AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She blinks a couple of times, and I can feel the panic sipping through her pores. “Why?”
I lean in closer, smirking. “If we’re pulling this off, we’re going all out. By the end of it, every soul in this town will be convinced we’re head over heels for each other.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “And my friends agreed to it?”
“Jez is closing the bar on Sunday, and Gael is preparing the food for the event—cake included.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, speechless. The satisfaction of seeing her reaction is priceless. She wanted the perfect fiancé to convince her family that I was better than her sister’s boyfriend. Well, we’re doing everything we can to show that I am. Honestly, if I could be myself, there wouldn’t be any contest. But this has to do for now.
It’s a matter of showing I have money, being the best son-in-law to be, and proving I’m madly in love with their daughter.
How hard can that be?
ChapterTen
River
The one-story househas all the comforts I’ve been missing. The state-of-the-art coffeemaker promises everything from lattes to cappuccinos, and everything in between.There’s a microwave, an electric can opener . . . I feel like I’m in heaven. Who knew I would be so happy to see a television mounted in the middle of a living room?
I’m so busy admiring the modern comforts of this century I almost miss Sutton’s comment. “You do realize this isn’t a date, right?”
I respond with a charmingly playful tilt of my head. “No of course it’s not. Our first date happened a few years ago, when I met you in New York.”
She gives me a look, half incredulous and half amused. “Excuse me? I’ve never seen you in my entire life.” Sutton presses her lips together. “Well, before you arrived at Heartwood Lake to help your uncle.” She draws air quotes.
Feigning mock surprise, I say, “But darling, of course you have. It was a wintry day. You had come for . . .” I pause, theatrically pressing a finger to my lip as if deep in thought. “Fuck, how can I forget the most special time of my life. I thought I had seared every detail of it in my mind.”
Her gaze narrows, and her voice drips with mock suspicion. “Is this some kind of prank? Or perhaps it’s the high altitude. I’ve heard it affects some people. “You could either get imaginative storytelling or high-altitude-dementia. Which one is it?”
“Imaginative storytelling.” Chuckling, I tap a finger to my chin, the way a writer might while plotting the next scene to what might be their best idea yet. “You’re good at making shit up on the go. I like it.” I give her a sly wink. “But no. I’m filling in the details of how we met.”
She places her hands on her hips, looking every bit the skeptical audience.I’m losing her before I can even convince her I have the best plan to make everyone think that we’re not only engaged but meant for each other.
“As I mentioned?—”
Holding up a hand, I interrupt.If she’s not going to work with me, we might not be able to pull this off. “See, that’s the problem. Saying that we just met when I arrived in town sounds almost like Wren and Drake’s story. It’s boring and probably fake. It’ll be impossible to sell to anyone—including your parents.” I fake a yawn and stretch. “They’ll be asleep before we finish retelling our love story. We can’t lose our audience and credibility. What we need to do is follow the truth and learn how to tell it well.”
She tilts her head, tossing her hands up in the air. “The truth is that we’ve never met. You understand that, right?” Sutton exhales harshly, planting her hands on her waist. “We didn’t meet before—you insist on selling a lie.”
“Listen to me for a moment, Sutton. We have to complete our entire narrative within the next few days—including our dating story,” I say, my voice steady but insistent. “You study English, and I’m sure you are aware of fiction. It’s not a lie, just a story made up to tell others. That’s what we’re constructing. Think about our love story—if you don’t know how, go to the romance section and pull a few of those novels. They’re quite entertaining.”
She crosses her arms, giving me an unamused look. For a woman who seems to love books, she’s not good at understanding fiction.
Convincing her might take a little more than a miracle and I take this as a challenge.
“Okay, so what I want to accomplish with the backstory is having something that’s ours so the engagement makes sense,” I explain further. “There’s a history between us that the town never saw but existed in another time—probably a dream, but they don’t need to know the last part.”
She looks slightly overwhelmed. “You’re making this more confusing,” she says, taking a moment before sinking into the leather couch.
“As I said while I was leaving the library, we met before,” I reiterate.
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s your narrative? That we met before?” The disbelief in her voice never leaves.
“We did,” I maintain, keeping eye contact to reinforce my point. “Close your eyes and go back to that day when you arrived in New York and thought it would be easier to take the subway from the airport than a cab. You got mugged. Desperate, you called Regina, who then gave you my number—since I’m her favorite cousin. And . . . well, I came to your rescue.”
“You did?” she asks.
“I absolutely did,” I state, trying to sound sure of my story, even when it’s a big lie.
