Page 15 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

George frowns. “You don’t want your mother or sister to attend?”

Mentioning them makes me wince. “Your parents. My grandmother. We can have a barbeque on the beach after for a wider group.”

“Alright. I can agree to that. But I think we’re waiting until we have a house we can move into before we’re getting married.”

I grimace. “And where is this?”

“There’s a place nearby for sale.”

“I’m not living in Sandburrow. I can’t even pretend,” I groan, shaking my head. “We’re getting a place in the city.”

“I have no job in the city.”

I fold my arms. “Okay. How about this. We’re getting two places. One here in town, one in the city. That way, we can both be close to our work.”

George nods slowly. “That gives us more time. We’ll say that I’m buying a place here, and you’re paying for a house in the city.”

“Apartment. We don’t have time for the maintenance of a whole other house, and apartments are easier to rent out when we start having kids,” I say absently.

George raises both his eyebrows. “Oh? And when are we going to start having kids?”

I flush. “Um…”

“How about two years?

“That’s way too soon!” I object. “I still have my career and—and this isn’t real.”

George’s eyes twinkle. “That’s right. It’s not real. We’ll play the engagement for a few months, as long as it needs to go, and then we’ll have a breakup. We’ll keep it classy. Just say that we realized that we’re not in the right place for marriage or something.”

I climb onto the rock and sit with my feet dangling in the tidal pool.

Even though it’s a turbulent time of life, the smell of the sea and the repetitive rush of water is calming.

I have to admit, even if Sandburrow was the backdrop of my most angsty teenage drama… it’s peaceful.

Sometimes peace might feel boring.

Right now, it seems exactly what I need.

It’s been quite a while since I enjoyed a slower pace. With my work, I’m always having to race for the next thing. Trends to keep up with, futures to predict. Always a mountain of work that needs to be done.

But right now, it feels like that lazy, easy feeling right when you wake up. Before the responsibilities of the day start to make themselves known.

“Before we get any further, you should know about my parents,” George says, breaking me from my thoughts.

I give him a small smile. “I know your parents.”

“They can be difficult to deal with.”

“If I can handle my mother, I can handle your parents.”

He grimaces. “They have a very difficult time with boundaries. My mom is constantly rearranging my things or replacing stuff I buy. My dad has no filter and insists he’s always right.”

“Ahh. I see. So you’re concerned I won’t be able to handle them?”

“I’m concerned that they’ll bombard you with inappropriate questions and bulldoze any boundaries you try to put into place,” he answers.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re playing this fake engagement. Sounds like you need a few lessons in raising your parents,” I joke.

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