My Super-Hot Fake Wedding Date

We both knew I was lying.

Much to my horror, my mother was pacing my room when I went inside. “Madison, a word.”

“Are you drunk, Mom?”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare speak like that to me, young lady!”

“Um, I can’t ask if you’re drunk, but you can ask my date if he’s planning on proposing after seeing the house?”

Aileen rolled her eyes, a signature move beneath her newly applied eyelash extensions. “I have to ask you and your sister’s suitors that. Well, not Tim of course. He has more money than God. But this Bob fellow, with his big forearms and thick hair—he’s a different story. How much do you know about him, Madison?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Enough. He’s a very nice guy. That’s the most important thing.”

She snorted. “He’s a pauper.”

I sighed. “He’s not after our money, Mother. Bob isn’t wealthy like we are, it’s true. But that doesn’t make him a ‘hanger-on’ or whatever ridiculous thing you accused him of.”

She arched an eyebrow. “He drives a delivery truck. I just had Pryce Google his annual salary. You know what it is, right? It wouldn’t even pay your property taxes.”

I gave her an icy smile. “Mom, I can pay my own property taxes, thank you very much. I don’t need Bob’s money, or yours for that matter.”

“Ha! You’ll want my money someday, when I’m gone.” She smoothed her hair. “You should be nicer, Maddy. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Aileen loved to hang her money over my head. Someday, when she died, her estate would make me one of the wealthiest women in the country. But there was always the caveat that if I didn’t do what she wanted, the vast riches would disappear.

“I don’t really care about all that money.” It was true.

“Think of all the good you could do with it, though,” Aileen expertly wheedled. “You know your sister will just buy a chateau and forget all about the people who are suffering all over the world. I’m counting on you to carry on our philanthropic work. But only if you’re settled, with a family. I can’t trust you to manage everything if you’re only focused on your career. You won’t give our foundations the attention they deserve.”

My stomach dropped. That was where she got me every time. My mother was terrible a lot of the time, but she and my father gave away a fortune every year to charity. That was her hold over me, the sword of Damocles she loved to dangle. Because she was right—Sienna preferred to spend all of her time partying, attending fashion shows, and relentlessly shopping. She would go to a charity ball, but she would never be caught dead organizing one. Her favorite charity was her own walk-in closet. That left little old me, who was supposed to get married, have babies to carry on the empire, and organize fundraising luncheons for the rest of my life for the right kinds of people.

My mother shrugged an elegant shoulder. “Do you know I’m actually enjoying this? It means so much to me that you care.”

I blinked at her. “Huh?”

“Bringing a date this weekend!” She shook her head, her choppy blond locks swaying. “I know you aren’t interested in a man like that. You didn’t have to pretend, sweetheart, but it was kind of you to put on a show. It makes me feel special that you care enough to feel like you have to lie.”

“I’m not lying. Bob is my boyfriend.”

She laughed. “Maddy, there’s only one thing to be done with a man like that.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of Bob’s bedroom. “And you wouldn’t know how to do it if you tried.”

I opened the door and motioned for her to get out. “You know what, Mother? I think you’re getting worse in your old age. I didn’t think it was possible, but maybe all that Juvéderm and Botox leaked into your brain. Or maybe it’s the vodka. It doesn’t matter. You’ve gone off the deep end.”

“Darling, I have to go—and not off the deep end. So many things to do.” Completely unruffled, she air-kissed in my direction. “It’s been fun catching up. Thanks again for bringing Bob. Honestly, Mommy didn’t know you cared!” She breezed out, her gray cashmere caftan trailing behind her.

I slammed my door then slid down the wall and sat on the floor. I did yoga breathing. I meditated

for five full minutes. Nothing helped.

There’s only one thing to be done with a man like that. You wouldn’t know how to do it if you tried!

I couldn’t get my mother’s words out of my head. Ugh…was my alcoholic, Catholic, cougar of a mother right about me?

I’ll show her. At least, I’ll pretend-show her. I went to Bob’s door and knocked. “Hey, Bob?”

“Yeah?” He opened the door, smiling.

“I need you to have pretend sex with me. Loud pretend sex. Now.”