Mom comes in, her full-circle, knee-length skirt swooshing as she walks to Dad’s side. “Hey, boys, enjoying a last-minute scotch?”

  I hold mine up in answer. Mom perches on the arm of Dad’s chair, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. If they weren’t my parents, they’d be an adorable couple people would aspire to emulate—wealthy, attractive, intelligent, and one hundred percent in love. Sickeningly in love. To the point that we know not to drop by unannounced or walk into any room without making an obvious noise first.

  I learned that the hard way.

  “Not as much as I’m enjoying you,” Dad growls, gripping Mom’s hip. She pushes her blonde hair behind her ear, giggling.

  “Could you not?” There’s only so much staring at my glass of scotch I can do.

  “You should be so lucky to be this gross when you’re our age,” Dad taunts.

  The doorbell rings, and I’m saved by the bell, literally. Setting my scotch on the table, I bolt for the door. “I’ll get it!”

  One of the staff will already be on standby to open the door as people arrive, but I’m taking the opportunity to get away from parents who are likely gearing up for a pre-dinner make-out session.

  Walking into the foyer, Grace sees me and shouts, “Uncle CJ!” She runs at me with both arms outstretched, and I bend down to do our usual pick up-and-spin greeting. “Wheeee!” Her squeal echoes in the high-ceilinged space.

  “Put her down, Carter. I don’t want her to get riled up before she’s got to be on her best behavior.” Cameron says the last part to Grace, likely reminding her about the conversation they had in the car about manners for a family dinner with a guest.

  I let Grace’s feet touch the floor as she tells Cameron, “I know, Dad. I’ll be the bestest ever. I always am, you know that.” She’s nodding her head up and down with surety, but I could name at least a handful of people who’d disagree with that.

  “You ready to see Elena again?”

  Grace screws up her lips, tilting her head. “D’pends. Are we having shark coochie again?”

  I glance to Cameron, who’s wearing a smile that matches my own. Both of us are fighting laughter. “Not tonight, Gracie girl. Maybe another time.”

  “Promise?” She holds out her pinkie finger expectantly.

  I wrap my finger around hers. “Promise.”

  “With tiny cookies,” she amends.

  I nod. “Circus cookies. I know your favorite.”

  Grace pulls me into the sitting room, and Cameron follows closely behind. But Grace quickly abandons us for her collection of Barbies that fills a basket in the corner.

  “How much shit is Dad giving you about this whole Cartwright deal?” Cameron says low enough for Grace to not hear.

  “Not as much as he’s going to,” I mutter cryptically. “Have my back?”

  “Always.” I’ll give it to Cam. He might give me shit, and I give it right back. But if I had to go into a life or death knife fight with anyone on the planet, I know who I’d pick to be by my side. No matter how much we bicker and compete, at the end of the day, Cam’s my ride or die.

  We watch Grace playing for a moment, and then she yanks us down by our hands to sit at her kid-sized table. “You, be Princess Pony. And you, be Dino Dylan. He’s Barbie’s boyfriend.” She shoves figurines into our hands, and though Cameron and I are equally annoyed, we play along.

  “Remember when we used to pop firecrackers in back, behind Mom’s garden? How’d we end up playing Barbies?” Cameron groans.

  “You had me,” Grace answers flatly, seemingly not listening but as usual, hearing everything.

  The front door opens again, and Kayla and Chance appear. Though Kayla is Cole’s twin, she’s more likely to be with Chance at any given time. They’re perpetual sidekicks. I’d call them partners in crime, but Chance wouldn’t consider speeding, much less any actual crime, and Kayla pretty much does whatever the fuck she wants. Usually, we don’t even know what she’s up to because she holds her cards close to the vest until it serves her to lay them out for show. I should’ve taken a play from her rule book with this whole Cartwright deal.

  Though this is our parents’ home, I turn into the host of this shindig. “Hey, y’all! Thanks for coming!”

  Chance looks at me like I sprouted a second—or third—head. “Dad said there was a dinner. We’re expected to be here, so here we are.”

  He holds his hands out, sounding slightly annoyed at Dad’s non-invitation, but there’s no way he’d go against the old man. I get it, Dad’s done this to all of us at one time or another.

  Kayla rolls her eyes at Chance’s good soldier response. To me, she says, “It’s Dad’s dinner, but it’s your deal. We gotchur back, Carter. Whatever you need.”

  Like Cam, I’m glad to know that Kayla’s here for me. And it helps that she calls it my deal.

  “I’m gonna hold you to that,” I warn.

  Kayla gives me a slightly confused, slightly questioning eyebrow but says nothing as she sits down in another kid-sized chair at Grace’s table. Picking up a Mandalorian figurine, she deadpans, “Play or play not, no try.”

  Grace laughs and joins in with Kayla, but not before gesturing to Cameron and me to return to our roles and handing Chance a tree.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks. Cameron glares at him, silently telling him to figure it out and not fuck around with Gracie. Minutes later, we’re at Grace’s mercy as she directs us in a scene of her making. At least I’ve got a chair to sit in. Chance is kneeling on the floor, dancing his tree across the table and singing a song about the parts of a tree to the tune of Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.

  But the show really begins for me when Elena and Claire are shown in. Grace pipes up immediately, “Elena!”

  She runs to the woman, hugging her around her middle. Elena’s charmed and hugs her back just as tightly. “Well, hello, sweet Grace. How’re you doing, darling?”

  “Good. You wanna play Barbies?”

  Cameron interrupts, “Grace, I think Mrs. Cartwright has better things to do right now.”

  While I’m not so sure of that, we all rise, thankful to be released from Barbie hell.

  Grace’s face falls, her bottom lip poking out. Elena bends down a little to stage whisper, “You’d best pop that lip back in. He’s wrong, I don’t have anything better to do, but I have to play adult right now instead of Barbies. So annoying.”

  Grace laughs. “Playing adult sounds boring.”

  “It is sometimes,” Elena agrees.

  Switching gears from fun uncle to business, I hold my hand out to Elena for an easy shake and then to Claire, who shakes it reluctantly. “I wasn’t expecting you. Thank you for coming.”

  Through gritted teeth, she says, “Stanley said you’d called and invited Aunt Elena to some dinner.” She flashes her fingers around like this dinner party is a waste of time.

  “Damn, Stanley really needs a life of his own, doesn’t he?” I joke.

  “He looks out for Aunt Elena,” Claire says stonily. “He always has.”

  Okay. Elena was definitely fond of Stanley, but he’s sounding a bit stalkerish if you ask me. I introduce Elena and Claire to my brothers and sister, and then, as they come in, to Mom and Dad. “Elena, this is my mother, Miranda, and my father, Charles. Mom, Dad . . . this is Elena Cartwright and Claire Reynolds.”

  Mom is in full hostess with the mostest mode, a role she’s especially good at. She’s done this song and dance enough times over the years for Dad’s various business partners that she could probably pull this off in her sleep. She can make anyone feel like the guest of honor.

  “It’s so good to meet you, Elena,” Dad says, his blue eyes twinkling. “I hear lovely things about you from Carter.”

  They keep talking, with Dad layering on charm, compliments, and Southern hospitality like Elena’s a Sunday supper peach cobbler that needs ice cream and whipped cream, plus a sprinkle of pecans. And for all Elena’s request for nothing fancy, she’s eating up Mom and Dad’s attention like they’re long-lost friends catching up on a lifetime of happenings.

  Meanwhile, Claire stands by, silently scowling. I consider talking with her? Sort of like ‘if you want the girl, be nice to the best friend’ advice that I learned back in my high school days . . . except this involves money and not pussy. But Claire doesn’t seem open to any conversation and is listening to Elena as though she might spill family secrets at any moment.

  “Why do you keep looking at the door?” Kayla whispers out of the side of her mouth while Dad is holding court.

  “What?” I ask quickly. “No, I’m not.”

  I was totally looking for Luna. I’m worried because she’s late. I told her to be here a few minutes after the scheduled arrival time, but it’s several minutes past that now. It’s entirely possible that she got caught up in her work again and won’t realize that she’s late until hours from now. It’s also possible that she changed her mind and will no-show on me.

  But though those options are reasonable, there’s a seed of worry too. She planned to drive herself out since I needed to be here early. What if she had car trouble? Or got in an accident?

  The concern for her takes over, and I can feel my heart speed up. I should call her. Just to check if she’s okay. And on her way.

  I need her.

  Kayla places her hand on my shoulder. “Dude, where’d your brain go? Are you having a panic attack? Go in the hall and put your head between your knees or something.”

  “What? No, I’m fine. I’m just . . .”

  What? Freaking out that my fake wife isn’t here?

  “You’re not. No need to lie to me.”

  There’s a saying my grandmother used to tell us—that some men were all hat and no saddle. It meant that a man was all about show and not about the real deal. Kayla is the opposite—all saddle and no hat. She has no time for niceties and white lies. She would despise what I’m doing with Luna.

  But she also doesn’t want me to tell her false pleasantries when I’m clearly not okay.

  “I’m worried,” I confess, not divulging why.

  “You should be.” She points at Dad and Elena, who are acting like best buds. “Dad’s stealing your deal and you’re over here letting him. Go get your client, man.”

  She’s right. She always is. “Thanks.”

  Mission renewed, I interrupt them as Dad starts on the story of how he turned a dilapidated boat into a million dollars. “Elena, is Dad telling you war stories about his days in the trenches of corporate life? He’s got some whoppers.”

  “No, but I’d love to hear them. I can see where you get your charm from, young man.” Elena smiles warmly. “And your good looks.”

  She looks to Mom, even though I’m basically a cut n’ paste of Dad. Small talk is an annoying but necessary fact of life, and I launch in with her, talking about piddly nothings for a bit while still watching the door like a hawk.

  But eventually, I hear the front door open and nearly run toward it with palpable relief. That lasts for all of two seconds until Luna appears in the sitting room doorway . . . on the arm of my brother, Cole.

  He’s wearing black jeans, a white button-up that’s undone at the neck, sunglasses pushed up on his head, and a stack of bracelets on each wrist where his sleeves are rolled up. Luna has on a pretty black dress that’s relatively basic except that in its plainness, it makes her whiplash curves all that much more standout.

  For all intents and purposes, they look like a couple arriving for dinner. Which is definitely not the plan.

  “Luna.” It’s a bit sharp, but I don’t like seeing her hand in the crook of my brother’s elbow.

  She looks at me and then at the assembly of people. I can see the color drain from her face and the nerves rising as she bites her lip. “Uhm, hi!”

  Her voice is bright and high with nervousness. I walk right up in front of her, and her hand falls from Cole’s elbow and to her side as she looks up at me, eyes wide with panic and mouth dropped open.

  “Hey, babe. I was worried about you.” And then, right there in front of my family, I kiss Luna like I own her. Like she owns me—body, heart, and soul. It’s quick but impactful. My family holds their collective breath.

  “Oh, y’all are just the cutest things ever,” Elena says, echoing her earlier sentiments about Luna and me. “When you get done saying hello over there, I need a hug, ma’am.”

  Luna laughs, and when she moves to hug Elena and exchange pleasantries, Cole’s eyes are the first I see. The questions there are big, but him I can ignore. When I turn around, Mom and Dad are looking at me in shock. That I can’t ignore.

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  LUNA

  A few moments ago . . .

  I’m standing on the steps of Carter’s family house. It’s huge and fancy, but that’s not why I’m frozen like a statue outside, muttering to myself.

  No, I’m frozen because on the other side of this door is the biggest lie I’ve ever told and the scariest thing I’ve ever contemplated doing. I hate crowds, hate meeting new people, hate knowing that I’m going to be judged as a ‘weird artist’. It’s why I stick to my small group of people. Carter’s already forcing me to grow for this fake marriage thing, but at least the nerves over dinner with Elena were balanced out with the excitement of seeing her art collection.

  Here, there’s none of that. This is just pure, unadulterated fear shooting through my veins.

  “You going in?” a voice asks from behind me. I didn’t hear anyone approach, so I jump a bit, which is met with a male chuckle. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I force a smile, starting my role a moment before I’d planned. “It’s okay . . . Cole.” I recognize him from the pictures Carter showed me, but even if I hadn’t seen a single photo, I’d know this man is a Harrington. They mostly look alike, almost copy-paste versions of their dad. Well, other than Kyle, but Carter assured me that he wouldn’t be here even though they invite him. ‘Family drama’, he called it.

  Cole’s brow scrunches as he looks at me more closely. “Have we met?”

  “Oh, I’m Luna. I’m Carter’s . . .” I pause, not sure if I should say wife. Part of Carter’s plan is that there will be a bit of mob mentality when his entire family is around us, and they won’t question us with an audience. But out here, it’s only me and Cole, and I know introducing myself as Carter’s wife will definitely lead to questions I can’t answer. I lick my lips and repeat with more resoluteness, “I’m Carter’s.”

  Humor lights up Cole’s eyes, and he holds out his elbow politely. “Well, alright then. Looks like I’m gonna be glad I didn’t skip this family shindig after all. Shall we go in, Luna?”

  I take his elbow gently and let him lead me inside. Truthfully, it’s kinda nice to not walk in alone. Right up until Carter barks at me, “Luna!”

  I think I wave stupidly. Or maybe I say something? I’m not sure because I’m lost in Carter’s blue-eyed, stony stare as he strides over to me, a man on a mission. I watch his lips move, but my ears are full of staticky noise, so I don’t hear what he says. I’m on short circuit until Carter kisses me.

  I swear he must’ve taken a class or something because every time his lips meet mine, it’s like my brain cells go into a frenzied chorus of ‘ahhhhh’ and hip-humping horniness that basically makes them ping off the inside of my skull.

  When he lets me go—which might be a second later or might be an hour, I truly don’t know—he pushes me toward Elena. At least she’s a friendly face and has her arms outstretched, so I know what to do. I hug her as she tells me how good it is to see me again.

  Now it’s up to me.

  My eyes tick around Carter’s family, recognizing them from his descriptions and the photos he showed me. I mentally flip notecards in my head in an attempt to keep from freaking out because almost all of them are looking at me or Carter with shock, horror, or some mix of the two, and being the center of attention is one of my most common nightmares.

  Absently, I rub my hands on my thighs, the smooth dress fabric reassuring me that at least I’m not naked in this version of the nightmare.

  What would Alphena do? W-W-A-D?

  I start with the easiest of the bunch, bending down to Grace.

  “Gracie, Gracie, Bo Bacie,” I sing-song to Grace as we do the complicated routine of high-fives that we choreographed in the car on the ride home from Elena’s.

  She laughs before finishing, “Little Luna foo-foo, hopping through the forest.”

  We do bunny ear fingers and then wiggle them against each other. It makes no sense to an adult, but it works for us. I look up to Cameron and smile. He seems stunned, probably at both my appearance and the song and dance with his daughter, but he fixes his face quickly. “Hello,” he says politely.

  I swear he mutters under his breath, “Loo-na and El-a-na? I thought she was saying the same name, just misspeaking sometimes.”

  He thought Luna and Elena sound alike? That’s kinda funny. But nothing else about this meet-and-greet is.

  Next, I smile at Kayla. “Hey, Kayla,” I say, side-hugging her in greeting.

  To her credit, she hugs me right back the way Carter said she would. “I’m gonna need answers from someone later,” she speed-whispers in my ear.

  Counting my greeting with Cole as I was walking in, I’m three for three with the siblings without hyperventilating. My internal Alphena is doing a little badass comic book cheer.

  I wave at Chance, who Carter warned me would be a hard sell and a poor reaction and someone to avoid. Then it’s time to focus on the big bad in the room. “Hi Mom, Dad. So good to see you.”

  Charles Harrington looks at me carefully, his eyes scanning mine. I catch Miranda looking past me to Carter. There’s a moment of horrid anticipation where I think my stomach contents might come right up and spill on their shoes and the very expensive rug beneath them. And considering I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch today because of nerves, that would not be a pretty sight.

  Miranda must see something in Carter’s face because she reacts first.