Page 34 of How To Fake A Fiancé

“I didn’t want you to feel blindsided. But if you feel that you need me with you, I’ll drop—”

“Stop.” She speaks softly, placing a hand on my arm. “This is not the time in your life to prioritize others before yourself. If you’re serious about her, go get her. Win her heart. Don’t let me get in the way. Not anymore. My health has been good for some time, and I’ll be surrounded by our family.”

“But—”

“No buts, Ian. For too long I’ve taken your life away from you. I took time that you could have used to settle down sooner.” She starts crying. “You’ve put your life on hold for me for so long. You need to start living your life.”

I move from the couch and kneel down in front of her. “Mom, there’s nothing to apologize for. Life happened. Your health had to come first, and I couldn’t let Katy continue to put her life on hold for me any longer.” We hug each other. The harder she squeezes, the more emotional I feel. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Can you do me a favor?”

I pull away from her embrace, taking my gaze back to her face. “Anything.”

“I’d like to meet her. Have a one-on-one with the woman that has you so determined.”

I chuckle. “Of course, Mom.”

Later that afternoon, after I finish prepping, I pull out my phone and text Kami.

Chapter Nine

Kami

Ihave no one to blame but myself. Had I told the truth, my mother would never have assumed Ian was my boyfriend, Ian wouldn’t have taken over my life, and I wouldn’t now be obligated to come home with him. But no. I had to open my mouth and tell a lie I couldn’t come back from.

There’s no way you could have known.

Maybe so, but dwelling on it isn’t going to help. Now, I need to focus on the task at hand. Ian is so distracting that I’ll need every ounce of strength and control to not let my mind wander back into the dangerous territories it has before.

I sit on the outside patio of a nearby coffee shop, enjoying my packed lunch as I think.

If there’s no getting out of this lie, the only way to go seems to be forward. Meaning—begrudgingly—I need to talk to Ian. Get to know him well enough with the time we have left before Thanksgiving week. Make it look like we’re a couple. No doubt he’d be all over that idea.

“He’s going to love my admission of defeat,” I mutter as I take another bite of my turkey sandwich.

Just then I hear my phone ding. Grabbing the device from my purse, I see it’s a text—from Ian. How ironic that in the moment I realize I have to talk to him, he texts me.

I open the message and read his text.

Care to join me at the Brick tomorrow night at eight? Let’s talk strategy ??

“It’s like he’s reading my mind,” I murmur as I start texting back.

I’ll be there.

I walk into the bar just as it’s eight o’clock the next evening, only to find the place completely empty. Huh, weird. He closed down the place early so we could talk? Interesting.

Not only is the place empty, I notice a single table for two covered in a white tablecloth. A chair on each side. Candles are the centerpiece to white plates and elegant silverware. Is this a chat…or a date?

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ian, in a black dress jacket, shirt, and pants, come into view from behind the bar and holding a bouquet of flowers. This time, stargazer lilies. The vibrancy of the pink flowers is exquisite.

“I’m glad you came.” He smiles.

If he thinks he can distract me with flowers, pretty words, and a nice dinner, he’s sorely mistaken.

I accept the flowers he hands me. As nice of a gesture as it is, I still don’t understand why he’s doing all of this. “Thanks, but…what do you want?”

“You.” He’s straightforward with the word.

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