Page 81 of If the Ring Fits

His words pierce through me like shards of ice. My stomach churns and sinks me back into my old insecure mindset, making me suddenly feel small.

All of Adrian’s questions are valid, just as his assessment is: I’m not ready for investors pitches. Fair. But it still feels like he’s tearing apart my project, sucking away all the enthusiasm and self-assurance I had mere minutes ago.

“I… I understand,” I choke out. “I’ll work on it.”

“I can help if you need me.”

“Maybe if you could send me a list of the things I need to figure out.”

Adrian nods and we put on a movie afterward, but I don’t really follow the plot.

He said he loved the idea, yet I feel like a total failure. Because I’m clueless about where to start with his million questions. A wonderful concept is nothing without a solid plan, and I don’t have one. How will I be able to put all of this together? I lack the financial knowledge to do it. Will I have to hire someone? With what money? And how long will it take? Will the five and a half months I have left before the baby comes be enough? Could I still work on the console while caring for a newborn?

As we go to bed in our separate rooms, the doubts keep gnawing at me. I fall asleep to tired frustration and a million other unanswered questions.

Over the next several days, Adrian reverts to his old routine of working late most evenings holed up in his home office.

Doubt creeps in again from all sides, feeding on my insecurities. Did my half-baked business plan turn him off the whole concept? Does he think I’m an idiot who’s in over her head? Has he lost all interest in me?

One night that the self-doubts are keeping me awake, I padto the kitchen for a glass of water at 2a.m. But on my way back, I notice a dim glow emanating from Adrian’s office, the door slightly ajar.

Curiosity overtakes me and I push the door open all the way. Adrian is passed out in his desk chair, his head lolling onto his chest, while the blue light from his computer screen casts shadows across his face.

I hover uncertainly in the doorway, torn about whether to wake him and tell him to go to bed or let him sleep. If I leave him there like that, his neck will kill him tomorrow. I cross the room, deciding to rouse him, but then my eyes land on the screen, and I step closer to the computer to see what he’s been working on so intently.

I gasp as I read line after line of a detailed business plan for my toy console. All the data points, market research, financial estimates and projections that I fumbled to provide, are laid out meticulously in neatly organized sections.

A spreadsheet has never looked more gorgeous—or more romantic.

Adrian has filled in all the gaps, fleshing out a robust, professional-grade proposal.

All these late nights he’s been pulling, the time hiding away in his office… it was for me. To help bring my project to life, transforming it from a pie-in-the-sky dream to a viable venture. He believes in this. In me.

He’s just being a good friend, I tell myself.

But friends don’t kiss each other the way he kissed me the night of the engagement party.

An uncontrollable wave of affection floods me, so strong it nearly brings me to my knees. If he weren’t conked out in that chair, I’d throw my arms around him and smother him in kisses.

I settle for gently shaking his shoulder. “Adrian,” I whisper. “Wake up for a sec.”

“Hmm?” He blinks at me groggily, disoriented. “Sunshine? What time is it?”

“Late. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

I slip an arm around his waist and guide his sleepy, stumbling form down the hall to his bedroom. Adrian is so out of it, he’s practically sleepwalking. Together we collapse onto his mattress in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs.

He passes out again within seconds, but I linger awake, studying him. His perfect features, resting so peacefully, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I can’t resist the urge to brush back a rebellious lock of hair from his forehead to then press a hand to his chest and the steady heartbeat beyond.

Because as handsome and sexy as Adrian is, the best part of him is inside. It’s in the man who’d come to meet my ex mere weeks after knowing me. The one welcoming my friends in his house for a not-so-secret interrogation. The man taking me to doctor’s appointments for a child that is not even his. A person who, on top of an already demanding career, would pull all-nighters to help me reach my dreams.

And it’s in this quiet moment, with him sleeping next to me, that a sudden awareness strikes me: it’s not just lust that draws me to him or a passing infatuation. I’ve utterly, desperately fallen in love with my fake fiancé.

34

ADRIAN

Warmth envelops me as consciousness slowly seeps in. I draw in air, inhaling a hint of vanilla and jasmine—Rowena’s body lotion? I blink in the soft morning light, finding her curled up beside me, her head resting on my shoulder. Confusion swirls through my sleep-addled brain. How did we end up like this? In my bed? I glance down. At least we’re both fully clothed. I didn’t cross any lines last night.

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