Page 11 of The Fiance Dilemma

“That’s all right,” I croaked with a wave of my hand. Surely, I couldn’t be hurt by that. I was being ridiculous and the sinking in my stomach meant nothing. “It took me all of three seconds to know it was you,” I continued, watching his face fall. “Which is okay. It really is. I’m just really good with faces. Plus there was all the…” I pointed at myself. “You know. Algae extract and jam situation goingon. So I wouldn’t expect you to spot me in the distance, with only a streetlamp around, and be like, hey, that’s Josie Moore right there. We don’t even know each other that well. I mean, who does that?”

Me,that was who.

But that didn’t matter now.

Matthew hesitated, as if at a loss, but then he said, “I’m sorry.”

I let out a snort. “What for? There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I blinked at the new emotion entering his face and decided it was time. Now. Time to stop tiptoeing around this thing. I inhaled. Exhaled. Then said,“Ithinkweshouldjustdoit.”

Matthew frowned.

“We should finish what we started and pretend it’s you,” I explained, lifting my hand. “The one who put this on my finger.”

Matthew’s mouth hung open for an instant. Then he said,“What?”

“Let’s pretend we’re engaged,” I told him, my skin heating under the cardigan. “Just like we did at the porch. Bobbi bought it. She thought it was real. Real enough to leave. Which was the goal. She said it would fix the problem. The PR crisis that I was telling you about? I can get into the details, but your face is doing a really weird thing.” It wasn’t moving. Not a muscle in his body was. “Are you going to faint again?”

“No.”

“Good. Great.” I smiled a little, relieved. “So—”

“No,” he repeated. His Adam’s apple bobbed.“No.”

“No?” I asked. “Those are a lot of nos and I only asked one question.”

A strange sound left his throat. “We’re not doing anything. We’re not—” He stopped himself. “We’re not pretending we’re engaged. No.” His back straightened, face serious. “Absolutely not, sweetheart.”

I frowned.“Sweetheart?”

He shot me a look.

“But—”

“No,” he said a fourth time. His voice softened. “I can’t do it.”

I squared my shoulders too. “We could talk about it. Discuss. Do a pros and cons list. Whatever you need to—”

“I can’t,” he interjected.

My shoulders sunk. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“Does it matter? Point is: what you’re suggesting is crazy. Tonight was a fun anecdote I’m sure will make Cam and Adalyn holler with laughter. But we’re not…” His throat worked. “Playing engaged. I’ve just gotten here.”

That quick, albeit sharp, pang of hurt returned. “It’d be for a little while, I’m sure. Just to weather the storm. She only mentioned a splashy announcement. So we could hear Bobbi out and then, we reassess.”

He laughed again but it was dark. Humorless. Bitter. “Do you realize how crazy this thing you’re suggesting is? How ludicrous?”

Now that actually stung. “Well, from every single story Adalyn has told me about you, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing you’ve done. You’re pretty ludicrous yourself, you know that?”

Matthew didn’t seem bothered by the accusation. “Well, this is not a college party where you’re daring me to stroll naked down campus, sweetheart. This is marriage. A wedding. The ring of some man on your finger.”

Again with the nakedness. And the sweetheart. “It’s not marriage. It’s an engagement,” I corrected. “And it’s fake. We’re not getting married-married.”

Matthew’s mouth bent in a… disbelieving smile. It wasn’t a nice smile, and I didn’t think he realized the face he was making at me. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I… can’t even think straight.” He stood up, and I had to tip my head back to look at him. “I should probably get to the lodge. I—”

A truck-like sound filled the kitchen, bringing Matthew’s words to a stop.

We both turned toward the source, finding Grandpa Moe sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away. His head dangled back, mouth wide open, a tower of grilled sandwiches on a plate in front of him. He was snoring.

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