Fraudulently Ever After by A.R. Casella & Denise Grover Swank

Author:A.R. Casella & Denise Grover Swank [Casella, A.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940562599
Publisher: Laughing Heart Press
Published: 2021-11-17T18:30:00+00:00

In the morning, it’s not a horse-drawn carriage that picks me up. Or a limo. No, it’s a familiar black Range Rover. My face instantly breaks into a huge grin.

“Isn’t he supposed to be rich?” Harry asks. “Why’d he send an Uber to get you?” He sounds a bit grumpy, really, but that’s probably because he stayed up late working on a job application for a managerial position at another chain restaurant, only to discover that it had been shuttered due to a rodent infestation two days after the job listing went up.

To be fair, it’s the kind of thing that would make anyone grumpy. After we wrap up the whole roommate thing, I really need to help Harry find a job that doesn’t suck.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, he is.”

Which is why I feel something shifting in my chest, as if a hand reached in there and is strumming my heartstrings. Zach could have sent me a private jet. He could have paid to have a horse and buggy drag me all the way to Highland Hills. But instead he went out of his way to find my good friend William and hire him for what’s sure to be the biggest fare he’ll have all month. Maybe all year. Most people don’t ask Uber drivers to take them on multiple-hour treks.

“I knew he had a heart,” I say softly, pulling my coat on over my long-sleeve maroon sweater dress, chosen partly for warmth, partly because the color looks good on me, and partly to piss off Simone. I’ve seen other signs of it too. It’s there in everything he says about Kennedy, Great-Aunt Edna, and Patricia. His friendship with his doorman, and how he’s started talking to his own driver about his life and family.

“Well, we all do, Tina. A person needs a heart to be alive.”

“Oh, shut up, you big bozo, and help me with my bag.”

He does, smiling a little, because even if he thinks I’m being an idiot, he still loves me. When we get outside, William makes a big production of greeting me, and it’s obvious Harry thinks it’s some kind of stalker situation until the third time I say “butterfingers.” Turns out it’s not the greatest code word to use while two people are trying to lift heavy bags into the rear of an SUV.

Harry and I hug, and he whispers, “Be careful. Remember what we talked about in the intervention,” and I roll my eyes and say I will, even though the only thing I really learned last night was that Damien’s about to star in what sounds like a spectacularly shitty play.

“Call me anytime, day or night,” he says.

“I’d say the same, except don’t. Seriously don’t.” I wink at him and give him a playful shove, but he stands there like a nervous father watching his daughter go off to prom.

I gasp as I get inside the car. My plastic crown from trivia night is waiting on the back seat, sitting on top of a note.

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