The Fake Engagement

Eliza put her hand on her stomach, wanting more answers. She didn’t get it. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

She went to enter the diner, but Marsha grabbed her arm. “After Melinda has made a fortune, she likes space. It’s why she is the main cook.”

“But, does what she say mean anything? She’s not telling lies?” she asked.

Lydia, Grace, and Scarlett placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do not fear Melinda.”

They took a step away from her.

Trudy stepped up toward her and hugged her tightly. “What Melinda says does come true. People call her crazy, but everything, and I mean everything, comes to fruition. There is no way to doubt her.”

Eliza looked back at the diner.

“You’re afraid?” Marsha asked.

“I’m not afraid. I guess I’m just surprised. Preston and I, it is so sudden. You know. I hadn’t even met his parents and we were engaged.”

Marsha grabbed her hand. “And that’s what makes life so thrilling. You’re meeting us now, and there’s no reason to fear. We’re all here for you. We are all rooting for you.”

Eliza smiled, but this … this was insane.

She had to talk to Melinda.

What she and Preston had was a foundation of lies. Endless lies, but none of it would lead to having a child. All Eliza saw in her future if she were to have a child with Preston was loneliness.

The kiss he’d described that morning, they’d never experienced it.

His lies were nice to hear, but that was all they were—lies.

****

“Have you thought of moving back to Westcliffe?” Roger asked as they stood outside.

Andrew and Kian were enjoying the pool, while he kept looking at his cell phone, expecting to hear from Eliza.

It was frustrating.

He hadn’t expected them to be separated, but it was his family, so he should have known straight away.

“Can we not do this while I’m here?” Preston asked. “You know it only leads to arguments.”

Roger sighed.

Their father was firing up the grill.

“Look, man, you’re the one who thinks it leads to arguments. We all worry about you. The city life is not a good place.”

“You’ve never been, so you can’t judge.”

“True, true. I guess I just miss you. It would be nice to have my big brother back. The kids miss you as well. Little Rachel doesn’t even remember what you look like.”

The pool was also full of kids. Roger’s three, Thomas, Giles, and Rachel. Kian’s daughter, Amy. Andrew’s son, Terry.

They had gotten so big. It had been four years since he last saw Terry. He hadn’t stayed long enough in town to get to know his family. Guilt flooded him.

He never intended to keep his distance. He loved his family. They were never a problem because he did love his family.

“I know I’ve been distant lately,” he said. “I don’t know, work and all that shit.” Why was he making excuses?

“You know you can do just as much work from home. There is a place at the end of the street that has come up for sale. It is a big place. Mom and Dad would love for you to return.”

Every other time, Preston would tell him to leave it be. How he had a home back in the city. They’d start arguing about how an apartment wasn’t a home, only a tiny place.

“I think I might give that a look,” he said.

Roger clapped his hands, laughing. “Holy shit, for real?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“I’ll tell Lydia. She has been complaining that this place is so freaking nice but no one will give it the time of day. I warn you, it’s got a pretty steep price.”

“Price isn’t an issue,” Preston said. “This doesn’t mean I’m moving back or anything.”

“No, but it means that Westcliffe is still in your veins, brother. You can deny it all you want. This is your home, and you know it too.” Roger gripped his shoulder tightly. Lydia was a realtor.

It was how Roger met her. He’d been hoping to move out of his home, and Lydia had shown him all the apartments in town. One date led to another, and they’d been married within six months, and pregnant by the end of the year.

Preston went over to his father. “You need any help?”

“Never come between a man and his grill, son. You know the drill.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I remember. Even when we were kids you were pretty protective of this grill.”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to protect. That’s all I’m saying.” His dad held his hands out.

It was a large grill. There were three separate iron grills, and the coals underneath were spread from extreme, to mild heat.

“The art in grilling is knowing when everything is cooked. You know the story of how I poisoned your mother the first time I got this grill.”

Preston laughed. “Yeah, I remember. She told me she wouldn’t eat a thing from you until you took a food safety course.”