The plan was simple enough. I'd marry Alistair. He'd receive full access to his trust. Jake and I would get a cut of his fortune, and Alistair would continue living his salacious lifestyle on the sly. I became more and more excited as we talked. Why wouldn't we do this? It was a perfect plan. What was so precious about marriage anyway? All it boiled down to was a piece of paper. A certificate if you want to be fancy about it. A good excuse for a great party. We wouldn't even stay married. We would get divorced as soon as my erstwhile groom had all his money. He explained the managers of the trust (his grandparents) could choose to dole it out over a year or two, so I might have to tough it out for a few years, but that was a small price to pay to have all my debt cleared and get a reliable car out of the deal. And weekly massages. And a trainer. I'd always been curious about those pet psychics too. I bet Macaroni had a beautiful aura. An aura that would be perfectly complimented by a diamond-studded collar. I imagined pushing for alimony during the divorce proceedings in addition to the multi-millions Alistair promised me. But I could cross that bridge when I got to it.

Once the details were hashed out, things started to get fun. Payton Winchester had a nice ring to it, but that was nothing compared to the ring Alistair put on my finger. His grandmother insisted I have it. It was fatter than the Winchester's stock portfolio. Alistair's parents were delighted to pay for the wedding, and an extravagant engagement party. I luxuriated in the food, drinks, and entertainment his family provided at three separate showers. His parents' friends were generous beyond reason in their gift-giving. His sisters threw me a bachelorette party in Nashville, where we spent days at the spa and nights at the bar. Honestly, I don't know why more people don't fake their engagements. It was bliss and I paid exactly zero dollars for it.

There were a couple awkward moments, like at my first bridal shower, when Alistair's grandma saw me knee her ugly mutt in the head when it jumped on me. She gasped so loud an entire table of schmoozing relatives whipped their heads toward her. I recovered with a smile and a "Oh, you surprised me, pup!" I even pet the thing for good measure.

Another time Alistair's sister overheard me explaining to Alistair why I would never, ever vote for a library millage. "That's awkward," she said drily from behind me, "considering The Winchester Library was built thanks to the support of the Winchester family."

Alistair waved his hand as though her sarcasm smelled bad. "Payton's just kidding. She's a proud card-carrying supporter of the library, aren't you, Pay-Pay?" As with the dog situation, I smiled and pat his sister on the head.

"Of course I am!" I'd say anything to make it through these nuptials. And Alistair was a fantastic partner-in-crime.

My fake groom thought of everything, from fabricating our "how we met" story (at the airport luggage pick-up. He accidentally grabbed my suitcase off the carousel thinking it was his) to his romantic proposal (on a private whale-watching excursion during a long weekend trip to Bar Harbor) to what he loves best about me (my devotion to Macaroni, the weak-bladdered cat). We were a match made in imaginative heaven.

I gave Jake props for not being weird about the whole thing. He continued to be the perfect boyfriend, and simply added best man duties to his list of responsibilities. He and Alistair were fitted for their tuxes, and Jake still delivered my 3 o'clock upside-down caramel macchiato, extra whip. They auditioned dozens of bands and he still wiped the toothpaste out of my sink each morning. Only one Saturday did he forget strawberries for my weekend waffles, but he was quick to apologize and run straight to the farmer's market.

One day Alistair toldme I asked a lot of Jake. Perhaps that was true. But he allowed for it. Jakewas like a balloon. I filled him with requests and he expanded to hold them. DidI ever worry about my balloon boyfriend popping? That would occur to me later. Duringwedding preparation, I was too busy being fake enamored to think much about my actualrelationship. I encouraged Alistair to use Jake to his advantage. "Have Jakebook the limo. Ask Jake to start the thank-you notes. Have Jake make theseating chart." "Jake, Macaroni's collar is ready at the jewelers. Swing by andpick it up, would you?" And Jake was always happy to help.