Her back straightened and she pulled her eyebrows together. “Why would you assume we’re going to move into your place? Maybe I want us both to live—”
I fixed her with a look. “You don’t need me to tell you why we’re going to live at my place. It’s ten times the size, and doesn’t look like it’s a museum of holiday mementos. If you think I’m going to squeeze myself into your flat, I’ll have that ring back.”
She rolled her eyes and I fought my grin at her faux indignation. There was no way she imagined I’d agree to move into her place. “I suppose. It’s going to be weird being a lodger in someone else’s house for months on end. I’m going to get far too used to this kitchen.” She looked over at my kitchen wistfully. “We might have to agree on visitation rights when all this is over.”
“Visitation rights for my kitchen?” I chuckled.
“It’s a great kitchen.”
I couldn’t argue with that. And if she could produce meals like this in here, she was welcome any time she wanted.
Eleven
Parker
Most women would be ecstatic at the thought of marrying Tristan Dubrow. I thought I’d be ecstatic at the idea that I was finally going to get my hands on my trust fund. It was just that when Sutton and I had brainstormed the idea of me getting fake married, I hadn’t thought through how many people I’d have to pretend to.
“You okay?” Tristan asked. He locked the car and turned to me as I stared up at my parents’ house.
“I hope they believe us.”
He scooped up my hand in his and guided me to the door. “Only one way to find out.”
I stared at our joined hands and up at Tristan. A little over a week ago, I’d never met this man, and now here I was, about to announce to my parents that we were getting married. It didn’t help that he seemed so relaxed about it. Tristan seemed to take everything in his stride. He didn’t seem to mind the fact that I’d completely taken over in the kitchen. I’d rearranged his cupboards so everything I needed for cooking was instinctively where it should be. I’d made a space on the hallway table where I put his unopened mail. I’d bought fresh flowers for the dining table.
He hadn’t raised a single complaint.
“You know you’re a great fake fiancé,” I said.
He squeezed my hand and I felt oddly comforted as he lifted the giant door knocker on my parents’ front door. I’d called them, Tristan by my side, the evening after he proposed. They’d insisted we come to dinner the following evening. So here we were.
“Not so bad yourself.”
“I wish we’d just eloped,” I said. “You think we can pull this off?”
“Absolutely.” He sounded so sure. Then again, Tristan always sounded sure about everything.
My mother flung open the door. “Parker. My baby.” Was she getting emotional? “I never thought I’d see this day.” She pulled me into a tight hug and then practically threw me to the side when she spotted Tristan.
“You must be my future son-in-law.”
Tristan extended his hand but she completely ignored him and pulled him into a hug. “I’m so pleased you’re joining the family.”
An hour and a half after her hug had become awkwardly long, she finally released him and pulled him inside. “Come through to the garden. We can have drinks before dinner and I can show you a few things.”
“Sounds great,” Tristan said and grabbed my hand. Thank God he seemed more adept at acting like a newly engaged couple than me.
My heart sunk to my knees as we made our way through the house to the back and the garden came into view. Several tables were arranged around the garden, each covered in different flower arrangements. What had my mother been doing?
“I thought we’d kill two birds with one stone,” she said, pre-empting me asking what the holy hell was happening. She turned to us and grinned. “I’ve got Lauren here to help.” I did my best not to roll my eyes.
Lauren was my mum’s best friend and a party planner extraordinaire among London’s wealthy. Lauren had never heard of the phrase “less is more” and thought a party wasn’t a party unless there were at least two hundred and fifty guests, Ed Sheeran performing, and lobster served at a sit-down dinner.
Lauren being here was a disaster.
“Parker!” Lauren said as she held my face in her hands. “I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be planning your wedding. We’re going to pull out all the stops, aren’t we, Michele? Let me tell you, after all these years, your wedding is going to be the event of the decade. We’re talking worldwide infamy.” She gestured at the sky as if it were God she was trying to convince. “But we’re going to start with the engagement party. Just an intimate thing. Depending on Tristan’s guest list we thought—Tristan!” Lauren shrieked, when she finally realized she’d not even acknowledged my fiancé. “Tristan, my darling.” She grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek.