Playboy Prince

"Well, uh… it's your nickname. At the office," I say. "I thought you knew?"

"Of course." He slices his toast. Takes a bite. "My idea."

"Really?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah. Complained about myself to some intern who mistook me for Simon. Thought it would annoy Simon."

"Did it work?" I ask.

"Fuck yeah. Everything annoys him." Liam looks to Preston. "You know how he is."

"I know how you are," Preston says.

"Busted," I say.

Liam shrugs so what if I am? "You still didn't tell him."

"Tell him what?" I ask.

"How I won you over." Liam's eyes meet mine. Fill with that trouble-making spark. He's closer to a hundred percent, but he isn't quite there. "I'd like to know myself."

"You didn't," I say. "We're not married yet."

"Fuck, still time to fail." He mimes being stabbed in the gut.

"It's all, uh… it's all sex." My cheeks flush. "At least, that was how it started."

Preston chuckles. "Say no more."

"Then he took me for drinks on the balcony, and he made me breakfast, and he tried to help me launch my business. He's annoying and bossy and difficult." I look into his blue eyes. "But he's sweet too."

"He hides it well," Preston says.

"I didn't want something serious. I tried it once, but I didn't like it. I was afraid of ending up like my mom." I swallow hard. "My parents are still together, but he isn't faithful to her. She pretends she doesn't notice. Or maybe she puts up with it for the money. Or for me and my sister. I don't know."

"I'm sorry," Preston says. "Ella and I had our issues, but we tried to keep them from Harrison."

His ex-wife. Harrison's mom. "I had to take care of my mom when my dad was MIA. And I had to take care of my sister when my mom locked herself in her bedroom to cry. She tried to hide it, but…" Fuck, this is way too much information. "I never wanted to get married. I'm still not sure. But when Liam took my hand and looked up at me—"

"And begged," Liam says.

"I saw something in his eyes," I say. "This need I wanted to fill. So I said yes, but I'm still not sure." I bite my tongue. This isn't proper fake fiancée talk.

But Preston nods with understanding. "Some people are like Liam. They only have two modes: zero and a hundred percent."

That is Liam.

Preston smiles. "I can tell he feels that way about you."

He can?

"It's not easy for everyone," he says. "It takes courage to admit that. To be honest."

"Honest. Yeah," I say. "I'm always honest with Liam."

"And I'm always honest with Briar." He says it with sincerity. He means it.

He's always honest with me.

I believe him. I shouldn't believe him—I'm helping him craft an elaborate lie, after all—but I do.

"It's mostly the sex though," I say.

Preston's laugh is big and hearty. "You are perfect for each other." Something calls his attention. A noise downstairs.

The door opening.

"Dad?" someone calls. Harrison, I guess.

"You're early." Preston pushes himself up. Slowly stands straight. "Liam and Briar are still here."

Harrison steps onto our floor. He surveys the room carefully.

He's a quiet guy. The type who keeps everything to himself. He's always kind and helpful, but that's all I really know about him.

He looks his father over. Checks the table. The floor. "Is everything all right?"

"Fuck yeah. You're exactly who I need to see." Liam jumps to his feet. "I have bachelor party questions. And you're not going to want to answer them in front of your dad."

No, no, no. I can't stay here with Preston on my own. I can't keep up this lie myself. "Liam—"

"We'll be ten minutes. That's it. We can pick up some mascarpone," he says.

"I don't want mascarpone."

"Then we'll go upstairs. Talk about girls in our sleeping bags like we used to." Liam pats Harrison on the back. "Ten minutes, okay?" He looks to me with a please in his eyes.

"Ten minutes." I can keep up a lie for ten minutes without his help.

Can't I?

Chapter Fourteen

Liam

"What are you doing here, Liam?" Harrison pulls out his desk chair. Motions for me to sit.

"You still have the shit here?" I ask.

"What shit?"

"Used to keep a bottle back in the bottom drawer." I motion to the dresser. "I finished it a few times."

"It's barely noon."

"And we're talking bachelor party," I say.

Harrison frowns exactly the way his father does. His eyes are lighter. His skin is darker. And he's not fading the way Preston is.

But he still looks so much like my memory of Preston. The guy who sat me down to tell me my father died.

It's fucking weird. Harrison looks like his dad. And he looks like himself. Like the guy who begged me to help him sneak out so we could go to a party and meet girls.

Not girls. A girl he liked.