felt that rocking connection, I really don’t know what to expect from my new husband.

This was all supposed to be straightforward and easy.

But of course it got messy.

I make my way upstairs, planning to get ready for tonight. I do expect to have a lot of eyes and attention on me at the arena. I guess we did talk through that part. We knew that the news would break before the game tonight and Blake has filled in the PR department, so I expect that I’ll be up on the Jumbotron a little bit. Now seeing how much social media coverage there has already been, I’m guessing the crowd will pay attention to me as well.

Again, I am thankful that I will be there with Luna and Cam. Dani and Nathan will also be there in the stands and between my two girls and their grumpy-rich-always-get-their-way boyfriend and husband, I’m not too worried about getting harassed.

The wall phone that Simon had installed for me two days ago starts ringing and I jump. I am still not used to that thing. I’ve only had three calls and it was the guys all calling to check to see if it worked. I press a hand to my chest, trying to catch my breath as I cross the room. I swear to God if this is a reporter, I’m ripping this phone back out of the wall.

“Hello?” I answer hesitantly.

“Elise Elizabeth Starling, this is your mother.”

Oh, shit. My mother never uses my middle name unless I’m in huge trouble. And the fact that she’s calling my landline reminds me I still have no idea where my phone is.

“Hi, Mom.”

“You need to find your cell phone. It’s pinging in your apartment, just an FYI.”

My mother has me on Find My Phones because well, I lose my phone all the time. “I have looked for it. I don’t know where it is.”

Maybe it’s in the refrigerator. I walk over, phone still pressed to my ear and open the door. No phone in the fridge.

“But first you need to explain to me why my friend Linda was the one to tell me that my daughter got married today.”

Thankfully, the cord to the phone also reaches over to one of my stools. I slump down onto it. “I’m sorry. Mom, it’s not real. Blake and I are doing it so that he can inherit his grandmother‘s cabin. She told him he had to be married for her to give it to him. That’s it. I’m doing a favor for a friend. But it’s gotten all blown up because he’s a famous hockey player. And honestly…”

I trail off and my mom stays quiet for a moment, then she says, “And you didn’t think it through.”

Unlike when my father talks about me being scatterbrained or unorganized, my mother‘s words come out with affection. “I really didn’t. And I should have. The thing is it doesn’t mean anything to us so we didn’t think about it meaning anything to anyone else.”

“I see. Well, that is quite a favor.”

“It is,” I agree. “But I know what it feels like to have your family a little too involved in your life and the choices you are trying to make. So when he asked for my help, I agreed. Almost immediately. Plus, I really like him. He's a very good guy. And he really wants and deserves that cabin.”

"You looked absolutely gorgeous in all the photos," my mother says. She pauses, then adds, “Those photos looked very real Elise. You looked extremely happy. Even in love, I would say. I know you’re used to being on stage and playing a part. You're a very good actress.”

There’s something in her voice. Something that tells me she’s not entirely convinced.

“Oh. Well, good. I want to sell it. For Blake’s sake.”

“Sure. For Blake’s sake,” she repeats. “And the marriage is not real, is that right? You just went to the courthouse together, all dressed up, to take photos so people would think that it was?”

“Well no. It is legal . But…” I have to swallow hard. “It’s not real .” My voice is definitely shaky now.

“Elise?” my mom asks in her I-know-you-so-just-cut-the-crap voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I want it to be real.” I feel tears stinging my eyes. And then I say the words out loud for the first time. “Mom, I’m in love with Blake Wilder.”