Page 161 of The Faking Game
And so the game begins.
CHAPTER46
WEST
“I can’t believe you won,” Rafe says.
Nora doesn’t look bothered by her brother’s incredulity or that it’s the third time he’s said it. She just keeps rolling her luggage through the airport and shrugs. “I’m going to send you guys on the worst trips. I already have a few ideas.”
“This might be a good time to remind you that I’m your favorite,” Alex says. He’s about to head along with James and Rafe on Rafe’s plane back to Europe. They’ll stop in London before he flies back to Paris.
And he’snother favorite.
But I don’t say anything. Swallow the annoyance that’s been buzzing inside me this whole trip—at having to fakenotbeing with her and pretend that she’s still my best friend’s little sister and nothing more.
That she hasn’t upended my world.
James puts a hand on my arm when we’re in the hangar, waiting to board. Nods toward the array of drinks and snacks in the private lounge.
I walk with him. “Yeah?”
“I saw you.” He makes himself a gin and tonic with cold precision. “Coming out of her room yesterday morning.”
My teeth grind together. “James…”
“We’ve done a lot of idiotic things together,” he says. “But of all the things…?”
“I know.” A glance over my shoulder shows Alex, Rafe and Nora chatting half a room away.
“This is going to end badly.”
“I know that.”
“That’s why she doesn’t know you need to be married?” He lifts the glass to his lips. He’s as put together as always, if not for the circles under his eyes. The man never sleeps.
“I’m handling it.”
“You’re not, though,” he says calmly. He glances over at Rafe and then back at me. “Is she in love with you?”
“No. She wants relationship practice, and she wants true love one day. A real relationship.Nota marriage of convenience.” I pour myself a knuckle’s worth of scotch. It’s too early, and we were up too late, and I want to get far away from this conversation.
James looks at me, his steel-gray eyes seeing more than I want him to. “I hope you’re right,” he says. “For all of our sakes.”
We join the others and head down to the tarmac. The planes are parked next to one another. James’s aviation manufacturer is one of Britain’s oldest and finest, and he oversaw the building of both of ours.
Nora and I say goodbye to the others and board my plane. She looks tired and tan and gives me a happy smile after she settles into her seat.
“I can’t wait to go home,” she says.
Home.
She means my home. She means Fairhaven, and damn if it’s not an arrow straight through me.
“You did really well this trip.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She buckles her seat belt. “I can’t believe I won.”
“I can.”
