Page 102 of The Fiance Dilemma

“Check what I wrote,” he said instead.

I glanced at him. Chest swelling. He made a face, as if he wasn’t backing down until I looked. As if we had all night. I returned my eyes to the phone.

“I’m marrying this girl,”I read out loud.

Something inside me stumbled at my words.

Something crystallized in his eyes in return. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge. I shouldn’t need to read anything into it. We’d beenengagedby then. This was his soft launch text.Hey, here’s the girl. And by the way? I’m marrying her.

His family was coming to Green Oak, and he was marrying me, if the setup at the Vasquezes’ Farm was any indication. If the last weeks were too. If this whole thing none of us was stopping was.

Matthew cleared his throat. “My sisters have been, respectfully, worried I kidnapped the beautiful girl in the picture and tricked—or paid—her into smiling for the camera. They requested video proof, theblink once for yes and twice for also yeskind. You can see. It’s all there.”

I wasn’t going to check. I didn’t need receipts. He didn’t owe me anything. But I appreciated him immensely for trying to convince me that I had any right. So I brought the device up. And instead ofreading the messages, I studied the picture again. We looked so… genuine. We always had. “I think it’s because you’re staring at my boobs like you haven’t had a meal in a week.”

“They’re great boobs.”

“It’s the yoga top.”

“It’s definitely the boobs. I’m a tits-and-ass man. And yours are beautiful. You are. I would—”

“I digress.” A small smile parted my two growingly heated cheeks. “Why didn’t you say something that day at the lodge?”

Matthew let out a strange breath. “Sit with me? I know we’re already pushing the clock, but I want you to enjoy tonight. I don’t want you to be thinking about shit that’s weighing you down because I made a selfish decision. Otherwise I’ll never get that first kiss that keeps eluding me.”

“We already kissed,” I countered.

“I thought I was clear when I said that wasn’t our first kiss,” he said, and when he tugged at my hand, I went with him without a complaint.

Soon, it was me guiding him, leading him to my bed. And I realized in that moment, that it was the first time he’d been here. The first time he was seeing where I slept, the dresser at the corner, the wallpaper on one wall, and a big yellow sun on the opposite one. It was the first time he saw me, sitting on my light-blue duvet in a dress I’d picked thinking of him.

I angled my body toward him.

I like him in my space. I love the way he looks at me from his spot on my bed.

“You look very handsome tonight,” I said. And I could tell from his smile that he hadn’t expected that. “I didn’t say anything before, and I should have. I got caught up in you being silly, because I like it a little too much. I likeyoua little too much.”

Even thoughlikedidn’t seem the right word.

Matthew made a face. One that told me he was changing his mind. No talking. More touching. I clasped his hands.

“I’m sitting,” I told him. “Like you asked. And I don’t mind being late. But you should start talking because I really like you here, in my room. And if you don’t distract me from that thought, we might besuperlate. Instead of fashionably so.”

He was frowning now. Debating. I tugged at his sleeve with my fingers. “My family doesn’t know about my job,” he let out with an exhale. “My parents don’t know I was fired. Or that I moved here to Green Oak. They think I am still in Chicago, and everything’s the same.”

I nodded, processing his words.

“My sisters think I’m using up vacation days and finally ‘frolicking’ like I used to. I don’t know what Eve means most of the time, by the way. I never frolicked. Not since college, at least.”

I didn’t doubt that for a second. Matthew was thoughtful and dedicated. He could be far more serious than most people gave him credit for, me included. It made me wonder if he was maybe trying to keep that side of him from his sisters. Maybe even from his parents. His friends. The world. “Why didn’t you tell them?” I asked him. “It sounds like you have a good relationship with them.”

“Would you believe it if I said that I don’t know? I…” he trailed off, eyes leaving mine and falling somewhere to his left. “A part of me didn’t want them to worry or make a fuss. I’ve always had a job, even in high school. College. I accepted the first good offer that fell on my lap fresh off graduation day.”

That sounded like him. He was a worrier as much as he tried not to appear as one. “Maybe that was why,” I offered. “You were always independent. And perhaps you didn’t like losing that too.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Or maybe I felt like I was failing everyone. That I was disappointing them.” He sighed. “Fuck, maybe it’s all the same thing.”

“But you did a good thing, Matthew,” I insisted, not liking the way his mouth had turned down. “You stood up for your friends. How could they not be proud of you for that?”

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