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“Did you just say jumping shit?” Zoey slurs.

“Ship. S-H-I-P.” My stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

“Oh—my—God!” Emma picks up a sub and starts angry eating, tearing bites off her turkey and ham and shoving them in her mouth. “Just stop,” she says with a full mouth.

This is most of our Wednesdays. Just us girls chatting it up over anything and everything… poop faces and all.

Emma picks up another bottle of tequila. “How about a little jalapeño tequila to go with Lucy’s one-night-stand confession?”

“I don’t think I need any more,” Zoey confesses. “Plus, we better keep it down because of the kids.”

Emma coughs. “Bullshit.” She coughs again. “You didn’t just get a babysitter for nothing.”

“Fine. Just let me drink a bottle of water first.” Zoey twists the top off a plastic bottle and takes a swig while I sit there and wonder what they want to hear.

“I think you guys have heard it all.” I sit there for a minute while my friends just stare at me. These ladies know me better than I know myself some days and they definitely aren’t buying what I’m selling.

“Fine—what do you want to know?” I try to hold them off, but really, there is no other way around this. I just have to rip off the Band-Aid.

“Everything.” They say in unison.

“I met him at the hotel, one thing led to another, we had mind-blowing sex, endless orgasms, and then I found out the next day that Mr. Penthouse is actually Beau Montgomery, the writer of the article I’m supposed to be featured in.” I pause, waiting for the dust to settle from the bomb I just dropped. “And the editor-in-chief of the magazine.”

“Nooooo!” Emma and Zoey just look at each other.

“Yes.”

“What did you do?” Emma asks curiously.

“After talking, we decided that we both really needed this article to happen. So… we agreed to plan a wedding … with Beau playing the part of my fake fiancé.” I don’t tell them the reasons why we would do this—they already know mine—but Beau’s is another story. A story that isn’t mine to tell.

I still can’t believe it.

I don’t know if it’s retelling the story or the fact that Beau Montgomery—sexiest man alive, the giver of orgasms, and now my fake fiancé, will actually be here tomorrow, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.

Or him… or everything.

“You what?” Zoey crinkles her brow.

It’s like everything happens in slow motion. Emma and Zoey look at each other before they both collapse backward, falling into the overstuffed couch.

“Fiancé?”

“Like a wedding?”

“Yes and yes,” I answer.

We all sit in an awkward silence.

“Okay then.” I clap. “Well, that went easier than expected.” I flash them a tight smile.

Emma makes like she is reeling in a fishing pole. “Let’s rewind for a quick minute. Mr. Penthouse, one-night stand dude, is actually Beau Montgomery—your new fake fiancé—and you two plan to have a fake wedding?”

I nod.

Zoey leans forward. “How in the hell do you plan a fake wedding?”

“Same way you plan a real one.” I laugh, feeling the effects of the tequila.