“What? You went out and bought a real diamond ring?” I gasp.
“It was pretty and looked like something you would like,” he says as he jumps up from the couch and hurries to the front door.
There’s a bag sitting on the shoe tray, and he digs out a screw gun and a new doorknob.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was embarrassed—and that idea gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling.
I slip the ring onto my finger. It fits almost perfectly. And he was completely right.
Idolove it.
CHAPTER 14
Magnolia
It’s beena solid week of pretending. We go see his grandfather for short visits, and I tell Alexander about the new recipe Piper and I tried making.
The bar she works at is connected with a local distillery, and they let us come learn from them and experiment with our own stuff. They get the benefit of free help and new flavors, and we get to use their facility.
Turns out, being fired wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to me. I’ve had time to create and do something I really enjoy. The problem is, it’s pushing me further and further from my own goals. I can’t putfake fiancéeon my résumé.
I have other regrets as well. Yesterday afternoon, when I was walking through the park—something I do quite often now that I am unemployed—I witnessed a man propose to his girlfriend.
My pang of regret came in the form of FOMO.
Nash hadn’t actually proposed to me.
Therefore, I don’t have a great story to tell.
I need to talk to him about that.
The door down the hall slams open, and Piper stumbles out. Her hair sticks out at crazy angles from her bun. She reaches a hand out to steady herself against the hall wall. She’s not wearing pants, and her eyeliner has smeared to her cheekbones. A fake row of eyelashes sticks to her eyebrow. If it were someone else coming down the hall, I’d assume they’d been on a bender last night. But it’s Piper. She wakes up like this every day. She’s allergic to mornings. Charlie, on the other hand, tends to take mornings by storm. Quite often, she’s already left the apartment by five a.m.
Piper walks into the kitchen, her left hand in the coffee-mug-holding position.
Her eyes still aren’t open.
“A little to your left,” I call out as she tries to blindly find a mug.
She eventually makes it to the living room to sit on the pink couch next to me.
“Still fired?” she croaks out.
“Still fired,” I reply. The eyelashes are bothering me, so I lean over and pluck them off her eyebrow.
“Thanks.”
I drop them in her open palm.
“How’s life?” I ask.
“Same ol’, same ol’. No good-looking men rushing in and offering to pay me to be their fiancée.”
“I know a guy. Maybe he has a friend.”
“How’d it go playing pretend this week? Would you recommend this as a career path for others?” she teases.
I snort. “It’s been strange, to say the least. The family is toxic from what I’ve picked up. We usually leave before they get there because Nash tries to avoid them. Hisgrandfather loves me, but I’m scared he’ll find out it’s fake and die.”
