Page 4 of Fake Engagement with my Brother's Best Friend

“I’m really sorry,” she says, looking genuinely apologetic. “It seems there’s been a mix-up. We’re fully booked for the wedding party, and I don’t have any rooms available.”

The frustration bubbles up quickly, and my easygoing mood starts to sour. “So what am I supposed to do, sleep on the beach?” My tone comes out sharper than intended, but I can’t help it. I’m tired and tipsy, and the idea of not having a room is the last thing I want to deal with right now.

Grace steps up beside me, her presence a calming contrast to my rising anger. “It’s okay, Logan,” she says, her voice soothing. “You can stay in my room.”

I turn to her, surprised by the offer. “Grace, I can’t—”

She waves me off. “It’s fine. Really.” She pauses. “Uh, there’s only one bed—a king-sized bed—and no sofa, so…”

The implications of that sink in, and for a moment, I’m torn. The thought of dealing with this situation any other way seems too exhausting. Besides, the idea of spending more time with Grace—especially with how the night’s been going—isn’t exactly unappealing.

I sigh, nodding. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Grace gives me a small, tipsy smile. “I’m sure.”

There’s something in her smile, the way her eyes linger on mine, that makes my pulse quicken. The alcohol buzzing in my veins pushes my thoughts in a direction they shouldn’t go—like how close we’re standing, how soft her lips look under the glow of the hallway lights, and how much I’ve always wanted to kiss her. I shake the thought away, reminding myself that she’s Joseph’s sister. I wouldn’t cross that line… probably.

We wander down the hallway to her room, the silence between us comfortable but charged with an unspoken tension. As we reach her door, Grace fumbles with the keycard, her movements a little unsteady.

“You know,” she says, glancing up at me with a grin. “Jess thought we were engaged earlier. Apparently, because of my ring—and, I suppose, because of how we’ve been bantering with each other all night.”

I chuckle, leaning against the doorframe as she finally gets the door open. “Jess thought we were engaged? That’s a new one.”

Grace laughs softly, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Yeah, I didn’t bother correcting her. It got me thinking…”

I raise an eyebrow as we step inside the room. “Thinking what?”

She tosses her bag onto a chair and turns to face me, that mischievous glint back in her eyes. “What if we kept the ruse going? Let people think we’re engaged. It would save a lot of awkward explanations about why we’re sharing a room. You know how my family is—they’d freak out if they found out we were staying together. Especially with just one bed.”

I stare at her, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Grace, that sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

She’s not backing down, her drunken state fueling her confidence. “Think about it, Logan. It’s not like we’re actually getting married. We just need to keep up appearances for a couple of weeks, avoid any unnecessary drama, and then we can go back to our normal lives. It’s just a little white lie.”

I cross my arms, still hesitant. “It’s more than a white lie. What are people going going to think when they find out we were faking it?”

Grace shrugs, a playful smile on her lips. “We’ll deal with that after the vacation. Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve messed with each other. Consider it just another one of our games.”

I sigh again, running a hand through my hair. She has a point about the family—no way are they going to be cool with us sharing a room, even if nothing happens. Maybe there’s a part of me that likes the idea of pretending to be something more with Grace, even if it’s all a game.

“Alright,” I finally say, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “If this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming you.”

Grace beams, looking far too pleased with herself. “Deal.”

We fumble into the room, both of us laughing as she struggles with the light switch before finally getting it right. The room is nice—nothing extravagant, but spacious and comfortable, with soft lighting that gives everything a warm glow. There’s a king-sized bed against one wall, a couple of cozy armchairs near the window, and a small table next to a surprisingly well-stocked minibar.

Grace heads straight for the minibar, eyeing the selection of tiny bottles with interest. “Well, since we’re already in this mess, wemight as well make the best of it. How about one more drink to seal the deal?”

I can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. “Alright, but only if I get to mix it.”

“Fine by me, bartender,” she says with a playful wink, stepping aside to let me work.

I pull out a few bottles and start mixing something simple but nice—a classic mojito, figuring the fresh mint and lime will be refreshing after all the tequila we’ve had tonight. As I muddle the ingredients, I can feel Grace’s eyes on me, and when I glance up, she’s leaning against the counter, watching with that same amused smile.

“Since Joseph and Emily got engaged, my parents have been hounding me to find a man,” she says suddenly, her tone lighter than her words. “He’s younger, but he’s always been the traditional one. All about the good job, nuclear family and white picket fence. It’ll be nice to have them off my case for a few weeks, at least.”

I pause, looking at her more closely. There’s a hint of vulnerability in her voice, something I’m not used to seeing from Grace. She’s always been so independent, so sure of herself, that it’s easy to forget the pressure she must be under.

“Grace, you don’t need to—” I start, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

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