Page 41 of Tessa and Nash

“Yes,” she says immediately. “I think you make reckless choices and clean them up later with charm.”

“That’s not who I am.”

“It’s who you are under pressure,” she counters. “And now you’re trying to tell me this…” she gestures between us, sharp and contained, “was just an accident?”

My head throbs. My chest tightens. The words stack up behind my teeth with nowhere to go.

“I didn’t cheat,” I say again, too fast, too defensive. “Because there is no fiancée.”

The silence is immediate.

Absolute.

Tessa freezes.

“What,” she says very quietly, “did you just say?”

The words hang there, ugly and irreversible.

I close my eyes.

“Shit.”

She takes one slow step toward me. “Say it again.”

I shake my head. “Tessa⁠—”

“There is no fiancée,” she repeats. “That’s what you said.”

I open my eyes and meet her gaze.

“There is no fiancée,” I admit.

The truth lands as a gunshot.

“Oh shit. You’re serious.”

“I panicked,” I say, words tumbling out now. “The council cornered me—they were going to shut the whole thing down, and I said the first thing that made them hesitate.”

“So you invented a woman,” she says flatly.

“Yes.”

“You invented commitment.”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re telling me,” she says slowly, dangerously, “that there is no fiancée at all.”

“That’s what I just said.”

She stares at me for a long moment, then bursts out laughing. Real laughter this time, bent over at the waist, one hand braced on the dresser as if she might actually collapse.

“You are unbelievable,” she manages. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

I scowl. “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, it is,” she says, straightening and pointing at me. “You stood in front of the entire town and lied about settling down because you needed leverage.”