Page 33 of Fall For Me
Peyton does a little hop, clapping her hands. “Oh, yay!”
I roll my eyes. “Great. I’m outnumbered.”
The moment I open the door, Lila barges in past me.
“Honey, I’m home!” she yells at no one in particular, shoving two heavy duffel bags into my chest as she makes a beeline for Peyton.
My best friend tackles my fake wife into a bear hug. “I finally have the sister I’ve always wanted,” Lila announces. “It’s so boring to deal with Rocky on his own. He broods all the time. It’s exhausting. I’m thrilled you’re sticking around, even if the pretend marriage plan is cuckoo bananas.”
“Thanks.” Peyton laughs, slightly breathless from the squeeze. “I think.”
Lila spins around, acknowledging my existence at last.
“Study,” she commands. “We need a whiteboard. And snacks. Do you have snacks? Never mind, I brought my favorites.” She pats one of the bags I’m holding.
I shift the duffels in my arms. “Make yourself at home,” I say flatly.
Lila ignores me, already steering Peyton down the hall.
The study is my favorite room in the house. It has the best view of the lake; it’s where I spend most of my time when I’m at home.
Lila walks in, dumps her purse on the desk, and points at me.
“Pants off.”
Peyton chokes on air.
“No.” I clutch the duffel bags like a shield.
“I need to change your bandage.”
“You can check it later. When we don’t have an audience.”
“Are you suddenly shy?” Lila bats her eyelashes at me. “Peyton has seen it all already.”
“I can wait in the other room,” she offers quickly.
Lila waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t be silly. You two have to pretend to be married. You need to get in character. Get comfortable seeing each other naked.”
“It’s not that kind of arrangement,” I say firmly.
“Then at least in various states of undress.” Lila plants her hands on her hips. “You can’t be blushing and stammering every time one of you changes clothes.” She points at the armchair. “Now, drop the church pants and sit before your wound gets more infected and you end up in the hospital, which would complicate your fake-marriage timeline.”
I look at Peyton. “You don’t have to stay.”
“Do you need help?” she asks Lila, ignoring me.
Lila’s eyes turn calculating. It’s the face she makes when she’s decided to meddle in my life.
“Yeah,” she says, too cheerfully. “I definitely do. Two sets of hands are better than one.”
I shove the duffel bags back at Lila. She catches them against her chest, unfazed.
“Cut it out,” I hiss, then, in a normal tone, I add, “I’ll be right back.”
I move into the home gym and change into a pair of basketball shorts that will leave Lila free to replace my bandage without compromising my dignity. At least I hope so as I lower myself into the armchair in front of the study’s fireplace.
Lila is waiting with surgical gloves on, the air smelling of hand sanitizer.
