Not...whatever the fuck this was.
Alex had changed his ticket, then somehow, he’d miraculously managed to upgrade both of them to first class.
By doing so, he’d ensured they didn’t have to talk to Bella on the flight home. She and Josh had been in business class, and Charley could almost imagine her best friend burning a hole through the curtain that separated the two cabins, dying to know what had happened between Charley and her brother last night.
She and Alex had stayed in bed way too long this morning, which meant they were the last two to board the plane before the doors closed. She’d caught just a glimpse of Bella before they took their seats and the flight attendant instructed them to fasten their seat belts for takeoff.
Charley had hoped to use the flight time to nail down a few of the fuzzier details of Alex’s bizarre demands, but the fucker had ordered them both cocktails—hair of the dog and all that—and fifteen minutes later, she’d fallen sound asleep until the plane landed in Wisconsin.
Alex had them off the plane and their luggage claimed before Bella could catch up to them.
No doubt, he was as anxious to avoid his sister as she was.
That point was proven as they climbed into her car and his phone buzzed, for the tenth time since they landed. He’d looked at the screen the first couple of times. Now he didn’t even bother to take his cell out of his pocket.
Then Charley’s phone buzzed.
Nope.
Not looking.
What the hell was she going to say to Bella?
How could she tell her best friend she’d gotten tequila-wasted and married Bella’s brother on a lark?
As they pulled out of the airport parking lot, Alex turned to her. “So where do we live, Mrs. Stone?”
Charley flashed him a dirty look. “It’s still Ms. Matthews. And I have an apartment on Hamilton Drive. Your parents—and your room—are still on Hollingsworth Street.”
He chuckled as if she’d made a joke. “I’m not staying with my parents this trip, wifey. It’s our honeymoon, remember?”
“I thought you were coming back to Wisconsin to see your family.”
“I’m sure we’ll see them quite a bit this week.”
Okay.
It was clearly time they hammered out some of the details of this so-called honeymoon.
“We?”
“You and me,” he said, as if that explained it all.
“I see your parents all the time. I still live here, remember? What I’m asking is…how are we both going to see them this time? As old friends or…”
Fuck.
She didn’t even know how to say the words.
After all, the words married couple when spoken in relation to her and Alex felt like a completely foreign concept.
One that also felt entirely too good.
“You want to know if we’re telling people we got married?”
Charley started to nod, then shook her head.
No.
That wasn’t her question.
Ever since they’d woken up this morning, Alex had made a lot of demands. And while she hadn’t had a problem with him demanding that she come that third time, Charley decided it was high time she issued a few demands of her own.
“No. That’s not what I’m asking. Because we’re not telling them that.”
Alex looked as if he wanted to argue that point with her, but she wasn’t about to budge.
“I mean it. If you want to stay with me, cool. I honestly don’t give a shit if people think we hooked up in Vegas and decided to keep the affair going, but there’s no way I’m telling our family and friends we got married.”
“Charley,” he started.
“I’m not debating this. For one thing, even if we said it was just a joke, our mothers would ignore that fact, lose their minds, demand we plan some big-ass party to celebrate, and nag us to start having babies right away. Your mom might be a grandmother already, but I’m an only child and my mother’s grand-maternal instincts are very, very strong. They’re banked at the moment, but I promise you, you do not want to trigger them.”
Alex feigned a wince. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“And that’s only one of the reasons. I’ve been single one red-hot minute. Ben dumped me for Beverly and everybody in town knows it. While everyone will joke and kid with you about the impromptu, drunken elopement, saying ‘guys will be guys’ and all that bullshit, you better believe they’ll be looking at me differently, and I’m not about to have everyone start calling me Poor Charley, the girl who got dumped twice in one week.”
“Charley—”
She wasn’t finished. “And another thing, there’s no ‘eventually’ to the end of this mist…thing.” She stopped herself just before calling it a mistake, recalling Alex’s earlier threat. “At the most, we’re doing the week here in Wisconsin and the week in Baltimore. After that, we sign whatever papers your lawyer draws up to set things in motion on the annulment. Our little secret. Forever.”
“What do you mean ‘at the most’?”
“I mean…” She stumbled.
She didn’t want to say what she meant.
Because saying it would pretty much guarantee the whole thing would end here.
Spending another two weeks with Alex was certain to wreck her.
One night in, and she was pretty overwhelmed by all the feelings he was sparking in her. She wanted to chalk it up to rebound sex, but the truth was…she’d been half in love with Alex before he even knocked on her hotel door.
It was crazy, but after three years, Ben had done little more than wound her pride.
She didn’t doubt for a second that two weeks with Alex would completely shatter her heart.
And while confessing that to the commitment-phobe Alex was probably the wiser course of action—because he’d definitely run for the hills—she wasn’t ready to give him up yet.
Alex might not have a clue how to fall in love, but Charley had no problem in that area.
So instead, she lied.
“I’m just saying…if we get bored before then, we’ll call it quits earlier. You can take one of your Barbie dolls to the charity event.”
He didn’t reply immediately, and for a second, she was afraid he was going to press her on her answer. It was pretty clear he didn’t believe the “get bored” excuse.
“You done?” he asked.
She caught a glimpse of his grin and rolled her eyes, perfectly aware that she’d been ranting a bit.
“Yeah. I’m done.”
“Fine,” he said. “I agree. We’ll let everyone believe we’re just hooking up. We won’t tell them about eloping.”
“Thanks.”
They were quiet for a few minutes, then they hit the outskirts of town and the conversation became a walk down memory lane as they recalled spending Friday nights after the high school football games at Frenchie’s, the ice cream parlor they’d just driven past.
Then they rehashed their finest moments on the ice, both of them marveling at the improvements that had been made to Max’s Ice Rink, thanks, of course, to some very generous donations from Alex.
“Here we are,” she said, pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex.