Mister Fake Fiance

“Only two years,” I interject before she becomes overdramatic.

“You looked fierce and competitive, like you were determined to win her!”

I wasn’t going to let that asshole drag Erin to his car when she said no. He’s probably a serial killer. Actually, he’s worse—a politician. “It’s just the angle of the picture.”

“I guess that means my dream for you and Shelly is ruined,” she says lightly.

My stomach performs a stress-induced triple twist. Doesn’t stick the landing. “What dream?”

“She’s single. So are you. Besides, do you know she quit her job and moved to L.A.? So she’s in the same city as you, too! If that doesn’t feel like destiny, I don’t know what does.”

Shock blooms in my chest, then almost immediately bitter pettiness streaks through it. When and why did Shelly quit a job that she said meant more to her than me? The one she slept with the interviewer to get?

And is her move why she thought we could pick up where we left off? I hope she isn’t holding her breath. Self-induced suffocation probably sucks.

“I thought you two could have one of those second-chance love affairs. It’s a popular trope in romance novels.”

“Life isn’t a Harlequin book,” I say with a groan. Shelly could move next door, and I still wouldn’t take her back. We could be roommates. Hell, we could be sleeping in the same bed. The only thing she and I are destined for is to be completely out of each other’s lives.

“Everyone deserves a happy ending,” Mom says sternly. “For a marketing VP, you’re awfully negative. I always wanted to be in-laws with Jade.”

“Just because you and Shelly’s mom are—”

“We could spend our holidays together, exchange gifts… It’d be amazing. We’d be like sisters! And Shelly is pretty and smart, so you’d have smart, attractive children. I’d love some nice grandbabies to cuddle.”

My time is too precious to waste on discussing an ex I don’t wish well, especially when Mom’s doing her best to let me know that she wants us to not only get back together, but marry. If she says any more, I’m going to barf. “I gotta go. I have to work. And stop dreaming about some BS second-chance romance. Life is a one-shot deal.”

“Fine. Work on wooing the other woman, then. I don’t want to interfere. And blond grandchildren wouldn’t be bad.”

I drop my forehead into my hand. “Goodbye, Mom. I love you.”

She laughs. “Love you too, baby.”

Chapter Ten

David

I get to the office extra early, a box of European chocolates for Erin tucked into my laptop bag. After two cups of coffee and quite a bit of thought on Sunday, it was clear that I should apologize in person.

The decision makes me slightly uneasy, though. It’s hypocritical to apologize when I’m not really sorry about the kiss. Part me knows it was unprofessional, but another part of me is reliving the feel of her softness on my mouth and getting somewhat…

Okay, I’m turned on. It’s weird. It wasn’t even a real kiss. Our lips didn’t part; our tongues didn’t tango. I had dirtier kisses in junior high. But I can’t seem to shove this chaste one with Erin out of my mind.

She isn’t at her desk yet. Not surprising, since I’m an hour early. The office is still mostly empty, except for a few people from the architecture and app dev teams. Those guys seem to think going home to their own beds is optional as long as they have an office they can sleep in.

I sit at my desk, boot my laptop and let it start downloading email. Despite Alexandra’s insistence on avoiding needless messages, more email than I’m ever going to want to read lands in my inbox every day. Many are just CC’d. I usually delete the whole batch. If any of them are actually important, they’ll be re-sent and CC’d to Erin.

The extra coffee I drank to offset the early rollout this morning necessitates a trip to the bathroom. A trio of shaggy guys in rumpled T-shirts and jeans are tearing into packets of candy like wolves as I come out. Sugar and caffeine high. Typical programmers.

And they’re talking way too fast and loud. I don’t mind, though. At this hour, nobody’s really around.

“Grow a pair, man,” one of them says. He has dark hair and a thick layer of stubble on his jaw.

“She’s worth it.” The second guy blows his own hair out of his bloodshot green eyes and adjusts rimless glasses.

“But she’s so standoffish,” the third guy says.

She might not be so standoffish if you got a haircut, I think, but don’t bring that up. I’m not one to advise geeks on their love life. Programmers are important to the company, but I don’t really get them.