We finished dishing up dinner and took our now almost-familiar positions opposite each other around my dining table.
“This feels . . . nice,” she said. “Unless you want me to turn the light up?”
The candlelight was romantic. Perfect for a proposal, even if it was a fake one.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day about your trust fund,” I said. “And how you want access so you can use the money for your charities.”
Her eyes brightened and it was like sunshine through stained glass. It lit her up. “You have an idea? I’ve spoken to lawyers but they always tell me the same thing—the rules can’t be changed.”
“I think we should get married.”
Her fork was midway between her bowl and her mouth and she froze, staring at me as if she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard me right.
“You know,” I said. “So you can get access to your trust.” In my head, I knew that she knew this wasn’t a real proposal. But I just wanted to make doubly sure.
She was knocked out of her suspended animation like a stuck record that had been freed, and she grinned. “Really? Tristan? You’ll marry me for ninety days?”
Warmth burrowed into my stomach at seeing her so happy.
“Sure. No big deal, right?”
“What about you not wanting to upset Arthur?”
I shrugged. “Like you said, I’m going to be his son-in-law. How will that upset him?” To distract her from any potential pitfalls, I pulled out the ring box from my pocket and slid it onto the table between us. “I figured you’re going to need a ring if we’re going to pull this off.”
“You got a ring?” Her eyes grew large. She seemed momentarily hypnotized by the box. “I could have gotten a ring.”
“I think that’s normally the groom’s job.”
She pulled in a big breath and shook her head. “I can’t believe it. All that money—just think of all the things we’re going to be able to do, Tristan. It’s going to be amazing for all those families.”
She hadn’t asked to see the ring and I had a twinge of regret that it wasn’t important to her. But of course she was focused on her charity. After all, that was the reason we were getting married.
“I hope so,” I said.
“I guarantee it. There’s going to be so much good I can do.” She glanced at the box. “I know it’s not real and everything, but can I see the ring?”
A tightness in my chest loosened. “Of course. I bought it for you.”
She smiled and I opened the box for her to see.
She flattened her palm against her cheek and sighed. “It’s beautiful, Tristan. Really beautiful. And . . .” She glanced at me. “If I was going to pick out an engagement ring, this would be the exact ring that I would choose. It’s . . . it’s perfect. It’s completely believable that this is something I’d wear.”
I bloody knew it.
“Try it on,” I said.
“I suppose I could. To see if it fits at least.”
Tentatively, she reached for the ring and slid it on. This was a fake proposal—she knew it and I knew it—but there was an unexpected gravity to the moment that took me by surprise. Whether or not we were in love, the woman opposite was going to be my wife.
“It looks beautiful on you,” I said.
A sweep of red tinged her cheeks. “I suppose we should start to discuss logistics,” she said as she slipped the ring off her finger and put it back in the box.
I frowned. “You should keep it on. We’re engaged now.”
The corners of her mouth twitched like she wasn’t sure whether I was joking, but she put the ring back on. “As far as I’m concerned, the sooner we can sign those papers, the better.”
“You’re thinking we should elope?” I asked, turning my attention back to the stew.
She sighed. “I wish. But we can’t. My mother and father eloped and it caused shockwaves in the family. My grandmother didn’t speak to my mother for years after their wedding. My mother made me promise that I’d never do anything like that again.”
“Okay. No elopement. But we can say we don’t want a big wedding, right? Your parents don’t get to choose that.”
“Absolutely. And I agree that the fewer people we lie to, the better.”
“I’m going to have to figure out what to do with my parents. I don’t think they would be understanding about our ruse, which means I’m going to have to lie to them. I don’t feel great about it but I don’t see another way.”
“Okay,” she said. “That makes sense. The fewer people who know, the better. The key people we need to convince are my parents and the trustees. But it needs to look like a real wedding.”
“It’s going to be a real wedding,” I said. “Which means you’re going to have to move in here. Seeing as you’re here already, and we’re going to get married as soon as possible, you might as well stay.”