Page 71 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

“Hold up,” Catherine is quick to say. “I never said I was sleeping.”

I sigh as I shake my head. “Sorry. I guess I’m just thinking too much about… everything.”

“I have a lot to think about, too.” Catherine sounds exhausted. “So much that I can’t sleep.”

If we both couldn’t sleep anyway… “I’m at the new house. I can come over to talk if you want. We can have a sleepover in the treehouse like we did when we were kids.”

“Sure. See you soon.”

I grab the sleeping bag and pillow, feeling a little off-kilter. I quickly make my way to Lynn’s place. A warm light glows in the treehouse.

One of the upper windows opens as I get out of the truck.

Lynn pops her head through. She frowns at me. “Where’s the fire?”

“No fire,” I call back. “Cat and I just needed to talk.”

“Ah, I see. Well, be good. And if you can’t be good, name it after me.”

“Grandma,” Catherine’s protest is distant, coming from the treehouse.

Lynn cackles as she closes her window again.

I make my way to the treehouse.

It’s a bit too small for two full-grown adults. An electric lantern hangs from the low ceiling. I’m pleased to see thatCatherine has the foresight to bring out a bunch of extra blankets, which she has used to build a soft nest beneath us.

“Hey,” she greets, her voice soft and shy.

“Hey.”

Is it just Lynn’s joke that’s making me feel awkward now?

“So. My application.” Catherine clears her throat. “I sent it on purpose. So much has happened today. It’s made me realize a few things and I had to apply before I could convince myself not to.”

Concern washes through me. “What happened?”

She explains her realization in the city, followed by the confrontation with my parents, and finally, what happened with her mother.

By the time she’s done, my mind is reeling.

“I told my parents we broke up last night,” I admit, running a hand through my strawberry-blond hair. I explain what happened. “I’m sorry for using you as a reason to be short with them.”

Catherine takes my hand. “We haven’t exactly treated our fake engagement with the respect it deserves, have we?”’

I snort. “I suppose not. But when you saw them, they were dropping off an apology letter.”

“That’s progress,” she says.

“And I’m going to make sure my mother apologizes to you, too,” I tell her, a steely note in my voice.

Catherine squeezes my hand gently. “I’d appreciate that. I don’t expect anything will come of it, though.”

“I do. My parents didn’t raise me to own up to my mistakes just for them to be hypocrites.” If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I can be far more insistent when someone else’s feelings are on the line.

Catherine nods, though she still looks a little doubtful.

I turn her hand over, tracing my fingertips over the lines in her palm. “And what about this application? I thought you didn’t want to stay in Sandburrow.”

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