Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,82

Then when you moved in, I asked Everly to keep up the ruse. I didn’t want Svetlana thinking I was available.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you saying you and Everly aren’t getting married?”

“No, we’re not.”

“And you’re not actually a couple? You’ve just been pretending?”

I glanced away. “Yes.”

He chuckled. I’d just told him I’d been lying to him. That made him laugh?

“What are you laughing about?”

“Oh, son.” He tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, you will soon.”

“Figured what out?”

“You’re in love with that girl.”

I stiffened, feeling the emotion drain from my features. This was hitting far too close to the mark. Right in the center of the bullseye, actually.

He chuckled again. “Maybe your relationship started off as a fake, but it’s real now. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

I wanted to steer the conversation back in the right direction. “I’m sorry I let you go through with the party. I thought it might be a good distraction for you.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re absolutely right, it was. I had a lot of fun putting that party together. Besides, now I don’t have to throw you another one when you and Everly actually get engaged.”

“Dad—”

“Denial doesn’t look very good on you, son. Trust me, the sooner you accept that you’re in love with her, the better things will be for both of you.”

I cleared my throat. “Don’t blame her for this. It’s not her fault. I talked her into it. She’ll feel terrible if you’re upset with her.”

“I’m not, and I’ll make sure she knows that. I probably should be upset with you. I was half an hour ago, and I wish you would have told me the truth in the beginning. But Svetlana was a mistake, and I knew it all along.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“It’s all right. I’ll recover. I always do.”

I stood, still holding my whiskey. “Night.”

“Goodnight, son.”

I went to my office and sat down. Sipped my drink. It was over. No more Svetlana. That part was an enormous relief.

But what did it mean for me and Everly?

I heard the front door open and close. She was home. Her footsteps came closer and she coughed a few times.

She pushed the door open. “Hey, you.”

Did she seem pale, or was it just the light? “Hi. How was dinner?”

“It was good. I had a nice talk with Annie.” She turned and coughed again.

I stood. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I stopped by my apartment to check on things and it was a little dusty. I’m sure that’s all it is.” She coughed again.

“That cough doesn’t sound good. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m okay, really. It’s still early.”

Despite her protests, I gently steered her into the bedroom. She kept insisting she was fine, but it looked to me like she was getting worse by the minute. Her skin was pale and warm to the touch. I helped her out of her clothes and into a pink tank top and pair of shorts, then waited while she finished getting ready for bed in the bathroom.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine by morning.” She paused to cough again. “Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“We’ll see how you feel, but if you’re sick, you’re staying home.”

She crawled into bed and I helped pull the covers over her.

“I never get sick.” Her eyes were already closed.

I sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair back from her face. “I’m sure you don’t.”

She curled into a ball, her brow creased with tension. I rubbed slow circles across her back until her body relaxed and her breathing evened. When I was sure she was asleep, I got ready for bed. It was early, and I wasn’t tired, but I wanted to stay with her in case she got worse or needed anything.

I’d break the news about Dad and Svetlana later. And then we were going to have to have a serious talk about us.

29

Shepherd

Everly coughed all through the night. When I got up to shower and get ready for work, she mumbled something about not being late. But when I came out of the bathroom, she was still in bed.

I sat on the edge of the bed and caressed her back. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she croaked.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick.”

As if her body wanted to prove me right, she curled up with a coughing fit. “It’s just allergies.”

“Do you have allergies?”

“No, but I never get sick.”

I kept rubbing her back. It seemed to help relax her. “You’re still staying