Love Me Like You Mean It: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Love Me Romcom Series Book 2) Read online

  “He’s booked our honeymoon in Bora Bora. We’re going to plant trees there and rescue pandas.”

  “There’s pandas in Bora Bora?” Katie asks with her face twisting. I finish my drink.

  “Yes, there’s pandas in Bora Bora,” I say with a laugh, as if she’s the most foolish person on the planet to even ask the question. “They’re extinct though, it’s tragic really. That’s why we want to help.”

  A stunned silence follows, and I cough as the back of my throat burns.

  “What did you put in this, vodka?” I say with a giggle, raising my empty glass.

  Katie’s brows lift. “It’s just orange juice.”

  I glance at the women; their glasses are frozen in mid-air and they’re all staring at me like I’ve just declared the Earth is flat.

  “Right. It’s got a bit of a kick,” I say in a raspy voice, handing her the glass.

  “When are you getting married?” Shelly asks, then takes a sip of her untouched drink.

  “April eleventh,” I blurt. It’s first date that springs to mind. Shelly splutters and gags as the ladies gasp and twitter to each other with excitement. It’s not the reaction I expect, maybe her orange juice is strong too.

  “I’m getting married on April eleventh too! What a coincidence.”

  I mirror her excited face and we both squeal, I’m 100% sure we’re both faking it now.

  “Well, I guess you can’t make it to my wedding then,” I say with a shrug.

  A wave of giggles follows, and I take the opportunity to give Katie a pointed look.

  “Wow, is that the time? We need to get you out of this dress, don’t you have a date?” she says, tugging on my elbow. I tap my forehead, exaggerating my movements as I edge away.

  “Yes. Time ran away with me. It was great to see you again, Shelly. Good luck with the wedding!”

  “You too, Emma. So thrilled we both got our happy endings.”

  The words sit on my chest like an anvil as I dash into the changing room and hide.

  Chapter 3

  How is it possible for a little white lie spiral so much? I’ve no idea where the pandas in Bora Bora came from. I shake my head with a cringe as I fumble with the keys in my door.

  At least I can hide in my apartment and pretend that I’d been asleep all day and none of these crazy events ever happened. The door clicks and swings open, and I stare open-mouthed at the helium balloons filling my whole apartment.

  “Surprise! Happy Birthday Emma.”

  My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach and a sickly sense of nausea rises to my chest as I scan the faces in my apartment. A picture of my own face grins at me from the world’s largest cake, as it’s thrust under my nose. The candles illuminate the soft grey eyes of my techy neighbor, who seems to read me like a book. His expression transforms from excitement to sheer horror. It’s as if he just found out the exact day and time of his own death. Which will be soon, if I find out he planned this party.

  I’m always saying I love surprises and I may have had one too many late-night rants to my friends about how only people on TV get surprise birthday parties.

  But today? I just want to hide.

  “Do you want me to get rid of them?” he whispers. The room is still clapping; somebody blows a horn.

  “If you want to live,” I reply acidly. I don’t mean to sound cold, and my stomach pangs at the hurt in his eyes. But it’s been a day. The last thing I need now is the responsibility of pretending I’m absolutely fine while I entertain a room full of people all evening.

  “There’s our baby girl; thirty already. Where have the years gone?”

  I stiffen at the sound of my mother’s voice and swivel on the spot, plastering my best smile on my face.

  Who called my parents?

  “Mom. Dad. It’s great to see you.” They pull me in for a hug and the familiar scent of home baked cookies flood my senses. Mom is always baking. The smell unknots my stomach for a moment and the sudden urge to break into tears crashes over me like a tidal wave.

  “How did the pitch go?” Dad asks. I can’t look him in the eye. Seeing his happy expression turn into disappointment will be too much for me to keep the emotions at bay.

  Katie walks in through the open doorway and her mouth hangs open in shock as her eyes take in the scene.

  She’s just as surprised as I am.

  “Aiden, can I talk to you for a second?” She tugs on the elbow of my techy neighbor, her face colorless and eyes like saucers. I turn my attention back to my mother, who is speaking at full speed.

  “I know you didn’t want us to make a fuss this year, but this is a big birthday, and when Aiden called, we thought…”

  Aiden. AKA soon-to-be dead techy neighbor.

  I go to shoot him a look, but he and Katie are gone.

  “It’s great to see you have so many friends,” Dad says, looking at the room full of people. I resist the urge to laugh. These are not my friends. They’re barely acquaintances who live in the building. Though I’m surprised everyone has decided to show up. Even Miss. Yoga Pants. Aiden probably bribed them all to come.

  I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. The words bubble in the back of my throat and my eyes start to burn.

  “Is everything alright?” My mother’s senses are on point. Her hazel eyes reflect my own, and narrow as they take in my appearance. She probably noticed the chocolate stain on my shirt––from the pity party I had at the donut café on the way home.

  Why didn’t I put on waterproof mascara today? I can sense the big drops of tears threatening to fall, sending a trail of black down my cheeks at any moment.

  “I’m fine,” I say in a high-pitched voice. My throat is so tight; I sound like a strangled cat. But before she can press me further, the most ear-splitting alarm breaks our conversation.

  “Oh dear, that’s the fire drill. We better get out of here,” Aiden announces from the doorway. He’s a terrible liar. His forehead is red and shiny, and his eyes look far too shifty to look convincing.

  But nobody questions him. Within seconds, the apartment is emptied as a stampede of strangers race for the door.

  Everyone but my parents however, who do not move but frown at Aiden instead.

  “That’s not the fire drill,” my dad says frankly. He’s not going to be fooled, not with him being a fire fighter and all. Aiden’s face flushes red as he pulls out his smart phone. With a tap, the squealing stops.

  “I’ve made a grave error in judgment,” Aiden says in his deep, gravelly voice. Katie throws the door shut and bolts it, just in case anyone thinks about trying to come back in.

  My mom throws her hands up in exasperation. “Can somebody please tell me what’s going on here?” I exchange looks with Katie, who gives me the look. The one that says are-you-going-to-tell-them-or-am-I? With a deep breath, I turn to my parents.

  “It was a disaster. They hated my design, and I got fired.” The words tumble out of me so fast it throws me off balance and the next thing I know, my face is buried in my dad’s shoulder. My mom wraps her arms around me, and it takes every ounce of my resolve not to let my knees buckle and break down in tears.

  So much for turning thirty. I’m terrible at adulting.

  My parents pat my back and shush me like I’m a three-year-old who has just scraped her knee in the playground.

  “We’re so sorry baby, we all know how much this job meant to you,” my mom says soothingly as she strokes my hair. I can’t remember the last time she’s done that. I get a handle on my emotions and step back with a sniff. Aiden and Katie stand frozen by the front door, looking equally awkward.

  A weighted silence follows as I avoid their awkward stares. Breaking down to my parents, in front of my friends, on my birthday, is a new low for me. But the truth is out there, and the weight on my chest lifts just enough for me to catch my breath.

  Just then, a phone vibrates. I look up and catch Katie glancing at her screen. Her eyes nearly pop out of t
heir sockets before she stuffs it back in her pocket.

  “Do you want to come home with us? I’ve got your room all set whenever you’re ready.”

  My mom would love that. She’s been hoping and praying that my life in the city wouldn’t work out so I can return home with my tail between my legs.

  “Well baby, it’s their loss. I for one, think the Snooze shoes are a fantastic concept.”

  “It’s Schnooze, dad, but thanks,” I say glumly.

  A phone pings. This time it’s Aiden’s turn to look at his screen and react. His eyes land on me and he looks at me like he’s staring at a ghost.

  “You know what, I’m not feeling too great, actually,” I say, rubbing my aching stomach. Already a headache is starting to brew, and I know that if we keep talking, I’ll lose my battle and end up making a fool of myself. I can bottle up my emotions for so long before they spill out uncontrollably.

  “You do feel warm,” my mom says thoughtfully as she presses the back of her hand against my clammy forehead. “You want me to make you some soup?”

  I catch a glimpse of Katie and Aiden whispering to each other in my peripheral vision. They’re probably thinking this is pathetic.

  “No, if you don’t mind. I just want to crawl into bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I pretend to yawn to emphasize my point and my parents pull me in for another squeeze.

  A tear leaks out of my eye, but I furiously wipe it away before we break apart.

  “Well, I’m sorry this didn’t turn out the way you hoped. And I’m so sorry about your birthday honey. We’ll celebrate when you’re feeling better.”

  Aiden opens the door and we all wave and say our goodbyes as they walk out. Then Katie closes it again and the three of us breathe.

  Another ping. This time Aiden and Katie exchange looks, and I frown at them.

  “What on earth is going on with you two?” I rest my hands on my hips. “And which one of you thought it would be a good idea to throw me a surprise party?”

  Aiden and Katie point to each other. I roll my eyes. Then a phone vibrates again. Katie’s eyes fly to her screen and widen with horror.

  “Um. Emma…”

  The shocked whisper gives me chills. What can it possibly be now? I don’t say anything but look from Aiden to Katie, waiting for the revelation.

  “Remember the friend you saw at the boutique?” Katie says. I turn numb.

  “Yeah…”

  My own phone vibrates, I rummage in my bag and pull it out.

  126 notifications.

  My horrified gaze lands on Katie as she stares back.

  “No. This isn’t happening,” I whisper.

  Chapter 4

  “I guess I should say congratulations?”

  Aiden Daniels is not a funny guy. And yet, he likes to think he is hilarious. On his thirtieth birthday, for example, he tried doing stand-up comedy at Sam’s club, one of the nicest clubs in the city.

  He was the only act to get booed off the stage. Now I want to boo at him.

  “I can’t believe this,” I say, holding my head in my hands. Katie guides me to the couch and Aiden brings over a glass of water. He passes it to me and the two of them talk in hushed tones, acting like I’m not even there.

  “It’s not funny Aiden, everyone’s sending her messages about it.”

  “It’s a good thing her parents aren’t on social media.”

  I’m still numb. In fact, I think I’m having an out-of-body experience and this whole charade is happening to someone else. I look down at my phone again as it pings.

  “Congratulations to my old friend, Emma King, on her engagement. Enjoy the plaza and a lifetime of happiness - Shelly Bones.”

  Curse you, social media. What happened to the good old days, when you could tell a white lie about being engaged and no one else would find out?

  Why must we now have smartphones with apps that spread the white lie and turn it into a big black entanglement of fake news? Thankfully, I didn’t give her my fiancé’s name, so at least it’s only mine that’s tagged.

  Except for Perrier Francé, who she’s been able to tag on Instagram in one of her other posts.

  “Why does this person think you’re getting married?” Aiden asks, looking at me with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. I throw my head in my hands again and groan as Katie tells the story.

  “She bumped into an old school friend at Noelle’s and just came out with this elaborate story about her amazing fiancé and the extravagant upcoming wedding.”

  “It wasn’t just an old school friend,” I say. “It was Shelly. She was going on and on about her perfect life, volunteering in Africa with her rich boyfriend who looks like an action figure.”

  “Is this the same Shelly your boyfriend cheated on you with?” Aiden asks, looking thoughtful.

  And just like that, my annoyance washes away and Aiden is my best friend again. He says no more, but the look in his eyes is all the validation I need.

  He gets it.

  “Exactly,” I say.

  Aiden drapes his arm around my shoulder, and I spot Katie tapping away at her phone with vicious concentration. Her tongue is sticking out.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her. My phone vibrates again, so I turn it off.

  “I’m sending Shelly a private message, telling her to put the post down.”

  “What!” I shriek, sitting upright. Aiden’s arm drops behind me and he grumbles, but I ignore him.

  “Don’t do that. If Shelly finds out it was all a lie, she’ll never let me live it down.”

  Katie drags a hand over her face with a sigh.

  “But Emma… have you seen how many followers Shelly has? You’re blowing up on social media. Everyone’s asking who the fiancé is.”

  “It’s best if you tell the truth,” Aiden says with a reassuring nod, but the action does nothing to reassure me. Haven’t I done enough truth telling today? Owning up to my parents about losing my job took all of the courage I had left.

  “I can’t,” I say in a weak voice. The words sound lame and the unimpressed stares from my friends do not help.

  “What do you expect me to do? Write up a post and say, ‘Hey, funny story… I got fired from my job today, tried on wedding dresses and bumped into a friend who thought I was getting married… so I sort of came up with a few white lies and now the world thinks Perrier Francé is baking me a cake.’ Yeah, like that’s happening.”

  “Why not? I’m sure you’re not the only person to have a fake fiancé,” Katie says with a shrug; as if I lied about something superficial like my weight, or how many donuts I ate today.

  “Well, you have to do something. News travels fast and when your parents find out…”

  Oh, no. My parents.

  Just the thought of them finding out about this sends chills down my spine. My mom will pack up my things and move me back home in an instant. My dad will be so ashamed.

  Then I’ll spend the rest of my days living at my parents’ house, not trusted to embark out into the world on my own ever again. Now, I really do feel sick.

  “You know what, it’s getting late. I’m going to just go to bed and figure it out in the morning with a fresh head.” I get up and edge away, grinning sheepishly at the incredulous faces of my best friends.

  “It’s only nine-thirty,” Katie says, glancing at her watch. Aiden motions to follow me but I raise a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Emma, you can’t hide from this. The longer you leave it, the harder it’s going to be to come clean,” he says firmly. He’s got his ultra-serious face on now. It’s the same expression he uses whenever he takes a work call.

  “Oh yes I can,” I argue. “My phone is off and I’m going to bed.”

  Before anyone can argue, I make a dash for the hall and burst into my room. The door slams behind me and I press my back up against it, listening to the thumping of my heartbeat.

  Thanks to Shelly-miss-big-mouth, the whole world of social media thin
ks I’m getting married. But that’ll have to wait until I’ve had some Tylenol and an early night. Perhaps, if I’m really lucky, I’ll wake up and find that this day was all a bad dream, and I’ll be getting ready for the big pitch.

  Either that, or I’ll be hunting for a new job.

  And possibly a new identity too.

  Chapter 5

  I love New York. Waking up to the rattling of windows as honking taxi cabs rush by reminds me I’m in the center of all the action. This city never sleeps, and the possibilities here are endless.

  As an attractive bachelorette with a Masters in Fashion and a brain for business, I was born to live in the city.

  But now, I might have to pack up and move to a place where no one knows me.

  Where is Rekyvik?

  Even though I’ve slept for twelve straight hours, my mind is no clearer than it was last night. I trudge into the living area, glancing at Katie’s bedroom door as I pass, hoping it doesn’t fly open. My heart sinks at the sight of my office belongings sitting in their cardboard box in a corner of the room.

  Nope, it was not some vivid nightmare. I’ve lost my job and had the worst birthday surprise ever; hundreds of messages congratulating me on my - fake - engagement.

  But today is a new day and I’m a smart gal. I can totally figure this out. All I need to do is get a new job and tell the world the engagement was just a big misunderstanding. Someday, I’ll look back on this whole charade and laugh.

  Right? Right?!

  My thoughts turn to Aiden, he stayed up all night perfecting my presentation for me, then threw a surprise party to make my thirtieth birthday special. I repaid him by going crazy, sending everyone home and running to my room! I owe him an apology. And cake. Thankfully, there is a giant chocolate cake with my face on it. Literally.

  And so, a plan is made.

  I sing to myself in the shower, completely burying my head in the sand over the fact that I am now a thirty-year-old woman with a job hunt ahead of me. Then I pick a pair of jeans and attempt to pull them over my swollen hips, jumping up and down to aid the process.