The Sleeping Beauty Proposal Read Online Free PDF

bill to Hugh with a note explaining he could either pay for my so-called wedding or he could confess to his loyal female fans that he’d cheated on his girlfriend of four years.”
    Where did Patty come up with this stuff?
    â€œBut since you’re so nice,” she said,“don’t think of faking your engagement as revenge.Think of it as therapy.Wedding therapy. In pretending to be engaged to Hugh, you’ll hold him accountable and, meanwhile, you’ll find out what it’s like to be a bride, for once, instead of the bridesmaid you’ve been fifteen times before.”
    "Seventeen,” I corrected.
    â€œThat’s pathetic. Your closet must be jam-packed with ugly pastel satin dresses.”
    Couldn’t argue with that.
    I sat back and considered Patty’s words. A fake engagement could be exactly like those twelve-step programs where you’re supposed to fake it until you make it. I had to think:What if Hugh had really asked me to marry him? Would I be a different person? Would I stop putting my life on hold?
    It was worth finding out.
    I handed her the phone. “I’ll do it. Call Lucy.”
    â€œReally?” Patty squeezed my arm. “You really will?”
    â€œWhat the hell. I have nothing to lose.”
    After all, if my prince wasn’t going to come, then maybe the next best thing was simply pretending he had.

Chapter Three
    Panic!
    I cannot believe I have let Patty talk me into her so-called Sleeping Beauty Proposal.
    This is the first thought to trip across my brain as I lie in bed, sweating, while the morning sun slants through my window, exposing my web of deceit. How could something that seemed so justifiable last night seem so wrong this morning?
    One of my few remaining brain cells raises its hand: Tequila make Genie go crazy.
    Correct. Anyone else? Yes, you in the back by the cerebellum: Patty Pugliese can talk a jury into believing O. J. Simpson really is innocent.
    Very good. All right. One more: Hugh Spencer is a cruel cad and he deserves to be thoroughly humiliated.
    Possibly. Though I might be going too far, because now the whole world thinks we’re engaged. Like my silly sister, Lucy— whose bazillion calls I’ve so far been able to avoid—and my mother, who, I’m sure, has phoned five hundred of her closest family and friends to spread the word.
    It might be wise for me to tell Mom the truth now, before it gets too late. Yes, it will be humiliating, horribly humiliating, to have to admit that I concocted an engagement out of spite and, okay, on a sappier note, a broken heart.
    I didn’t want to admit this to Patty last night, but a teeny tiny part of me hoped that if I threw a wedding, Hugh would come. Kind of like Field of Dreams for brides. Only, in the cold, sober (I hope I’m sober) light of day, I realize that’s just ridiculous. Hugh would never marry me simply because I sent out invitations.What was I thinking?
    Of course, telling the truth will also mean enduring the gossip fest of all gossip fests that Mom and Lucy will throw as soon as I’m out of earshot. Hours will be spent rehashing how weird it is for an “otherwise normal woman” to fake an engagement, how I might need medication or maybe a stay up the street at McLean.
    Lucy will act shocked that I fantasized Hugh proposed to me and then Mom will rely on her extensive medical background (soap operas, television dramas, movies, and Tuesday’s Science Times ) to diagnose me as suffering from a classic case of “Fatal Attraction Psychosis.”
    Not that I’ve really said “Hugh proposed.” I didn’t have to. All I had to say was, “Hello?” and the next I knew Mom was screaming and Dad was on the family room extension congratulating me with his gruff voice (to hide his emotion), spouting platitudes like “I’m glad you two have decided to quit shacking up and are making it legal” and