All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Twenty

        The three of us were hanging out in Kylie's room, which overlooked the pool house. The guest room was nice, although clearly not as decorated or as fancy as Grayson's.

        "Jackie, how you managed to stumble into this man's arms is a mystery, but I am so glad you did," Kylie said, brushing out her hair.

        I blushed. "I'm not in it for the money, or the glamor and fame, it was an accident."

        "Oh, I know. A very good accident." 

        "Well, besides the fact that their emotions are messy and they're faking a relationship and will most likely need therapy, yeah, good," Nina reasoned.

        "Party pooper," Kylie said, sticking out her tongue.

        It clicked. "Wait, how did you know?" I asked Nina.

        "Clay told me." The little snitch. Although I had really said to just keep it away from his parents.

        "Hey, don't look that way, there's a really good chance he still likes you," Kylie said kindly, misreading my sour expression.

        "I don't want him to like me," I argued. "Bad enough we have to fake it."

        "Sweetie, by the wedding, it will not have been fake," she was quick to announce. "You are two beautiful people in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and so far you both have hearts of gold. It's bound to happen," she sighed dreamily.

        I stuck out my tongue. "Gross, I don't want to get married."

        "I don't want to get married, I just want to work myself to death and have exactly two friends and go on vacation every ten years and die alone and sad," Nina mimicked. "I'm all for people not getting married–except when they're as lonely and antifun as you are."

        "I'm not antifun!" My tone unfortunately came across as very antifun.

        "In Vegas you literally planned on not drinking anything, not flirting with any guys, and you planned out every stop on the way two weeks before the trip, including the distance between Target and the hotel," she deadpanned. "Sure, you can be the responsible one on that trip, but that was normal for you, Jackie. Which is why Kylie and I are so excited that you took risks and here we are."

        "What if I had been kidnapped or killed or something?" I challenged.

        Kylie snorted. "Trust me, hon, Grayson was not going to kidnap or kill you. When he tried to introduce himself, he soberly knocked his glass of water into his own lap. Poor guy couldn't stop apologizing. It's like if a teddy bear tried to attack you–it's just not going to happen."

        Unsatisfied with that answer, I said, "Well, I'm never seeing him again after the divorce, so you might as well drop your adorable little fantasies." Then I remembered something. "Also, what the heck, Kylie Borgen!"

        "What?" she said, confused.

        "You sent me that horrible present, how could you?" I snapped.

        She shrugged. "What, is red too strong for you? I should've picked something more sensible. Like black. Like the darkness of your soul."

        "It's not the color, it's the content!" I hissed.

        "Okay? And? Every girl needs a good set when she gets married." Kylie and I have very different philosophies when it comes to what you need when you get married.