The Fake Engagement
“I will take that bet.” He held out his hand, she shook it, and he took off his watch. “The time is set. Go.”
She ran to her bedroom.
What Preston didn’t know was prior to leaving her bedroom, she had already pulled out the clothes she intended to wear for her slob Sunday. A pair of loose-fitting shorts, a long shirt, and a pair of open-top sandals.
She moved quickly, changing into panties and a bra, sliding on her shorts, and pulling her shirt over her head.
Next, she ran a brush through her hair, wincing at the knots, but pushing on through. After tying her hair on top of her head, there was no time for makeup, and she was being real. A Sunday never required makeup.
Feet in her sandals, she was out at the spot where Preston was waiting. His mouth hung open.
“I guess I’m the one in charge for today,” she said.
“You cheated.”
“No. I even have underwear on.” She winked at him. “Go get dressed for a walk in the park, my friend.”
He was dumbfounded.
“Oh, I think it might help you to know that for fun, Mackenzie, Juliet, and I would time ourselves getting changed. It would pass the time, and guess who was always the winner.”
“You … you knew you’d win.”
“I don’t believe in failure, boss, or should I say, Preston.”
He disappeared, and she laughed.
Pulling out her cell phone, she saw her besties had texted her goodnight and good morning.
Dialing their apartment, she waited for them to answer.
“Hello,” Juliet said.
“Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to see how you both were doing on this fine Sunday. You know, you could see me if it hadn’t been for you guys giving this insane idea to my boss about me and him pretending to fake live together to be fake engaged.”
Juliet snorted. “There’s nothing fake about you living together. For the next month, you guys will be living together, in close proximity with his parents. You know this is a good plan.”
She sighed. “You’re right, and I hate it. Where’s Mackenzie?”
“Still sleeping.”
“Really?” She checked the time. “It’s nine-thirty.”
“And she pretty much passed out last night. I think this takeover-job thing is bugging her more than we realize.”
“Do you need me to come over?” she asked.
“Nope. I’ve got Mackenzie covered. I’ve already baked her banana bread. Her favorite.”
Eliza wrinkled her nose. “I do not know what is with you guys and your obsessions with bananas. They’re disgusting.”
“They’re tasty, and you know it.”
She liked a banana, but in baked food, that was taking it too far.
“What are you doing today?” Eliza asked. They would always agree to disagree when it came to the use of bananas.
“We’re going to pig out, watch a few movies. Talk about you.”
“Oh, yay, I better be awesome in your gossip. How I make the most difficult sacrifices.”
“Actually, I think we’re going to talk about what a giant pain in the ass you are. How you never make any sacrifices.” Juliet burst out laughing. “Sorry, I couldn’t even finish that sentence. Okay, all joking aside. How are you holding up?”
“Let’s see, I’m in a blank canvas of an apartment. I think they used this place to film horror movies. My boss does nothing but work, but that’s a given. He loves mashed-up banana in his pancakes. How do you think it is going?”
“Ouch, that bad?”
“It’s not bad, per se. It’s just, I don’t know, it’s weird, you know.”
“This is what you get for screwing your boss.”
“I’m not screwing him. Believe me, that’s not happening.”
“But you’ve got to pretend to be doing him,” Juliet said. “Engaged couples are supposed to be close. Having-sex-on-every-single-surface-of-their-apartment kind of close.”
She snorted. “Not all engaged couples are horny for one another. Some have a mutual respect for one another’s mind.”
“Oh, please. You don’t fool me, Eliza Drake. You and I both know that when you find a guy to be engaged to, he has to be passionate. They were the rules of you getting married, remember?”
“You promised never to bring that up,” Eliza said. “We all promised.”
“Actually, we didn’t. What we did as kids was promise we wouldn’t tell any potential boyfriend who didn’t meet all of the desired requirements. I never told your ex that he was a loser in bed. Nor did I tell him he had weird pancake things.” Juliet gasped. “Preston has one of your points.”
“Do not go there.”
“Come on, Eliza, work with me right now. Preston loves weird pancakes. As a kid, that’s what you said. Do you remember what you said?”
“I’m going to hang up now. What you’re saying makes no sense.” She hung up her cell phone and shoved it in her pocket.
“My man is going to have weird taste in pancakes. Maybe even have crushed-up banana or tea pancakes.”
“Why does he have to have weird pancake taste?” Juliet asked.