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“I promise I’ll look after myself,” I tell him.
“Good. Now onto the important question.”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you so obsessed with sucking dick?”
I burst out laughing.
“Seriously, dude, you soundedlike shit. I almost wish your voice was still wrecked so you could meet his parents all ‘hello, Mr. And Mrs. Cromwell. No, I don’t usually sound like this, it’s just that your son’s cock is well acquainted with my vocal cords.’”
I bury my face in my hands. “You’re the worst. Get out.”
“Fine, fine, I’m going.” I hear him get up and a moment later, he presses a kiss against the back of my shoulder. “Be good. Look after yourself. I’m going to see if Madden has any incense he can burn for luck.”
“Ask the others about clothes.”
“There’s no way you’re fitting into anything of Madden’s or Seven’s and Xander’s shirt would barely fit onto one of your arms. You could call Rush though. I think he left for work already.”
Rush doesn’t answer, so I send him a text to let him know I’m borrowing something. In his free time, he designs and makes clothes, but some of his style is a little too out there for me. He also has an office job though, so at the very least, he should have something presentable. I mean, this is only lunch, but do I wear nice clothes? A suit? Full tails and a fucking waistcoat?
I try to call Émile but he doesn’t answer either, so I’m going to have to wing it and hope like hell I get it right. Prove to him I’m capable of something.
Rush’s wardrobe is organized by item of clothing and color, so I’m careful to put everything back where I got it from. In the end I settle on a pair of black pants and a navy shirt. The tan pants looked better, but I’m paranoid I’ll end up spilling something in my lap and I don’t need that playing on my mind all throughout lunch.
I text Rush a photo of what I’m borrowing and he sends a heart back in approval.
Émile said not to shave my beard or take my piercing out, which was a huge relief, but I’m pretty confident it’s not going to win me any friends. All the photos I saw of his family were either clean-shaven or meticulously neat stubble and smooth hair.
I don’t fit in. At all. Every minute that ticks by feels like a mistake, but fuck it all, I’m doing it anyway.
Maybe by the end of today I won’t need to worry about this stupid plan because Émile will realize what a mistake it was, but hey, I’m gonna try.
I’m gonna be the best fake fiancé husband person I can be.
And hey, maybe I’ll surprise everyone and his family will end up loving me.
That’s maybe the most deluded thought I’ve had all day.
Chapter 13
Émile
I lean forward, closer to the display, taking in the row of rings in front of me. Elle and I got caught up brainstorming details for my charity event and I almost ran out of time to do this before lunch.
“I can’t believe you’re actually going to propose. To a stranger.”
I shush Elle as my gaze snags on a titanium band with an onyx detail through the middle. It’s understated, expensive, but not flashy, and I can just imagine that exact one on Christian.
We’ve spent most nights this week talking on the phone, catching up on details about each other’s lives, while I briefed him on the members of my family.
“Found it.”
Elle’s disapproval is immediately diverted as she leans in excitedly. “Okay, I highly approve. Still don’t love what you’re doing, but you’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
“Nope.”
She sighs. “I hate being the supportive one.”
