real life. What you’re talking about sounds insane! A fake wedding?”
“Shhhh!” I scolded, looking around to make sure no one had heard. It was nine a.m. on Sunday, so the gym wasn’t too crowded since most people were still at church. I’d gone to Mass the previous afternoon with my family before dinner. I couldn’t afford to play hooky since I was asking God for a pretty big favor in the next few months—possibly a near-miracle, if my fertility specialist was right. “The wedding won’t be fake. Just our feelings.”
“So why even bother with a real marriage?”
“Well, we talked about that, and we agreed that we really do have to get married in order for this to work. His dad has to be convinced it’s legit. Also, I’d like it to be legal for the baby’s sake.”
She shook her head. “This is nuts.”
“But it’s happening.”
Ellie let that sink in as she increased the incline on her treadmill. She was three years younger than me, and we shared our mother’s auburn hair and light eyes, although she kept her hair more strawberry blond and was a good three inches taller than my five-foot-one. In contrast, our younger brother JJ was tall like our dad, and he’d inherited our father’s dark hair and olive skin too. Ellie and I used to complain every summer that he was able to get a beautiful golden tan while she and I burned horribly if we didn’t wear long sleeves and bucket hats at the beach.
“So what are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” she asked. “It’s not like you can pretend you’ve been dating him all this time.”
“No,” I agreed. “That’s why I’m not wearing the ring yet.”
Ellie had to grab the rails again. “He already gave you a ring?”
“Yes.” I had to chuckle. “Things progressed quickly last night. And that’s what I’m going to tell the family. We ran into each other at DiFiore’s after Dad’s birthday dinner. We talked for hours. We fell madly in love.”
Ellie shook her head. “No one will believe it.”
“Listen, I need your support on this,” I pleaded. “You have to back me up, Ellie—or I agree, it won’t work.”
“But—”
“I was there for you when you came out to Mom and Dad and told them about Sierra,” I reminded her.
“That’s different,” she argued. “I am actually a lesbian. Sierra and I are genuinely in love. You’re asking me to back you up in a lie.”
“Right. Sorry,” I said, feeling shitty. “I just really want you on my side.”
“I am on your side.” She exhaled loudly. “I’m not sure it’s the best way to go about having a baby, but if you’re determined to do it, I’ll support you. What do I have to do?”
I flashed her a grateful smile. “Just be publicly happy for me. Shut down any doubts anyone raises that this isn’t the real thing. Be amazed that it happened and yet totally convinced this is fate.”
“That’s a tall order. You couldn’t stand Enzo Moretti when you were young.”
“Honestly, there are some things about him that still drive me nuts,” I confessed. “But I don’t need to love him for this. In fact, it works better if I don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because when it’s time to end it all, I won’t be in pieces about it. I’ll be just fine walking away. And besides, I didn’t really hate him back then,” I said. “I just hated the fact that girls were always tripping over themselves to be with him, and he lapped up all the attention like a Golden Retriever. I thought he was obnoxious and conceited.”
“Fair enough.”
“And maybe I was a little jealous,” I admitted.
“Jealous?” She glanced over at me in surprise. “Of him?”
“Kind of. Or maybe I was jealous of those flirty girls.” I tried to puzzle it out. “I was just so shy. I wanted him to pay attention to me, but I didn’t know how to show it. He was just so good-looking and confident. I was tongue-tied around him. So I pretended to hate him. It was easier than admitting I liked him. Know what I mean?”
“I guess.”
“But that’s all ancient history. We made our peace with each other last night and agreed to leave the past in the past. What matters is the future.”
“So when are you getting married?”
“Not sure yet. We’re actually having dinner tonight to hammer out the details of the contract. We both have some stipulations we want in writing.”
“This is so weird. It sounds like a