Love Happens Anyway Read online

  I pointed at his leg.

  His eyes narrowed. “What about my limp?”

  “Just that you have one. Maybe you got hurt on the job? Is that okay?”

  He pressed his lips together and nodded. He did a lot of nodding, as if he couldn’t bring himself to talk. That didn’t bode well for meeting my parents. But I could work with that. I didn’t have a choice, I needed a fake boyfriend and I needed him now. There was nothing out there in the way of boyfriends-for-hire this late in the game. Also, Luke was seriously hot and ticked every box that I’d created for Marcus. Maybe the fact he didn’t talk much would work for me, and my parents would believe the break-up more this way. I wasn’t ready to perpetuate the lie for more than that time. I was going to find a real boyfriend next year and then I wouldn’t have to sacrifice myself on the altar of a company merger.

  I pulled out the notebook from my pocket, the one with all the notations about cats and family and charity work. I’d taken copies for myself, but the only thing I ever got confused about was the cat’s names. Everything else, from Luke’s hazel eyes, to his dark hair, to his barely-there stubble, was exactly as I had mentioned.

  “Unfortunately, I told everyone your eyes were brown, but I could just pass that off as me being not very observant.”

  “Okay.”

  “I guess asking you to wear contacts is maybe taking it a step too far.”

  “Uhm, yes, no I’m not wearing contacts.” He was definitely a New York native, the way he spoke, and his utter confidence. I was envious.

  “Agreed.” I dismissed the idea out of hand. Then I passed him the notebook. “This is everything you need to know, I think we should meet in, say, a couple of hours and get you a suit. It will have to be off-the-rack, and I would have liked you to have a tailored suit, but a better retailer than the type you’re used to will do for now.”

  “A couple of hours?”

  “Our first commitment is Tuesday evening, dinner with my parents.”

  “Tuesday? As in tomorrow? With your parents.”

  I was confused. This man was an expert right? He was the one who would fit into my life to make things easier for me, and in return I would pay him a lot of money.

  “Is that a problem?”

  I saw his swallow, and he ran a hand through his wavy dark hair. “What about the money?” he asked, and I could see he felt awkward.

  “The owner at AlGetz suggested fifty-percent up front and a further fifty on completion.”

  “Which will be Christmas Eve.”

  “A couple of days before, actually. After the company Christmas event you will be free to spend Christmas with your family.”

  That had been the deal breaker for anyone else who was remotely available; seems like you had to book in the summer for a fake boyfriend who would pretend that close to Christmas day. Oh, and not need them to pretend for more than one night.

  “That’s good,” he said. He didn’t mention plans of his own, but obviously he had Christmas set.

  Luke held out his hand and I gripped it to shake. It seemed as if we had a deal, but I would back it up with a contract, one I drew up myself of course; no point in getting the Henderson McCormack legal team involved. I’m not sure they’d fully recovered from the messy severing of my grandfather’s relationship with his PA back in eighty-three.

  I felt pretty good when I left the coffee shop, having exchanged bank information. I stopped at the woodworking place, drawn in by a beautiful owl in the window and was chatting about the possibility of the artist creating a hawk for my mom for Christmas when I saw that Luke had come out of The Coffee Bean. For a second he stopped and looked at the sky, then he gave this full body sigh and limped through the square and back the way we’d come.

  There was a story there, about the limp, and for a second I’d wanted to ask him all about it, but doing that would have been a step too far. It didn’t matter how he got the limp, all that mattered was that it worked for a backstory.

  I ordered the hawk design, haggled a little on the price, and got promised a pre-Christmas delivery. I’d always loved Christmas when I was younger, and even though I was grown-up and past stockings on the fireplace, I still liked to buy my family gifts. For all of my family’s money and the fact there was only the three of us, we spent a lot of time finding that special gift for each other.

  I guess I needed to buy a present for Marcus—Luke, as well. As a thank you, or something.

  You bought him, you don’t need to shower him with gifts; he’s not your boyfriend.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Luke

  “What did I just do?” I asked Alan as I slumped into the same chair Derek had used.

  “Made yourself an easy thirty.” Alan closed the notebook he’d been writing in. “Less my cut of course, so yeah, an easy twenty at least.”

  “I only did the other two as a favor to you, and that was three years ago, what the fuck am I doing?”

  “You told me you needed the money, I found a way to get it to you.” Alan was so matter-of-fact, and despite being my best friend he was still a major pain in my ass.

  “He wants to meet me to get a suit,” I complained. “I don’t need a suit, I don’t want a suit. I don’t want to do this.” I looked at Alan’s calendar and the big ‘2’ with DEC written underneath it. Derek wanted to break up with his pretend boyfriend before Christmas. Thirty-thousand dollars. What else could I do to get that kind of money that quickly?

  Why do I feel so dirty?

  Alan slid the contract over the desk to me. “Usual stuff in there, client confidentiality, my percentage.”

  “Alan, you’re not listening.”

  My friend sat back in his chair and regarded me steadily. “You don’t want to do this?”

  “No. Of course I don’t, I can’t go around pretending to be a boyfriend to a guy who was so desperate he needed to make up a pretend boyfriend in the first place.” Am I making any sense?

  “Luke—”

  “Jesus, what kind of man does that? Makes up a boyfriend? What possible reason could he have? He could be a fucking serial killer. Is he? Have you done a background check?”

  Alan looked at me, and then shook his head. “I don’t ask questions, but it’s probably a very simple mix-up that he needs to fix. And no, I haven’t done a background check yet, but I will, it just won’t be back before dinner tomorrow.”

  “He told you about the dinner. With his parents?”

  “That was what made him so desperate.”

  “God.” I scrubbed at my eyes, already feeling the sting of remorse at even thinking of making this decision. Part of me wished that Derek had persuaded me, using a combination of some tragic story, along with his own compassion to convince me. But he hadn't, he’d ordered that coffee and spoken as if this was a business transaction.

  It is a transaction, idiot.

  “I’m not sure this is the way.”

  Alan sighed heavily. “I tried to help you, this is easy money, and if you don’t want this…”

  “What?”

  “Think about Sara and your mom.”

  “I am, jeez, imagine what she would say to all of this. She’d be furious, and laugh me out of the freaking house.”

  “Then don’t tell her.”

  Losing Dad sixteen years ago had brought the people he’d left behind much closer. My mom, Sara and me. We told each other everything, but maybe my sister and mom didn’t have to know where the money came from until after the fact. I could sit them down after Christmas and explain that the money to save and relaunch our family bar was not from a bank; that we didn’t have to pay it back.

  “What is it that you do want, Luke? You wanted to improve the bar, work with your family, have another purpose in your life, and this is one thing that can help you. But you’re sitting there and saying you don’t want to act a part, for a few weeks, to get the money. So obviously the bar with your family, isn’t a real priority—”

&n
bsp; “God, Alan—”

  “So old friend, what is it that you want out of life, exactly?”

  “Right now?”

  “Now. At this moment.”

  I want to be in the service still. I don’t want to have hurt myself in a building collapse. I want the bar that was my father’s legacy and that I’d invested all my money in to be a success. I want to use the money I’d earned with pain to make a good life for myself, my mom and my sister.

  None of those words actually made it out into the room.

  Alan nudged at the contract. “Right now, you need money, and this is a good way to get that.”

  I imagined what my mom would’ve said if she had been there in that room with me, what Dad would have said if he was still alive, and what Sara would say when she found out how I’d managed to get the money we needed. None of the disappointment that I imagined from them made me feel any better.

  With a curse I picked up a pen and signed. To all intents and purposes I was Marcus, the boyfriend Derek had made up, for fuck knows what reason, and I was a pretend firefighter.

  “I don’t want him to know.” I tapped at the contract. “About Mom, Sara, the bar, or what happened. And nothing about Dad. Right? None of it. Confidentiality goes both ways.”

  “Understood.”

  My cell vibrated with an address across town and a time to meet Derek that gave me two hours to get there. I stood unsteadily on my bad leg, gripping the desk.

  “Are you okay?” Alan asked, his smile dipping and concern on his face. He’d seen it all, the aftermath of the accident, the fear, the self-hate, but today I was determined all he would see was my dogged determination.

  “I’m fine.” We bumped fists and I left without any more words being exchanged about how I felt.

  That was for the best.

  I was meeting Derek in twenty minutes at this tailor’s which had suits they’d already made and had in stock.

  Had they met me? I didn’t think so. Work had honed muscle, but recently I’d lost some of that hardness, but my legs were long, my waist still trim, and my shoulders broad.

  I didn’t like to tell him that finding a suit for me might be quite hard. I’m taller than average, so pant length was a shitty thing to figure out, and the jackets that matched the pants never quite fit my shoulders. Okay, so I wasn’t quite as buff as I used to be, but enforced bed rest will do that to a man.

  My first instinct when I’d gotten to Alan’s office was to tear up that damn contract, but another invoice in my in-box asking for money I didn’t have yet, and I knew I was going to suck it up.

  How hard could it be? I’d done it before, and Derek was nice to look at. I could even handle a couple of PDAs, holding hands, kissing, that kind of thing. I mean, he was an arrogant ass with issues of superiority who was paying me a lot of money, but he was also gorgeous and exactly my type; all buttoned up and pushy.

  Yep. My type, except he’s rich.

  How easy it must be for someone like him to buy his way through life? I had no concept of how that other half lived, not unless I was helping them out of their burning mansions. Then all I could think was, with all that money they should have installed a sprinkler system.

  Why did he need a fake boyfriend when all he was going to do was break up with said impostor? And why didn’t he have his own boyfriend? God, he must have some really bad habits, like maybe he kicks dogs, or something worse.

  Sara’s name flashed on my phone and the whole thing buzzed with annoyance in my hold.

  “And?” she asked when I connected.

  “We got the money,” I lied. Or, not so much lied as didn’t tell the whole truth.

  “Thank goodness,” she said with a sigh. “Can I tell the contractors we’ll clear the invoices by Friday?”

  Given that today was Monday I made a calculated guess that I should have the five or so thousand I needed right now by Friday.

  “Yes.”

  Sara was quiet and I thought I heard a soft sniffle. “I’m so proud of you, big brother,” she said, so softly I had to strain to hear. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, sis.”

  We ended the call and there would be time enough for me to explain what I’d done. Actually, there were no hefty interest payments, no tying the two of us up in a mess if the whole thing went belly-up. I was selling a commodity, me, and when I told them they’d be happy, right?

  For the longest time I sat on a bench in front of the shop, pressing my fingers into the knot of pain in my thigh.

  I saw Derek arrive, walking with utter determination, and I watched him, enjoying a few moments of just looking at him. He had a way about him, a bearing, outwardly confident and in charge. Maybe it was arrogance that chased his lovers away?

  But, I’d seen more when I’d stared into his eyes; I saw a nervousness, a hint of panic and vulnerability.

  It was that part of him I’d responded to, I knew that. The same thing that had sent me into burning buildings to save people gave me a unique edge to seeing people’s pain. Or so my counselor had told me. That was why I would tear up at sad films, even though I ticked every damn box for macho wannabe hero. Again, her words, not mine.

  What would Derek do if he found out I wasn’t a guy-for-hire at all, but the very thing he said he wanted, a firefighter?

  You’re not anymore.

  That damned voice poking at me, not letting me sleep, or concentrate. I knew exactly how he’d react. Worst case scenario he’d fire me and I’d lose the money, and then, just because he could, he’d ask me more about my old career. The gory parts, the reason I walked with a limp, the reason I was invalided out.

  Nah, let him think I was an escort for hire, one of those pesky annoying ones who wouldn’t sleep with their clients. Not that he’d mentioned that; no, what he wanted was a boyfriend on the way out of his life. Not sex.

  He saw me, waved me over and I stood with determination, ignoring the pain in my leg, and checking the road before walking over to him. This part of town was quiet, with a polite air about it. I don’t even know what I mean by that, but people moved around soundlessly, there were no sirens, or loud music, no shouting, no crowds. Only well-dressed men and women who went about their business.

  Derek was looking at his watch, and I knew I wasn’t late, but I felt a twinge of something, like guilt. Probably left over from the fact I was a liar and a cheat.

  “Silas is waiting for us.” He pushed open the door to a building and into a room that was empty apart from one small desk and a young guy sitting there with an open desk calendar. No computer, no phone, just the kid and a desk.

  “Welcome to Montagues,” the kid said. “You can go straight through.”

  Is that all the kid did? Sat there and spoke those words to whoever went into the shop? All I could think was that it was stupid and hoped to hell he had access to a book, or Facebook to fill his day.

  Derek stopped and I nearly barreled into him.

  “Remember, your name is Marcus, right? Silas is a friend of my mom’s, just stay quiet but respectful.”

  “Uh huh.”

  We entered a large, empty room with mirrored walls. I didn’t want to look at myself, but there was nowhere else to focus. A man sat on a stool in the corner, tapping his lips and assessing me.

  “Hmm.” He opened a door next to him and vanished. This was some freaky shit. Derek was on his phone, his head bent, and I wondered if maybe I should’ve said something.

  Like what?

  Maybe about how weird this place was? That wouldn’t have been the greatest way to start things.

  “Okay?” He’d pocketed the phone and staring at me.

  “Yeah.”

  The door slammed open and the man from the stool walked in, no tape measure in sight, but an armful of suits that he hung from hooks on the open door.

  “This one,” he said in Italian-accented English, and handed me a shirt. I’m guessing what he meant to say was try it on please, but I didn’t ask him to ex
plain. Go me.

  I slipped off my coat, and my sweater, until I was just in my T-shirt and jeans. I hesitated over pulling off my T-shirt, feeling oddly vulnerable at standing in front of these damn mirrors.

  “I’ll be outside,” Derek announced and went out. Beyond this room was a sofa; I could see that much. He sat and pulled out his phone.

  I slipped off the T and pulled on the shirt, buttoning it. I was used to uniforms, and this was no different, and then I shrugged into the jacket, knowing this would likely be the first of many I had to try on. This was worse than getting fitted for my sister’s wedding three years ago.

  “There.” Silas brushed the shoulders, standing behind me and tucking and smoothing. “Some alterations for any others, but I understand this is an emergency.”

  I looked at the mirror, at the picture I presented, shirt and jacket over jeans, and realized that the jacket was perfect.

  Silas handed me the pants and then left the room, and abruptly I was alone with mirrors, the pants and that was it.

  I changed into them as efficiently as I could. Which was way faster than it had been this time last year. I tried to avoid undressing in front of people I didn’t know, and that included Silas and, more importantly, Derek. With the zipper up, and the button done I wondered what to do next. Should I call out and say I was done?

  I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The pants fell to just the right place, the jacket fit me perfectly, even the shirt was right.

  “He’ll take it all,” Derek said, from the open door, with Silas standing next to him. “Charge it to my account.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  I stayed quiet, waited with Derek for the suit, and took it with me when I left.

  Tomorrow evening was date one, and I had the notebook and a two-thousand dollar off-the-rack suit that fit me like a glove.

  I’d be fine.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Derek

  I’d never seen anything as fine as Luke Devers in a suit. The jacket hung perfectly from broad shoulders, the pants hugging strong thighs, and his ass? I’d checked that out when he bent over to pick up his jeans. It was fine.