Page 66 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

Not why does he need one, but why wouldn’t he tell me? Why wouldn’t he offer me the job?

Does he think I’m not good enough to work for him?

As I carefully search through the requirements, another thought comes to replace the first one. The truth is, I’m vastly overqualified

More than that, when I think of our last few interactions, of course, he’s not going to offer me the job. It’ll just look like a desperate attempt to keep me around.

George is better than that. He cares too deeply.

I smile softly to myself as I stare at the listing. If I asked him to give me a shot, would he? I’d be able to stay in Sandburrow, close to Grandma.

On the other hand… well, I don’t want to give him even more mixed signals.

I close my phone and fold my hands on the table.

My feelings for George have grown deeper over these last few weeks. I can see myself as his wife. If I work at his company, I suppose technically he’d be my boss. Technically, I’d still be reliant on him for money.

But I’d be helping him build his business in a way that I know how. That way, I wouldn’t feel as though I was a burden, while still being able to do the work I love.

Before I get ahead of myself, though, I probably ought to talk to him about all of this.

I touch my lips, considering our last kiss. The one we shared before he told me he loves me.

Love.

He loves me.

My breath catches in my throat. Even though I still doubt whether he really knows me enough, the truth of those words hits me.

George Callahan loves me.

He really loves me.

He has no alternative motives. It’s not about his parents. It’s not about my reputation. It’s just about him and me.

I call his phone, but he doesn’t answer. He’s probably working.

It goes to voicemail, but I can’t think of what to say, so I only hang up again. Then, feeling like I’m floating through the air, I head for my car. Maybe I can wait at his place until he’s off work.

We need to talk. But I have a feeling it’s going to be a very good talk.

A hundred different things I might possibly say to him run through my mind.

The drive back is tedious, and I have to remind myself several times that going over the speed limit won’t bring George back home sooner.

I go to town first and grab what I need to make him dinner. That will help make my feelings clear, right?

After I’ve paid for the groceries, I start to doubt myself. I told him I needed time—I told him not to wait.

Won’t this back and forth be upsetting for him? What if he thinks—

“No,” I tell myself firmly. “He won’t think anything other than I’ve figured myself out. And I have. Because I love George Callahan.”

Saying it out loud, even to myself, sends a thrill through me. My heart starts to beat even faster.

At thirty-four, you’d think I would have fallen in love before now.

Maybe I have, but I can’t think of a time when I recognized that’s what I was feeling.

---