Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,68

the best idea for the tenth time. Svetlana, arms crossed, legs crossed, glaring down at Richard’s jumble of party preparations.

How he was oblivious to her pouting was beyond me. But Richard did tend to see mostly what he wanted to see. Shepherd thought his sensitivity was his weakness, but I disagreed. It was his unbridled optimism that seemed to get him into the most trouble. He saw the absolute best in everyone and everything—even when it wasn’t really there.

Maybe I recognized it because I shared the tendency. It was probably why I’d been on so many bad dates. I always tried to see the best in people, and sometimes it got me into trouble too. That was part of why I liked Richard so much. I understood him.

I’d decided I needed some representation at this party if it was going to seem authentic. And Richard asked me every day whether I’d invited my family yet. My parents weren’t an option. They were color inside the lines people. Do things by the book people. Not go along with their daughter’s fake engagement people.

And trying to convince them I was actually engaged to Shepherd was an even worse idea. I took flack about being single every time I talked to my parents. I’d committed the cardinal sin of turning thirty without a wedding ring on my finger. If I told them I was engaged—to my boss, no less—and then had to break the news that the engagement was off? I’d be the ultimate failure. On the brink of landing the much-coveted Mrs. designation, only to have lost it before I could seal the deal.

No, my parents could stay happily in Florida, judging my singlehood from afar.

I tried to ignore the voice in my head that whispered soft suggestions about the engagement never ending. About this sham turning into a real engagement someday.

Slow down, Everly. The weight of this ring is messing with your brain.

I needed to call Annie and ask her if she’d come. I knew she’d have my back, but this was going to be hard to explain. And I needed to tell her I couldn’t ask Shepherd to be their donor.

As far as I was concerned, me sleeping with Shepherd was the final deal-breaker when it came to donating his swimmers. There was an unwritten rule, I was sure of it. You couldn’t ask a man who’d had his peen in your sister to be your sperm donor. It felt wrong to me.

But I didn’t want to tell her I was sleeping with him. It would just make her worry about me, and I didn’t need the lecture about the potential consequences of engaging in a sexual relationship with my boss. I loved my sister, but she was intensely practical. It was going to be hard enough to explain that I’d spent the last month pretending to be his fiancée.

But the girls? They were easy. I knew Nora and Hazel would show up for me. They always did. I sent a group text.

Me: I need you two to come to my fake-engagement party and pretend it’s real. Two weeks from Saturday. You’ll get an invitation in the mail, but save the date, k?

Hazel: I’m so glad you asked. This is going to be a fascinating social experiment.

Hazel: Do you mind if I conduct some informal interviews with guests? Not for official research, just for my own analysis.

Nora: Aw, look at you, making Hazel’s science-loving heart happy.

Me: Sure, Hazel. Just don’t blow my cover.

Hazel: Of course not. I’ll behave as if it’s a double-blind experiment.

Nora: What are you wearing? And how many single men will be there?

Me: I don’t know yet. And I’m not sure.

Nora: I’ll come regardless, but add more single men to the guest list if you can. Hot ones.

Nora: Do you need me to dress you?

Nora: Oh! I already have some ideas. How do you feel about blush versus white? Or maybe mixing it up with an animal print?

Me: Blush, yes. Animal print, no.

Nora: Maybe I’ll wear an animal print.

Me: The party has a theme. Everything is going to be in the style of the Roaring Twenties. Richard’s idea.

Nora: Oh my god.

Nora: Are you serious?

Hazel: Does this mean our clothes have to reflect the theme?

Me: They don’t have to, but they can if you want.

Nora: Oh my god.

Me: You said that already.

Hazel: Nora, I’m going to need your help, too.

My phone went silent for a long moment. Did Nora hate the theme? Was that why she’d gone suddenly