The Fake Engagement

The image of the broken condom flashed in his mind. There hadn’t been any way to tell her about that.

He rubbed at his eyes.

Even though he didn’t want to believe it, he knew a woman could get pregnant from that breakage.

“Are you okay?” Roger asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you know when Eliza is going to return?” Preston asked.

Just then, Juliet came running toward him. “Er, we kind of need you.”

He climbed out of the pool and followed Juliet toward the front of the house.

Eliza was curled up in a ball on his parents’ front lawn. The white summer dress she wore had ridden up her thighs.

Mackenzie sat with her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Er, a few too many tequila shots, and a whole load of confessions,” Juliet said. “If her parents see her like this, they’re going to be pissed. They didn’t raise an alcoholic.”

Eliza rolled over. “I’m not an alcoholic, but Preston is going to hate me when he has to marry me.” She smiled up at him. “Aren’t you, baby?”

He smiled.

A drunk Eliza was very cute. “Did someone have fun today?”

“I drank lots. Shh, don’t tell my mommy. She will be so pissed.” The last world was drawled out long.

He chuckled. “Come on, then, we better get you upstairs.”

“He’s good in bed,” Eliza said, screaming out the words.

Juliet and Mackenzie sniggered.

“The list works. Preston,” she said. “You are my ideal man. Will you marry me?” she asked.

He smirked. As he lifted her into his arms, she sighed and pressed her head against his chest. “You feel so warm and snuggly.”

He loved the feel of her in his arms.

Carrying her across the field, he left Juliet and Mackenzie behind and carried her through the house to head upstairs.

At one point, she started singing a song he didn’t recognize out of tune.

“I’ve been a bad girl,” she said, covering her face.

He kicked their door closed and lowered Eliza to the bed.

“So you think I’m good in bed?” he asked.

“And a good kisser.” She got to her feet and started to sway. “Do you dance?” She moved her hips left then right. “I love to dance. I want to dance.”

Preston grabbed her hips when she seemed to sway a little too far left and right. He didn’t want her falling to the floor. “I’ve got you.”

“Are we going to get married?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I never get drunk like this.” She pressed her face against his chest.

Running his hands up and down her back, he tried to calm her. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m going to be sick.”

She ran away from him, and he caught up to her, immediately pulling her hair back so she wouldn’t vomit on it.

Eliza threw up in the toilet. “Not good. So not good.”

He rubbed her back and kept her hair out of the way.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. “I’m drunk at your parents’.” She groaned. “I’m setting a bad example. They’re going to hate me.”

“No, my parents adore you.”

“They adore our fakeness.” She threw up some more, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s okay. Get it all out.”

“Wow, this is disgusting. Why do people get drunk again?” she asked.

“Because they enjoy the experience of getting drunk, just not all the aftermath. That part sucks.”

She chuckled. “Sometimes you sound like a nerd.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I was one.”

She snorted. “Yeah, and now look at you. You’re the hot businessman all the women are fighting over.”

“You think I’m hot?” he asked.

“Oh, please, you know I do. Ugh, this is so gross. You can never talk about this with anyone. I swear you to secrecy.”

“What? About how you can’t handle your liquor?” he asked, still rubbing her back.

She groaned again. “I’m barring myself from ever drinking again. That’s it. I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever … ugh, I think I’m going to be sick.” She spewed up more.

He kept rubbing her back, trying to soothe her as she puked into the toilet. This was certainly a new experience for him.

“Never… drinking… again,” she said. “It’s the devil.”

Preston stayed with her as she got herself together.

After going toward the bathtub, he started to fill it with water and bubbles for her to have a nice, long soak.

“What are you doing?” Eliza asked.

“You’re going to take a bath, then I’m putting you to bed. At best tomorrow, you have a killer headache. At worst, you will still be throwing your guts up, and I’m not handling my parents, your parents, and your friends alone.”

“Sissy,” she said.

He chuckled, moving toward her. “You know, even looking disheveled and a little worse for wear, you’re still fucking beautiful.”

She tilted her head back and he saw the merest hint of a smile playing across her lips. “You think I’m beautiful?”