The Problem With Pretending Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors: Emma Hart Advertisement

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Grandma often said she’d all but lost her only son through Grandpa’s actions; she wasn’t going to lose her grandchildren, too. That didn’t mean she and Mum got along, necessarily, but it did mean we were able to foster some form of bond with them.

Mum believed that both me and Freya had a right to know our family, especially given that I would inherit the dukedom one day. She didn’t want to deprive us of the rich history of our ancestry, either, and I remembered fun summers in Glenroch at the castle.

We’d swim in the loch, run wild with the dogs, and learn all the history about our family and the castle.

I loved it there. I still visited once or twice a year when I was able to, but I much preferred the summer months to the winter ones.

I didn’t blame Freya for wanting to get married there at this time of year. There was a very good chance that Glenroch Castle, nestled deep in the Highlands, on the bank of Loch Duncree, surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, would in fact be covered in snow.

Naturally, my sister had very strict rules about the amount of snow she’d allow.

I’d tried pointing out that she didn’t particularly have much of a say in that matter. After she’d ranted at me for five minutes about how awful it was of me to shit all over her dreams, I’d not mentioned it again.

Neither had anyone else.

Freya was what one would call a bridezilla.

I’d managed to avoid as much of the wedding planning as possible. I wasn’t in the wedding party, thankfully, which meant I was simply a regular guest. I’d happily gone to a suit fitting with her fiancé, James, and agreed to wear the same tie and buttonhole and show up on time, and that was about it.

Bringing a date was far more involved than I wanted to be.

It would be the first time in forever we’d see extended family outside of our paternal aunts and cousins. There would be great-aunts and uncles, second cousins, probably someone who was a third cousin twice removed from a long-lost uncle and a Mongolian prison.

So, no.

I didn’t want a plus one.

Especially not one my grandfather deemed acceptable.

However, Mum was right. Emily Darlington was someone my grandfather would consider a good match, and perhaps it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to stress anyone out any more than they already were, so maybe inviting her would keep the peace.

I could take her, tell Grandpa it wasn’t serious, both placating and pleasing him simultaneously.

I dropped my arm and stared over at the fireplace. The fire was almost out, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up and toss another log on it to bring it back to life.

This wasn’t a decision I wanted to make today. On the other hand, I didn’t have much of a choice.

I was being strongarmed into it at the last minute.

I wasn’t even sure Emily would be able to go. The last I knew, she was working for a law firm in Chelsea, and I doubted she’d get a week off at such late notice.

In fact, nobody I knew would be able to get time off at such late notice.

Unless…

No.

That was ridiculous.

I wasn’t going to entertain such an insane thought.

I got up off the sofa, grabbed my book, and headed into the kitchen. Clearly, I needed some coffee, because I had to be tired if I was considering asking Grace to go with me.

***

I cupped my chin with my hand, pressing my finger against my lips contemplatively. My elbow was flat on the table and taking the weight of my head as I stared at my phone.

Asking Grace to go with me was insane.

Sadly, the coffee hadn’t helped with that little idea.

More to the point, she was not someone who would fall into the list of acceptable from my grandfather.

Although I couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t be deemed entirely unacceptable, either. She was Cambridge educated and studying for her PhD, and if there was one thing Grandpa valued, it was intelligence.

Her love of history wouldn’t exactly be out of place either. He was a history graduate himself, but Oxford rather than Cambridge.

Hmm.

It’d been two days since our collision outside the coffee shop, and I hadn’t texted her since. I hadn’t known what to say, and now I felt a bit awkward, given the only reason I was going to do it was to see if she was able to be my plus one.

God.

If I didn’t do it, I wasn’t ever going to.

I understood how questionable this decision was, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was certainly on the verge of a desperate time.

I grabbed my phone and got it over with.

ME: Hey, it’s William. The coffee destroyer.

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