Page 43 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

“I’m fine,” he calls back.

Maybe I should help him anyway. But if he says he’s fine, then I’m taking him at his word.

I stretch my back a little, then as George comes back in carrying a bowl of Caeser salad, I take a seat. It’s fully decked out with cubes of chicken in it and everything.

“That looks delicious,” I say admiringly.

“Don’t fill up too much on lettuce. I have plenty more,” he jokes.

When was the last time someone cooked for me? Other than Grandma, of course. What I should ask is, when was the last time a date cooked for me?

George brings out a seafood linguini and we tuck into our meal.

“How’s your day been?” I ask him. “How was work?”

He gives me a vague smile. “Fine. Long. I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I’d rather soak in your beauty.”

His lavish attention makes me blush. I duck my head, grinning into my food.

When I go to drink the wine he poured me, something bumps into my lips.

“Oh!” My eyes widen as I see the ring sitting inside.

I fish it out, worried that the wine will stain it. To my surprise, this appears to be cheap costume jewelry, not my ring.

When I look up, George is on one knee before me. He holds out a black velvet box and grins.

“Catherine Hart, will you marry me?”

I gasp and put my hands over my mouth. “Oh, George! Yes. Yes! I’ll marry you!”

I try to make myself seem happy beyond my wildest dreams.

There’s a breathlessness to my voice I don’t intend. Probably because my heart is doing weird things.

Things I don’t want it to do.

George slides the ring onto my finger, then kisses me.

My eyes slide shut, and I groan into his mouth. My fingers lace through his strawberry-blond hair, and I bring him closer to me.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “We’re being filmed.”

I snap back away from him. I’d forgotten!

George goes to the bookshelf and grabs his camera. Once it’s off, he grins at me.

“You think that’s good enough to share with family and friends?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say.

I’m still a little breathless. I put the costume ring down and unsteadily drink my wine.

“You okay?” George asks as he retakes his seat.

“Yup. We’ll just have to show it to Katherina first. She’s been asking,” I say, trying to give excuses for why I’m acting like this.

Why am I acting like this? My heart is racing, and I keep looking at the costume ring.

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