Page 74 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

“Thank you,” I say.

We hang up.

I turn back to George.

There’s a careful smile on his face.

“They’re offering me fully remote work,” I exclaim. “I could live here in Sandburrow and still work for them.”

“That’s excellent,” George says, nodding.

Oh. My eyes widen. I forgot entirely about applying for his social media job. I sink back to the table.

“I wouldn’t be able to do that job, your job, and volunteer at the museum.” The excitement I felt moments ago drains away. “Thinking about it, I won’t have much time to volunteer at the museum even. They’ll keep me very busy.”

George takes both of my hands in his. “If you’ll remember, I never formally offered you the job anyway.”

I search his eyes, uncertain. But when he grins, I know he’s teasing.

I relax. “Like I told them, I’m going to have to think about it. The paycheck is certainly tempting, but there does come a point where more money isn’t actually useful.”

“Take your time to consider what you want. I will hire you if you want the job.” He winks at me. “But you need to decide what will be best for you. Our relationship isn’t dependent on what job you work. Or even where you live.”

Gratitude swells through me. I lean forward, kissing him gently.

“I love you,” I say.

The words are sweet on my tongue.

George grins and nods.

He looks so silly that I have to giggle.

“Don’t laugh,” he says, his grin widening further. “That’s the first time you’ve said you love me.”

“Is it? No! I must have said it last night.” My eyes widen in horror.

I didn’t.

“I love you,” I repeat. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

The door opens as I lean over and plant a kiss on George’s mouth.

“Ugh!” Katherina lets out a dramatic wail. She covers her eyes. “Not in the kitchen.”

“Oh, Kitty.” I roll my eyes while laughing. “No more kissing, I promise.”

Katherina wrinkles her nose as she inches in, peeking suspiciously through her fingers.

“Are we painting more this morning?” she asks. She hurries to grab some breakfast, and her eyes light up.

Apparently, she’s over the PDA already.

“Not this morning,” George says, shaking his head. “Catherine and I have some stuff we need to take care of.”

“What sort of stuff? Can I come?”

“Not this time.” George ruffles her hair. “It’s boring adult stuff, like talking to my parents.”

---