Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
When they’re gone, Max and I look at each other, slack-jawed and astonished.
“Did that just happen?” Max says. “Please, pinch me and tell me I’m not dreaming.”
I pinch his muscular arm. “You’re not dreaming, Boo,” I say, laughing. “You did it. You’re going to work for your hero—and on his top team in Silicon Valley.”
Max palms his forehead. “I can’t believe it. Thank you, Marnie. Oh my fucking god. You did this.”
I throw my arms around Max’s neck and squeeze him tight as tears of joy—along with tears of sadness that Max will be moving away from Seattle—squirt out of my eyes and down my cheeks. “You deserve this,” I whisper into his neck. “Congratulations, honey.”
“They fell head over heels in love with you,” he says, holding me tight. “Without you, this never would have happened.” He leans back to look into my face, and when he sees me crying, his features melt. “Why are you crying?”
“They’re happy tears,” I insist. It’s not a lie, really, even if it’s only a partial truth.
“You’re crying happy tears for me?” he asks, like that’s a shocking thing to believe.
“Yes, for you. Who else?”
Max wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Marnie Long. I’m forever in your debt.”
My heart squeezes. Oh, how I’d love to hear Maximillian Vaughn saying the word “forever” to me in a totally different context. “You owe me nothing,” I whisper. “Being here and watching you achieve your longtime dream is more than enough payment of whatever debt you might think you have.”
Max winces. “I forgot to talk up your private chef services to them. Don’t worry, though, now that—"
“Don’t be silly. That wasn’t the time. Frankly, this whole week isn’t the time. Let’s drop that condition completely, okay?”
“A promise is a promise.”
“No. It’d be weird, at best, and insulting, at worst, for you to push my stupid little business after Wayne Walters has offered you a spot on his Dream Team.”
“It’s not a stupid little business. You’re incredibly talented. A legit genius.”
I wave at the air. “Please, let’s enjoy the rest of the week and be present and in the moment and not think about the plan, or our business goals, or anything but having fun. If I’d known how spectacular this place was going to be, I never would have made that stupid list of conditions.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. You’ve already helped me with my business beyond my wildest dreams.” I gasp. “Oh my gosh. I just realized something, Max. When you move to California to work alongside Mr. Walters, what if they invite us to dinner?”
“Shit.”
“I said I can work as a private chef anywhere. Mrs. Walters is so nice, I bet she’s already planning to hire me or refer me to her friends.”
“Fuck. You’re right. She’s nice like that.”
My breathing is shallow. “It never occurred to me before we got here the Walters might actually befriend Fake Max and Marnie. But now, given the incredible connection we’ve already formed with them, I think that’s a very real possibility.”
“So do I,” Max says. “Fuck. We really hit it off with them, didn’t we?”
“Well, Fake Max and Marnie did, anyway.”
“Fuck.” Max runs his hand through his hair. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. If they invite us to dinner in California, then I’ll fly you in for a command performance. You’d be willing to do that, right—spend a weekend in California for free and enjoy a great meal with me and an exceptionally nice couple?”
I wring my hands. “I don’t know, Max.”
He looks panicked. “What? Why?”
“Because I can’t promise I’ll be available to continue to be your fake fiancée for the rest of my fucking life, that’s why.”
“Well, duh. At some point, you’re going to become my fake wife.”
I glare at him. Is he fucking kidding me? “I don’t think so, Max. I’ve been straight with you about my relationship goals. I’m going to start looking for a serious boyfriend when we get back, remember? At some point, I’m hoping to have a fiancé—a real one—who then becomes my very real husband who actually wants to spend his life with Ripley and me. I won’t be able to fly off to California to play fake wife with you when I’m in a committed relationship with someone else.”
Max looks shell-shocked. He mutters, “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
What the hell? Did he think I’d come home from camp and then sit around waiting for him to start feeling for me what I’m feeling for him? If so, Max can fuck right off with that idea. When I get home, I’m first going to throw myself a brief, but necessary, pity party about Max not wanting me the way I want him. But after that, even if I’m still in love with Max, I’m going to move on. I’ll upload profiles onto all the best dating apps, including that one for celebrities. I’ll ask all my friends and clients to set me up with every eligible bachelor they know. I’ll pursue what I want and not settle for less because that’s what I fucking deserve, even if it breaks my heart in the short-term to do it.