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“Come join me, you two!”
We settled onto the blanket beside Maggie. I tried to appear relaxed, though my nerves still churned inside me.
Dylan unpacked the picnic basket, handing me a mini sandwich. “Eat up, sweetie,” he said with a playful wink. “Don’t want my fiancée going hungry!”
There it was. The first seed of our fictional engagement was planted. I nearly choked on my sandwich.
Maggie’s eyes went wide. “Fiancée? Wait, are you two...engaged?”
Dylan slipped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “We sure are. I finally popped the question to this lovely lady.”
I gave a shy smile, holding up my left hand to display the simple silver band Dylan had loaned me as a prop. Maggie broke into a huge grin.
“Oh, congratulations! I had no idea you two were even dating!”
On cue, Dylan launched into the story of his sunset cliff proposal. I occasionally chimed in to add little details, cuddling casually against Dylan’s side. Other picnic-goers soon caught wind of the news, offering their congratulations and asking to see the ring.
Mrs. Anand, my landlord, gave me a knowing smile when she heard. “I thought I detected some sparks between you two,” she said with a wink.
We continued mingling, soaking up the reactions to our supposed engagement. Some seemed genuinely happy for us, while others appeared more skeptical.
“Funny, I’ve never seen you two together around town,” remarked Mr. Bowman, narrowing his eyes.
Dylan just laughed. “Well, we wanted to keep it low-key until I proposed. But I finally convinced this lovely lady to make it official.”
He gazed at me adoringly and I blushed on cue. Mr. Bowman seemed to accept the explanation.
The afternoon passed in a blur of sandwiches, small talk, and fawning over my fake ring. Dylan acted flawlessly, always ready with a loving look or sweet remark. I leaned into his casual touches, almost forgetting they weren’t real.
Dylan and I escaped as the sun dipped towards the horizon, bidding the picnic-goers farewell. We strolled side by side back up the street, dropped arms brushing occasionally.
“So, what did you think?” Dylan asked. “Did we convince them?”
I considered for a moment. “I think so. You were really convincing, by the way. I almost believed it myself.”
Dylan chuckled. “All part of the service, ma’am.”
We reached my front gate and paused. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later, fiancé,” I joked.
Dylan smiled, his green eyes glinting warmly. “See you later, wifey.”
I slipped through the gate, my cheeks inexplicably warm. As I entered my house, I found I was still smiling. The picnic had gone even better than expected. With the seeds of our fake engagement planted, surely the word would now spread through Pebble Point’s grapevine.
My growling stomach reminded me of the time. I decided Dylan deserved a treat, so I texted him, “Darling Husband-to-be,how about dinner at the Italian restaurant?” I quickly checked my dwindling bank balance online. Then I added, “My treat?”, hoping that he wouldn’t choose anything too expensive, but knowing he deserved the best. Dylan replied immediately with a smiley and pasta emoji, and I let him know I’d be over in twenty minutes.
***
I took a deep breath as I stood outside Dylan’s front door, gathering my courage. I smoothed my hands over my fitted black top, making sure there were no stray flecks of paint on it for once. My usual paint-splattered jeans had been swapped out for a dark pair that looked almost dressy. I even dug out a pair of heeled boots from the back of my closet to complete the look.
As ready as I’ll ever be, I lifted my hand and knocked briskly on the door. A moment later, it swung open, and I was momentarily stunned into silence. Dylan stood there looking devastatingly handsome in a slate gray button-down shirt and black pants. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his tanned chest. His hair looked artfully tousled as if he had just run his hands through it.
He smiled crookedly when he saw me. “Well, don’t you clean up nice,” he said approvingly. A blush heated my cheeks. “So do you. I, uh, I figured we should look the part if we’re really selling this.” Dylan’s smile widened. “Smart thinking. Shall we?” He held out his arm gallantly. Still flustered, I took it, my heart skipping a beat when his strong, warm hand covered mine, tucked in the crook of his elbow.
We made the short walk to Casa D’Oliva, our strides perfectly in sync. The Italian restaurant was glowing invitingly in the gathering dusk, strings of fairy lights adorning the entryway.Dylan held the door for me, his hand lingering for a moment on the small of my back as I walked past.
The scents of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh herbs washed over me as we were shown to a small table tucked into an alcove. It was intimate, but still visible to the other diners. Perfect for our little performance tonight.
We settled into the wrought-iron chairs across from each other. The flickering candle on our table cast dancing shadows across Dylan’s face, making him look almost mysterious. Our knees brushed under the table, sending a spark up my leg. I took a shaky sip of water, wondering how I’d make it through a whole dinner pressed this close to him.
