Fake Marrying Her Dad's Best Friend (Her Dad's Best Friend 3)

“Yeah,” I say. “And that’s not the worst part. They’re trying to do it by getting guardianship of Danny. They’re trying to say that I’m an unfit parent because I’m alone and working. There are two of them. It’ll be a more stable household.”

“So get engaged to some floozy,” he tells me.

“Not that simple. I’m sure they’d see through that.”

Eric sighs. “So what are you going to do?”

“What would you be willing to do to protect the company? How far would you go?”

Silence. “Pretty far.” Eric doesn’t sound very happy, because he knows where I’m going.

“I’d like to marry your daughter.”

“No fucking way. Snowball’s chance in hell. Fuck no.”

“Hear me out,” I say. “Listen, she’s already living in my house and taking care of Danny. She’s kind of like a mother. And I’ll take care of her, pay for her college, set her up with a trust fund, whatever. I promise I’d treat her right.”

“You’re lucky that it’s you, asshole,” Eric grumbles. “You might be the only man I’d trust enough for this.” He sighs. “And the divorce?”

“Elia and I will work it out.”

“I don’t like this,” he says. “But I’m going to give you a green light anyway. Don’t fuck things up,” he wa

rns.

“Got you,” I say.

“Later, loser,” he says, yawning. “I’m going to go back to sleep.”

And with that, the phone buzzes. He’s in bed and I’m about to ask Elia to be my wife.

I go to my safe. My mother was disappointed when I proposed to my dead wife with a custom-made ring that she designed. I have my grandmother’s ring, a tiny chip diamond set in a small gold band. It’s not worth a lot of money, but it’s worth the world to me. Elia might only wear it for a little while, but I know that I’ll like seeing it on her hand.

Chapter 18

Ring

Elia

I have headphones on and am trying to watch a really old episode of Sabrina when I hear a knock on my door.

“Can I come in?”

I take the headphones off. “Yeah, come on in.”

My feet are tucked under me. I’m facing my laptop.

“What’s up?” I ask.

He sits on my bed and smooths a small wrinkle in my bedspread.

“We need to talk.” He looks up at me. “And it’s serious. Sit over here.” He pats the bedspread next to him.

“Yeah?” I sit next to him. My feet don’t touch the ground.

He swallows and snorts a little. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“What?”