Fragile Illusion

It started with a lie.

A story to clean up my reputation.

I never bargained on falling for the girl.

I don’t really care what my family thinks. I work hard, selling my art for a f*ck-ton of money and yeah, I celebrate with the ladies. But my brothers just won’t ease up.

So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. It seems like such a small deception to get my family off my back. Only now…I need to find a fake fiancé.

The red-headed reporter from my art show needs to interview me to keep her job. I figure, we can strike up a deal.

I give her the scoop and she plays the part. We both just need to stick with the rules. What could go wrong?

Fragile Illusion is a fake-finance romance with scorching heat, witty banter, and a fierce heroine.

THATCHER

"Happy birthday, dear Peter, happy birthday to you!" I walk in the door in time to join the chorus singing to my nephew. I slide over to the dining room, where my family and Alice's family are all clapping and cooing at my nephew. He's strapped in his high chair wearing just a diaper as my sister-in-law slides him a giant cupcake. She's a chef, so I'm sure she made it for him from scratch. Knowing Alice, it's probably made of carrot flour with lemon zest and extra protein or some shit…but tastes amazing anyway. 

I pull out my phone and take a picture as Petey smacks the chocolate frosting, then rubs his hand on his belly. He's a cute kid, with his mom's tight, blonde ringlets but the grey eyes all us Stag men inherited from our mother, Laurel. Petey sticks a hand in his mouth, tentative, and then the sugary icing blows his little mind. He dives in, face first. We all laugh, but when I look up, I see my brother Tim scowling at me. 

I raise both my eyebrows at Tim, but don't keep his eye. I look back at Petey. He's got, like, 15 adults staring at him and his cousins—Alice's sister has two boys—are running around screaming. The poor kid must be going crazy with all the stimulation, plus his first experience with sugar. 

"All right, Petey, let's get you cleaned up and we can open your presents!" Alice swoops in and lifts him out of the chair, not even flinching at the mess. She's like that. Doesn't care about stuff like frosting on her shirt. She holds Petey on her hip, trying to keep most of the mess at bay. He reaches for her face and she kisses his chocolaty hand. I take a picture of that, too. Alice has brought a lot of light into our family. 

Things were really rocky with Tim and her for a bit there. She got pregnant pretty early in their relationship and insisted she had to raise the baby within walking distance of her family. Tim wanted them to live in the fancy downtown penthouse he owned at the time. Alice would have none of it. Family is the most important thing to her, and I appreciate that. I mean, my brothers are pains in the ass, but they're all I've got. The Petersons are way up in each other's business—a few of them still live at home with their dad, and Alice's older brother just bought a house in the neighborhood. I laugh a little at how nicely things worked out now that Alice and Tim live in Stag HQ. Alice grew up just a few blocks away from us. We're all one, giant Stag-Peterson group now for Sunday dinners and shit. It's nice. At least Alice's brothers don't judge me for my piercings and ink.

I meet Tim's eye again as Alice and her sister get Peter started opening presents. Yep. Tim is pissed. I shift uncomfortably, grabbing a plate of snacks off the table while Petey opens toy cars and a tricycle. Of course, Ty bought him a hockey stick and Juniper got him a life jacket.

I crouch down next to Alice and Peter to give him my gift. Alice sniffs and makes a face at me. Shit. How bad do I stink? I need to start keeping deodorant in the truck, at least. I slide the wooden box out of my back jeans pocket and hand it to Alice. "I made something for you, dude." Peter smiles at me and tugs at my beard. He's the only one I'll let do that. I know it's wild and unruly, but that doesn't give anyone free reign to yank it. Except Petey. 

"Thatcher, this box is gorgeous," Alice says, rubbing the smooth finish. 

"My buddy made that for me, and engraved it. See?" I point out where Property of Peter Stag is etched into the wood. She hands me the box and I show her how to slide the lid open. The glass marbles I made glisten in the light.

"Marbles, Thatcher? For a baby?" My brother is angry. He's about to blow his shit, I can tell. He storms over and snatches them from Alice's hand. 

"Chill, dude. I used the silicon blend for the base material." I take a marble from him and bounce it on the hardwood floor. "It won't shatter. He can't break it. I promise."

"It's a fucking choking hazard, Thatcher." Tim takes the box and moves to put it up on top of the bookshelf, but I grab his arm. 

"Give me a little more credit than that, would you?" I hold up one of the marbles. "Alice told me nothing smaller than a toilet paper roll. I made sure these were just bigger." I look back and forth between Tim and Alice. She smiles at me warmly, but my brother clenches his teeth. I see a vein twitching in his neck and he walks through to the kitchen. 

"Thatcher, they're just beautiful," Alice says. She holds one of the marbles up to the light. I swirled in black and gold on that one, for our Pittsburgh sports teams. The other marble I made with grey, like our eyes. And a few streaks of purple, for Alice's. I'm pretty pleased with how they turned out. Perfectly spherical. Lightweight enough that I don't worry Petey will hurt himself with them. I know I'm an asshole to women and I show up late to birthday parties, but I would never give my nephew a gift that would hurt him. My family is everything to me.

Alice kisses me on the cheek. "Go talk to him," she urges. "He's just being cranky, I think."

I nod and grab a cupcake before the kids and Ty eat them all. I sigh and walk to the kitchen, where Tim is gripping the counter and staring out the window into the backyard. "Hey, Timber," I say, my mouth full of cupcake. 

"You're a real piece of work, you know that, Thatcher?"

"Dude, I was a half hour late for a baby's birthday party. Can you cut me a break?" I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "And at least turn around to look at me if you're going to give me shit."

Tim whips around and crosses his arms, talking to me like I'm some little kid. "You still smell like pussy. Do you know that? And fucking liquor, too. Did you even shower after?"

I don't say anything, but I don't think it can be true that I reek that badly of sex…although I did go down on what's-her-name in my truck before we headed to her apartment. 

"What do you care what I did last night?"

"I care when you show up hungover and dripping with STDs to my son's fucking birthday party, Thatcher. You're late for every family dinner. You're always out at bars. What the fuck are you doing with your life?"

I throw the rest of the cupcake into the sink. "You have a lot of fucking nerve, Tim, judging my life. I go to functions promoting my goddamn artwork and it's really none of your fucking business who I bring home."

"It is my business, brother." He steps right into my face. "It is my business when you bring some bimbo to the family suite to watch Ty's hockey games and then you piss her the fuck off and she slanders the family name on social media. It is my business when you screw over some executive's daughter and I start losing business to other firms. Are you sensing a pattern here?" He holds up his phone and I see Tiffany has been bashing me online already. That didn't take long. 

"Her father represents the football team, Thatcher," Tim snarls at me. "I've already gotten calls." He grinds his teeth together and I can tell he wants to deck me or sue me. Maybe both.

The thing about Tim is that he's 100 percent correct about me pissing off all these women. Yeah, I go to my brother Ty's pro hockey games and seduce the glamorous women there, and yeah. I forget their names, sneak out of their beds in the middle of the night, or wind up fucking their roommates the next weekend. But they all know this going in. They all know that Thatcher Stag isn't in it for the long haul. One great night. I make it worth their while. 

The other thing about Tim is that he's 100 percent an asshole right now, and I just can't stand it another fucking second. He's always harping on me for how I do business, because it's not how he does business at Stag Law. Fuck him and his uptight designer suits. He has no idea how successful I am, the kinds of negotiations my agent makes for my glass. Could I be a bit more discreet about how I unwind after work? Okay, maybe. 

But my whole life, he's just treated me like his whipping boy, taking out all his frustrations on me because Ty's the youngest and I'm always just there. But I'm sick of him thinking of me as a loser, which is why I respond to him by saying, "I don't know where you get your information from, Tim, but it's outdated. And that chick is delusional. I'll have you know I'm engaged."

I hear a gasp from behind me. Alice and Juniper had walked into the kitchen to see what the commotion was as Tim and I were shouting. Juniper claps her hands. "Engaged? Thatcher, really?? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Yeah, brother. Why didn't you tell us anything about this fiancée of yours?" Tim raises an eyebrow at me and I can tell he knows I'm lying. Fuck him. 

I run a finger through my long hair, trying to smooth it down. "I didn't want to take away from your wedding plans, Juniper. This summer is about you and Ty and I don't want to steal your limelight is all."

"Aww, Thatcher, you are so sweet to consider me that way. You know you getting engaged wouldn't take anything from my wedding, though."

I give her a two-dimple smile. Not that she can see them behind the beard. "I just know you don't have any family, Juniper, so our family should dote on you. This is a big deal for you. You guys can all meet her soon. I promise."

Tim is looking at me like he still wants to murder me. "Why didn't you bring her with you today, then, if she's your fiancée?”

I shrug, stalling. "She's working." Shit. I need to start keeping track of the lies before I get myself in trouble. I just want to get my brother off my back for a minute so I can regroup. 

"Well!" Alice throws her arms around me in a hug. "I insist that you bring her over for family dinner next Sunday. No—Thatcher, don't you look at me that way. She has to come. Tell her to ask off now if she works weekends."

My mouth drops open. I look at Tim and he's smiling like the Cheshire cat. "Great idea, Alice. I need to meet this mystery woman so I can call Tiffany's father and assure him his daughter must have been thinking of a different hipster artist who fucked her and forgot her name." 

I'm seething right now, angry…and panicking, I guess. I can't fucking bear to let him be right about this. "We will be here, brother. Count on it." 

I guess I have a week to find myself a fake fiancée.