Mister Fake Fiance

Shelly stares like he just slapped her. “How exactly is she better than me?”

“In every way possible.”

About the only thing I can do is stand next to him and act like how the love of his life might without having the faintest clue what kind of woman would seize David’s heart. I’ve never seen him with the same woman for more than a few weeks since I started working for him. And he seems to prefer it that way. He probably still does, despite the portrait of his pregnant cousin his mom sent him today to gently nudge him into a commitment-ready direction.

“I’m still somebody,” Shelly says. “My family is important. She’s nothing! Nobody! You’ve been rebounding, and there’s no way this woman can mean anything to you!”

Davis shrugs. “Insta-love.”

“I know you’re doing this because you were hurt when I left.”

“Wait a second, you dumped him?” I blurt out. David is obscenely rich and handsome. Smart, too. And nice. Can never forget nice. If a woman could just make him settle down, he’d be jackpot boyfriend material.

Her face turns even redder, verging on apoplexy. If she pops a vein, can I go home?

“That’s none of your business,” she says shrilly.

“She wanted a man who understood her career goals better,” David says to me.

“And now she thinks that man is you?” I ask, wanting to clarify so I can figure out exactly how I’m supposed to play this. It sounds like she wanted a career mentor rather than a boyfriend.

Shelly’s chest rises and falls impressively. “It isn’t like you to rub a woman in my face. Are you purposely trying to hurt me because I hurt you before?”

“Actually, he isn’t rubbing anything. You’re the one who confronted us,” I point out, needing to set the record straight. She seems like the type who could easily rewrite history to suit her narrative.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Her voice is getting a bit too loud.

Oh my God, the attention we must be getting! Hopefully the other guests are too involved in their own conversations to notice us. Maybe I should shut up, stop chumming the water, so to speak. That might calm her down, and she’ll go away.

David apparently doesn’t share that opinion. “I find it comical that you think you know what I’m like, Shelly. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

I’m curious what she did—other than break up with him—but he doesn’t elaborate. And I don’t ask. Seems hypocritical when I haven’t shared a single thing about myself unless it pertains to my job.

“How could I have known that you wouldn’t understand my ambition—that you wanted to keep me down?”

Shelly’s whining makes me scowl, my stomach twisting. Ambition. It’s something I understand all too well, and I don’t have a great feeling

about it. Dad often talked about it, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world: the aspiration to be more, to have more—to be powerful and admired, feared and looked up to.

It’s exhausting just thinking about it.

“Actually, David is very encouraging,” I interject, a need to defend him overwhelming my desire to remain unnoticed. “He’s been voted the most supportive boss for three years in a row, and believe me, competition is fierce at Sweet Darlings.”

Her head swivels like that girl from The Exorcist. “Stay out of this!”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” David shoots back, holding a hand out like a shield. Or a weapon. I can’t decide which.

Her jaw drops. “You’re taking her side?”

“What were you expecting? Didn’t I make it clear? She’s the one.”

Confusion clouds my head. The one? What “the one”?

Then I remember: the love of his life. I should try to look thrilled for the audience’s benefit.

Shelly inhales. Then her lips start to tremble, and unshed tears glitter in her eyes. Oh wow. She’s good. I start to feel bad, because my acting skills aren’t on that level.

Should I cling to David some more? Flutter my eyelashes while I stare up at him longingly?