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"I'm rich. I can afford it."
"So what's my budget?"
"What's your budget for what?"
"For the ring?"
"There's no budget. You're my fiance. Get the biggest diamond you want."
"Yeah no. I don't know if you're going to be able to return it and I don’t want you-"
"Why would I return it?" I glance at her face and frown. We haven’t even gotten the ring yet and she’s already talking about giving it back.
"Because we're not actually engaged, Jackson. This is fake. And when we eventually break up, you're going to want to return it to get your money back."
"No," I shake my head. "You'll keep it."
"I'll keep it?" Her eyes dart back and forth, like she’s overwhelmed. "No, that's too much. You're already giving me too much. I can't have a diamond ring on top of that."
"You're doing me a favor." This is a foreign feeling to me, having to convince someone to take something from me. I wasn’t used to it. Normally that’s all I did. Everyone I knew always came to me for something. They needed something. They wanted something. They saw me as a means to an end. My entire family. Every friend I had, aside from Ethan. And every woman I ever dated. Yet, Zara was standing here looking aghast by the fact that I wanted to give her an engagement ring?
"I know and I don't even really understand why we’re doing this. Why do you have to pretend to have a fiance?"
"Because like I told you previously, my grandma is matchmaking me with every single rich debutante she knows, half of whom I can't stand. And my father had a stroke recently. And I have a lot on my plate and I just need a reprieve while I figure out what is next in my life."
"Oh, I'm sorry.” She grabs my arm. "Is your dad okay?"
"He's fine. Thank you for asking," I nod. I note to myself that she truly did look surprised, so she definitely hadn't heard anything about my dad, which was good. "But I kind of promised my family that I would spend time with them this summer and Ethan wants to buy a house in the Hamptons and he's got some work stuff going on there, so I agreed to spend a couple of weeks there."
"Okay, good for you," she says and I can tell from the look on her face that she’s wondering why I’m telling her that. “Have fun.”
"You'll be coming with me." I continue so that she knows I’m not just talking to fill time.
"What?" She blinks up at me slowly, shaking her head. "I can't go with you." There’s an anxious expression on her face and it’s not the reaction I’d expected to see. I’d expected to see her excited and eager. What woman didn’t want an all-expenses paid trip to The Hamptons. It struck me yet again, that Zara Hathaway was different. She wasn’t looking to get everything she wanted out of me. In fact, she seemed hesitant to take anything. The thought hits me that if she weren’t in a desperate situation she may not have been willing to help me at me. I don’t know why a pang of sadness fills me at that reality. Or maybe I don’t want to know.
"You can and you will." There’s no way on God’s green earth that she’s not coming with me to The Hamptons. I hate spending time there, but I’m a little excited to take her there with me. I want to see her in my bed, watch her take in all the glamor and glitz of my life. I wonder how she’ll feel. Maybe she’ll fade into the scene like she was meant to be there, or maybe she will be like me, observing from the sidelines that all that glitters is not gold.
"But it's the Hamptons. I live in New York."
"And so what? Zara, you will spend a couple of weeks with me in the Hamptons and play the part of my dutiful fiance and just so you know, we'll be in the same room. So be prepared for that."
Her jaw drops and she licks her lips nervously. "I can't stay in the same room with you in the Hamptons. That's crazy."
"Well, my family's going to be there and they will definitely expect my fiance to stay in the same room as me."
"Your family's going to be there?" She shakes her head. "In the same house?"
"Yes."
"But I thought we'd have our own place. I thought we’d at least be in our own private place."
"You didn't think anything. You didn't even know we were going to the Hamptons until about a minute ago."
"But Jackson..." She groans.
“What? Scared you're not going to be able to keep your hands off of me?"
"No, I'm scared you're not going to be able to keep your hands off of me," She says with a pointed look at my hands. Little does she know that I also doubt I will be able to keep my hands off of her.
