From Friend to Fake Fiancé

Jenna pasted on a smile and shrugged. “Sorry, Mom. I got caught up in the flower arrangements taking over my kitchen.”

Mary glanced around and Jenna knew what was coming next. Cringing, she waited.

“Where’s Mac?”

“He wasn’t feeling well.” The lie slid easily off her tongue. And it was that ease of lying to her mother’s face that had Jenna needing this farce to come to an end. “Let’s join the others.”

Jenna slid her arm through her mother’s and steered her toward the bonfire already in full swing. A beach party with music, laughter and what appeared to be enough food for a small village was exactly the distraction Jenna needed.

Spotting her, Martin immediately pulled one of the bridesmaids off to the side, no doubt to feed her some line of BS...poor girl. But if that meant he was leaving Jenna alone, who was she to complain?

It was a perfect evening. The warm breeze from the ocean felt amazing and a small band was playing some tropical tunes that blended romance and fun. Her sister had definitely gone all out with her budget, but Amy’s defense had been that she only planned on marrying once so she was going big.

“The fresh pineapple is heaven,” her mother commented. “You have to get a plate of food. Those kabobs with glazed chicken... I have no clue what the chef did, but I need that recipe.”

Jenna half listened as her mother discussed the varieties of food available. She really wasn’t in the mood to eat, wasn’t in the mood to party. She’d been hoping that once she got here she would perk up, but all she kept seeing was Mac’s face as he’d walked out of the bungalow. She’d hurt him. Knowing she even had that ability was crippling because she loved him. Loved the friend he always was, and was starting to love the man.

The shaky ground she walked on could crumble at any moment and where would that leave her? Falling face-first into a sea of humiliation and heartache.

“I’m actually not that hungry,” she told her mother as she took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, I want to find Amy and ask about the arrangements.”

“Of course, dear. She was talking with Nathan and the caterer right before you got here, but I don’t see her now.”

Jenna patted her mother’s arm. “I’ll find her. Go dance and have fun. You look beautiful tonight.”

Mary’s smile widened. “You’re sweet. Please, don’t feel you have to stay all evening. If Mac isn’t feeling well, go back to him.”

Go back to him. If he were actually hers, she never would have left his side.

“He’ll be fine,” Jenna assured her mom as she turned and headed in the other direction. At least she’d told her mom the truth. Mac would be fine. He was always fine.

But Jenna wondered where he’d gone. When he left he hadn’t taken his stuff, but she hadn’t seen him for several hours. Maybe he was waiting until she was gone to come get his things? She had no idea, but as soon as she got back, she was going to text him. She’d tried a few minutes ago and he hadn’t responded yet. She couldn’t handle this tension, the conflict she’d single-handedly placed between them.

Jenna smiled and said her hellos as she passed by the familiar faces from the wedding party. Amy’s best friend from college, her best friend from grade school and her husband. Everyone was here for a good time and Jenna wasn’t about to put a damper on her sister’s big moment. The pity party could come later, when Jenna was back in her bungalow alone with the pint of ice cream she’d requested from the kitchen.

Jenna didn’t care if sobbing into ice cream made her a cliché. She’d made her best friend pretend to be her lover and it had gone horribly wrong, so bring on the clichés and bring on the spoon because she was ready to dive into that container of Rocky Road.

“You look stunning tonight.”

Jenna jerked around to see Martin standing way too close for her comfort. How had he sneaked up on her? Oh, yeah, she’d been busy plotting her evening of gluttony.

She resisted the urge to adjust her halter-style dress. “I’m looking for Amy.”

Just as she turned to leave, Martin grabbed her arm. He didn’t squeeze or use force, but she didn’t want his hands on her.

Her eyes dropped to where he held her, then up to meet his gaze. “Let go.”

“I just want a minute to talk now that your goon isn’t around.” He let his hand fall back to his side. “Can you give me two minutes?”