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“It’s complicated,” I agree, and he nods.
“Want to come in for a minute?” I ask.
It just comes out. I don’t know why. No, I do. I want to talk more about the fake marriage thing. It’s kind of crazy, but I don’t really want it to end. It’s been too much fun. And it would make my parents happy and his mom thrilled.
Inside I offer him a beer, and he accepts. I realize how comfortable I am with him. I’m not trying to impress him. I’m not worrying about where the night will end or what comes next. I just like having him around.
“What should we toast to?” he says, raising his bottle.
I take a deep breath and decide to go for it.
“To getting married,” I proclaim.
“What?” he says.
He’s standing there, shocked, mouth gaping open like a fish. Oof, that’s not a good comparison. He’s much sexier than any fish. If I had to pick a fake husband, he definitely would be up there with Justin, and ahead of Lance.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” I confess. “Your mom is just so sweet and hanging out with you is just so much fun. I know turning a fake relationship into a fake marriage is a lot of fake commitment, but…I think I’m ready for it.”
It’s crazy, and it’s certainly not like I imagined it would be. I thought the man of my dreams would be asking me. In a proposal that took my breath away, a story that would spread like wildfire and be the inspiration for every romantic proposal for at least the next decade.
This isn’t that. But he’s staring at me, trying to find the words to say, and I know I’m okay with it. We’re doing a good deed. We are helping each other, and helping his mom have a last little bit of happiness. It’s amazing, in its own way.
“Are you sure? You mean it?” he asks, and I can tell he doesn’t believe I’ve agreed to it.
“Yes,” I say confidently.
Fake it till you feel it has always been my motto. But I actually feel reasonably sure about this. He’s a nice guy, and it would solve both our problems.
“That’s fantastic,” he says. He grabs me and plants a kiss on my lips.
I’m just leaning into it when he suddenly pulls away.
“Oh my God,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say, shaking my head to clear it. “If we’re going to pull this off, we have to be good with public displays of affection. People should think we can’t keep our hands off each other.”
He nods. I lock my knees which are a little shaky. For an impromptu ‘We are going to get fake married’ kiss all I can think is,Wow!
I could do a lot worse,I think. I’m pretty sure that poor guy from my parents’ church who got roped into dinner with me wouldn’t kiss like that.
I tell myself to stop. If we are going to do this, for his mom and my parents, we need some ground rules, and no complications. Sex, no matter how much fun it would probably be – no, would definitely be – would complicate matters.
“Why don’t we sit down,” I say, pointing to the couch. “We should…talk about this.”
“Good idea,” he says, nodding.
I grab a pad and a pen before sitting down next to him. I writeRules of a Fake Marriageon the top and underline it twice. I show it to him, and he nods. I add the number one.
“First rule,” I say, realizing I have no idea.
If we googled it, what would come up?
“Should we ask Alexa?” he says dryly, and I laugh.
“I was just thinking the same thing. No, we can do this, just think.”
“I think,” he says slowly. “You would move in with me.
