Page 71 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

“Oh, no. It was great fun. But I expect a grandchild out of you eventually.”

I felt my cheeks heat.

The phone rang and Veronica peeled off to answer it. Her role in the whole ruse seemed to be minimal.

“Are you telling me you two organized this whole thing just to get Violet and me together?” I swore I saw steam come out of Mike's ears.

Mrs. O wasn't one to back down. “Yes. But you were the one who made it an engagement.”

“You were the one who made up a baby! How dare you do that to Violet.” Wow, Mike was pissed. He was standing up for me.

Goldie didn't back down either. “It was a DEFCON ONE situation. What did you expect me to do?”

Mike looked at her blankly. “Were you in the military or something because I have no idea what that means. Do you know what you put her through?” He pointed at me.

“What I went through?” It was my turn to pipe up, and redirect the conversation away from my uterus. “You're the one who started this whole thing. You could have told your mother the truth at any time.”

Both Goldie and Mrs. O had their hands on their hips. “Mom, I was doing it to protect you. To keep from hurting your feelings. But obviously you were just messing with me instead.”

Mrs. O put a hand on Mike's arm. “You don't have to protect everyone, Michael. What do you really want? Whatever it is, go for it. But do it for the right reasons, and love is definitely one of them.”

Mike ran his hand through his hair.

“What about the twins?” I asked, afraid Mike would bolt.

“Oh, they wanted you. You were the one to confirm it since you speak French,” Goldie said.

“We couldn't have asked for better helpers, unbeknownst to them. It's fun to watch a grown man be jealous of hot French twins. Even my son.” Mrs. O gave a sweet smile to Mike. “It got you to realize you love Violet.”

“Jesus, Mom.”

Mike loved me? Mrs. O could see it. I couldn't, and I assumed Mike couldn't either.

“You had to blow it and go off to New York. But you're back,” Mrs. O commented.

“Well?” Goldie just stood there and looked at Mike. Mrs. O just stood there and looked at Mike. I just stood there and looked at Mike.

Mike looked at Goldie and Mrs. O. “You two might have started this whole thing, but I'm going to finish it.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the store.

25

Mike didn't let go when we went out into the twilight. The street had a little traffic, pedestrians meandering the sidewalk on a beautiful summer night. But they all veered around us as Mike plowed through, not stopping. I had to practically run to keep up with his long legs. His truck was parallel parked on Main Street around the corner from the store. He opened the passenger door, helped me in.

When he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, I asked, “Where are we going?

He radiated anger and frustration. Not like Laurel who was definitely deranged, but like a man pushed to the edge by his mother. By himself. By life.

His hair was unkempt; he had a lovely five o'clock shadow on his jaw. He wore jeans and a white button-up. The sleeves were rolled up toward the elbows and, I had to admit, he looked mouthwateringly good. Just seeing him again made my heart pitter patter. After days of trying to work him out of my life—like a painful sliver under the skin—it was hard to stay casual, at ease.

I loved him. My heart was aching, my walls back up and guarded, and I was afraid. Afraid of what he wanted to say to me. I wasn't sure if I could handle any more words that could break my heart into even smaller pieces.

“Your house. It's closer.”

We didn't talk on the way. He might, to the outsider, look like he was intensely focused on his driving, but I knew he was thinking. Holding off on whatever was bothering him until we were in my living room.

On the way to the door, Old Man Chalmers hollered out. I gave him a distracted wave, but I wasn't going to stop and chitchat now. Mr. Chalmers enjoyed scaring off men coming to my house with his shotgun so, to avoid that with Mike, I unlocked the front door quickly.

Once inside, Mike turned to face me, pushed the door closed with a hand up high, then left it there, forcing me back against the hard wood. His body loomed, pressed into mine and I was all but cornered.

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