Mister Fake Fiance

As the silence stretches, her face falls. “I look weird, don’t I?” She looks down. “Everyone was looking at me funny. I should’ve known.”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “You don’t look weird. You look perfect. You’re perfect.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

“Very. You’re just…” I try to come up with something more creative, but can’t. “Perfect.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you know how many times you said perfect?”

“I don’t care. It’s the right word, because that’s what you are.”

Finally a genuine smile breaks over her anxious face, like sunlight piercing through dark clouds. I’m struck with so many emotions that I can’t begin to untangle them all. But they make my heart feel funny…and achy. I wish she could see what I see—a beautiful young woman whose smile can make my pulse throb, my heart sing. It’s tragic—and infuriating—that she doesn’t realize how special she is.

“I should give Josephine a hefty bonus.”

“She was so nice,” Erin says. “And funny. Very stubborn, too.”

“I’m glad. I would’ve been disappointed if you showed up in a white blouse and dark pencil skirt again.”

She flushes, her rosy cheeks making her even prettier. In case I sounded like I was critical of her office outfits, I add, “Not that there’s anything wrong with pencil skirts, but you could use some variety.”

“She even forced a couple of purses on me.” Erin shifts around a little. “I hope you don’t mind. But if you do, I can return them. I haven’t used them or anything.”

I laugh at her contradictory behavior. Her words are saying one thing, but her body language is saying another. “Look, I bought them for you to enjoy. You should keep everything. Actually, I’m disappointed Josephine didn’t force more bags and shoes on you. Only a couple? Shame on her.”

Erin smiles. “Thank you, David.”

“My pleasure. And it’s just in time—Dane and Sophia invited us over for dinner tomorrow.”

She starts, the smile vanishing from her face. “They did?”

“You’re free, right?” I already know the answer. From what I’ve seen, her social life is pretty barren. I hate it that it’s the case. Warren said she’s only good for eliciting pity. I suspect he isn’t the only one in her life who’s used her for that purpose. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so uncertain of herself.

Thinking about the conversation with him still makes my blood boil, but I keep my expression smooth.

“Yes, of course. Should I arrange for flowers and some other gift?” She purses her mouth. “Should we bring dessert?”

“No! No.” If I make Dane and Sophia taste one of Erin’s desserts, Dane will murder me. Or—worse—tell Erin the truth about her baking. “It’s best we let them figure out the menu. Dane’s very particular.” Both of these statements are true.

“Okay.”

“And Erin?”

“Yes?”

“We have to talk about us tonight.”

A sudden wary light enters her blue eyes. “We…do…?”

Jesus, she’s looking at me like I just asked her to confess her darkest sin. “Dane and Sophia are going to ask questions, and we want to tell the same story.”

She relaxes. “Oh. Certainly.”

“Over dinner?”

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll arrange for takeout, if you don’t mind?” She smiles.

“Actually, I already made a reservation. For seven.”