Page 65 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

Dad frowns at me. “Don’t you talk to your mother in that tone.”

“Give me the key,” I repeat, remembering the one thing Catherine told me. Don’t engage. Right now, my emotions are boiling over the top.

I need to get my space back.

Mom huffs as she hands over the key. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I’ll bet your fiancé won’t like to know how you’re treating your mother.”

“Catherine and I aren’t engaged,” I snap. “I don’t have a fiancé. Now please leave.”

“But our food—”

I pull a fifty-dollar bill from my pocket. “You can go to a restaurant. Please leave.”

They shuffle out. I close and lock the door after them.

The smell of roast makes my stomach curdle with guilt. Yet there’s relief in there, too.

I close my eyes. My emotions are clearly too high to reach out to Catherine now.

So I’ll wait.

In the meantime, I need to take care of this food and clean up the many dishes left in my kitchen. And start coming up with a way that I can set boundaries with my parents so that this sort of situation doesn’t arise again.

Chapter eighteen

Catherine

The apartments in the city are… nice.

At one point in my life, I’d be thrilled to have the opportunity to live in such a sleek, modern space. Now it just feels cold and devoid of all character.

After the last disappointing viewing, I drive my car to a park. It’s tiny and the tall buildings all around me feel suffocating. I long for the open beach and ocean stretching as far as the eye can see.

This is what I wanted, though. I wanted a job in the city, a modern place to live, and all the excitement the city has to offer.

My shoulders slump as I watch a handful of pigeons strutting around.

I miss the sound of the ocean with its rhythm. Here, there’s just a steady background hum of vehicles.

Maybe there are new job listings. Ones that can be remote, or at least hybrid.

I pull my phone from my pocket and start to scroll through job listings. I’ve searched through them so often that I don’t expect to see anything.

My fingers pause as a new listing catches my eye.

Social media manager for a construction company.

My heart jumps to my throat.

Is this…?

My eyes land on the location.

Sandburrow.

I tap the listing. As the details load onto my phone, I’m left staring in shock. This is for George’s company. He’s looking for a social media manager.

Why?

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