Final Play (Fake Boyfriend 6)

I always used to think being tied down to someone would stifle my opportunity at a carefree life. Responsibilities, kids, marriage … it all felt like a heavy weight—the old ball and chain.

A life with Damon? Responsibilities aren’t daunting, and we’ve both agreed we don’t want kids. Marriage … well, I’m compromising, because he’s worth it.

“We’re going back,” he says as he stalks away toward the ugly-ass plant that assaulted me and takes a photo. “Do you need help? Can you walk?”

“I hurt my hand, not my foot.”

With a nod, he heads the opposite way on the trail, going down the mountain.

“I’m fine,” I call out to him. “We should keep going.” I can’t let a sore hand ruin this.

“Sure, and when you die from all the poison running through your system, I’ll throw you off the cliff. Quick burial.”

“Well, that’s morbid,” I mumble and reluctantly follow him. “Love you too.”

It only takes Damon glancing back at me once for me to decipher the look of determination on his face is actually panic.

I reach for him with my good hand. “Damon.”

He pushes forward.

“Baby!” My tone is supposed to be authoritative, but it doesn’t quite have the effect I want.

Damon spins on his heel. “Shit, are you in pain? Are you faint? Do you need me to go ahead and get someone to come back with a first aid kit, or I dunno … anti-venom or something?”

I can’t help laughing as I step closer and press myself against him. “I’m fine. My hand’s a little tingly, but that’s all.”

“What if the tingly feeling is poison or you’re having an allergic reaction or—”

I grunt. “Fiji might not even have poisonous plants.”

“Do you know how close we are to Australia? Everything tries to kill you on this side of the world.”

I roll my eyes. “Australia is another four-hour flight away with plenty of ocean between us. I know because I looked at possibly extending our vacation to go there, but you needed to get back to work.”

Okay, that might’ve come out more bitter than I intended.

Damon frowns. “Are you really bringing that up now while you’re dying from a poison plant?”

“I’m not dying.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re impossible when you’re worrying.” I try to reach for my phone in my pocket, but it’s in my right one, and my right hand is sore as fuck, and trying to get to it with my left is impossible.

Damon huffs. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to reach my phone to google it so you’re not stressing at me for the hike back.”

Damon’s hand goes straight into my pocket, and I realize my critical mistake a moment too late. I put my phone in my left, so I could reach for the ring with my right. The bulge in my shorts isn’t my phone but the fucking ring.

“Wait!” I yell and try to step back, but it’s already done.

Damon’s eyes widen as he wraps his fingers around the small box. “Maddy … what … what is …” He pulls it out of my pocket completely. “Is this …”

“Motherfucking twatwaffle on a stick, I messed this up.”

“Babe?”

I sigh. “The plan was to walk up this stupid mountain, and while looking out at the stupid ocean with a stupidly majestic view, I’d get down on one knee and ask you to be mine forever. It was going to be beautiful, damn it!”

Damon looks between me and the ring box and back again. “Is this real?”

I slowly step forward and pull him against me with my good hand. “You’re the kind of guy who likes to have things in order. You want boxes ticked, every i to be dotted, and every t to be crossed. I know you want marriage, and I want to give you everything.” I lower my voice. “Marry me.”

Damon’s mouth works open and closed like a fish. “Poison.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Not really the answer I was expecting.”

Damon holds up his finger. “We just … I dunno … just pause.”

“You can’t pause a proposal.”

“Well, I just did.” Damon gets out his own phone and taps at the screen. Then scrolls. Then taps away again. “Okay. Sooo, I may have overreacted. No poisonous plants in Fiji.”

“I think the fact I’m not dead yet would already tell you that. Or at least that the one I fell on isn’t poisonous.”

Damon shakes it off and stares at me, pinning me with those green eyes I fell in love with so many years ago. “Okay, so the proposal thing—”

“Marry me,” I say again. This time I lift the lid of the box and show off the simple titanium band Stacy helped me pick out.

“Oh, babe.” Damon’s eyes soften.

The expectation of a yes rings in my head, but that is not what I hear.

“No.”

My face falls. “What?”

“We’re not getting married.” Damon looks so serious, and it cuts through my heart like a knife.