Ethan raised his glass. “Let’s drink to broken families and damaged souls.”

“How about you?” Liam asked Rainey after she had served her customer and poured herself a drink. “Do you want to marry me? Quick civil ceremony. A meeting with the legal trustee. Maybe one appearance in front of the family. We live our separate lives for a year. Then get divorced. I’d be willing to pay.”

“Tempting as it is, I’m allergic to marriage,” Rainey said dryly. “Also, I’m running the Canadian Death Race in Grand Cache, Alberta, this weekend so a quickie marriage doesn’t fit into the schedule.” She held up a toned arm, covered in tattoos. “One more banner and I’ll have a full Death Race set.”

“Impressive.” He was relieved she’d turned him down. Of course he’d had to ask—he’d regret leaving no stone unturned—but he and Rainey together were a disaster waiting to happen. “I guess Daisy is still my best option.”

Ethan refilled their glasses. “I think you should just move on. Forget Daisy. Forget the distillery. I washed my hands of all that Murphy crap a long time ago. Your family. My family. There are no good Murphy relationships. No good Murphy businesses. You’re making a fresh start here in the city. You’ve got a good job. You’re going to meet new women. Why complicate things by dredging up the past?”

Liam didn’t speak for a few moments as he mulled over Ethan’s suggestion. “I can’t let Brendan destroy it,” he said finally. “Besides the family legacy, there are jobs at stake. And Daisy would be a perfect fake wife. We know each other, so it wouldn’t be suspicious if we got together. And she hates me so there would be no relationship issues and no expectations.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Rainey shook her head. “I almost want to slap you again. What does she get out of it, other than an easy opportunity to slit your throat in your sleep?”

Liam took a moment to consider. “Her family is trying to set her up in an arranged marriage. She’s not interested.”

“Not worth it.” She grabbed a cloth and wiped down the already clean counter. “A year with a guy you hate versus just telling your parents to get the hell out of your life. I know which one I’d pick.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said. For the Patels, he knew, there was no life without family. Every weekend there was a family gathering, dinner, or celebration. When Sanjay had a soccer game, thirty or forty relatives would show up to cheer him on. If Mr. Patel couldn’t make it home from work on time, an aunt or uncle would bring over a full cooked dinner. If someone had a problem, everyone rallied around to help. By contrast, Liam had rarely seen his relatives. His mother’s family lived in Florida, and his father’s family hadn’t wanted to be around his dad.

“Sure it is.” Rainey brushed back a loose strand of hair. “If she tied herself to you for a year, she’d be giving up the chance to find that one person in the world who thinks you’re worth throwing down for when things go wrong. Don’t you want to find that person, too?”

“I’m not relationship material.” He pushed his glass across the table.

“You just told me you’re trying to find a wife.”

“A fake wife.”

She finished her drink in one gulp, a waste of good whiskey considering the cost. “I think I’ll get one of the bouncers to come over and pound some sense into you.”

“I thought you already did that.” He looked to Ethan again for help, but his cousin just held up his hands in mock surrender.

“I don’t even try to control her.”

“That was a just a love tap.” Rainey narrowed her eyes. “If you do something stupid, like propose to a woman who hates you to get a distillery you don’t need and have no time to run, that’s when things really get rough.”

• 8 •

“GOOD morning, Mrs. Liam Murphy.”

Layla’s voice crackled over the speaker in Daisy’s Mini Cooper. They usually caught up in the mornings on the way to work if they hadn’t talked the night before. It made the drive from Bernal Heights to Organicare’s offices in SoMa almost bearable.

“That’s not funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not funny,” Layla said. “But now that the family knows you’re engaged, everyone wants to know who he is. Some of the aunties even tried to bribe me to divulge his last name—special jewelry for my wedding, snacks from India, saris they were keeping for their daughters . . .” Layla was engaged to Sam Mehta, and with the wedding only ten months away, they were well into wedding planning.

“I trust you,” Daisy said, laughing. “I know you won’t break.”

“I was tempted by Nira Auntie’s offer of a ten percent discount on a wedding lehenga at her store. You know how she overcharges.”

Daisy slowed the car for the usual traffic jam. She preferred taking the 280 for the occasional glimpse of the Bay, but her map app had shown the 101 route could get her to work in substantially less time.

“At least you’re free now,” Layla said. “Until you break up with your fictitious fiancé, they’ll leave you alone. You just better hope no one realizes that Liam is the same guy who stood you up for our senior prom.”

“I’m not totally free. I still have to go out on a date with Roshan.” Daisy sighed. “Dad guilted me into it. He thinks he knows me better than I know myself.” She lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her cheek and mentally checked herself. Her hair instantly frizzed if she touched it with anything other than her fingers at any time other than in the three seconds after she stepped out of her shower.

“You might want to go on that date,” Layla said. “My dad said he was the ‘real deal.’ And it would be good to have an accountant in the family.”