Page 60 of How To Fake A Fiancé

“It’s my mom’s ring.”

She pauses. “You’re giving me your mom’s ring? Why would you do that?”

“Relax, it’s only temporary, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Her face turns slightly crestfallen. Why would she be upset? I thought she’d be relieved at knowing in the end the piece of jewelry won’t be hers. Am I reading her wrong?

“Why, do you want to see it?”

“Call me curious.”

“Curious or not, if you want the proposal to look real, I think your reaction needs to be genuine.”

She slowly nods. “You’re right. That would make sense.”

Our plan is simple, and I’ll do as she asks, yet I can’t help but wish everything we’re about to do is real rather than pretend.

Chapter Eighteen

Kami

“It’s the next house on the right,” I instruct Ian as he drives through the neighborhood I grew up in. Dated ranch-style homes dating back to the nineties cover the stretch of land. This place hasn’t changed at all. I feel like I’ve gone back in time.

Memories of me riding my bike to and from school come to the forefront of my mind. The summers Sofia and I’d run to the ice cream truck with my babysitting money. Moments in time that were so minuscule in my life, yet they now come to the surface, giving me a sense of bittersweet nostalgia.

But with sweet comes the sour as the sad and painful memories come up, too. The multiple times I did whatever I could to shield my little sister from watching my mother’s poor decisions come to fruition. The nights I’d lay in my bed enraged at my mother’s disregard for our feelings. Emotions like anger and resentment toward my mother that had been long dormant now come back up to the surface and threaten to burst.

“You okay?” Ian’s voice pulls me back to reality. He reaches out his free hand to hold mine. It’s a small gesture, yet it calms the raging fire inside me.

I take a deep breath, then exhale. “Yeah. It’s been…a while since I’ve been back here.”

I’ve never had anything against the town I grew up in. In fact, as I’ve gotten older, I appreciate the quiet more. I think I even miss it.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

Too much. I feel too damn much. “Okay.”

“It must be nerve-racking.” He wouldn’t be wrong.

“Something like that.”

As Ian pulls up to the house, I see two cars in the driveway. Everyone else must be here already. Good, then I can kill two birds with one stone and give both my ridiculous sister and mother a proverbial smack upside the head.

I take a good look at the house that I once begrudgingly called home. The house where so much heartbreak was felt. I’d rather be working overtime than be here.

The red-bricked house looks well taken care of. The off-white garage door seems to have been recently power-washed, while a small garden adjacent to the front door is lush with pink and purple flowers that complement the green shrubbery.

Good, the place could use a bit of color.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Ian steps out of the truck. Doing the same, I stand at the bottom of the driveway, staring at the white door.

If I could turn back now, I would.

With our bags in each hand, Ian stands next to me. His gaze goes to the house at first, then to me. Instead of asking if I’m okay or trying to encourage me to go to the front door, he just stands beside me in silence for long, silent moments.

“I just need a minute.” I feel this need to rationalize to him why I’m not moving right now.

“I get it. Take your time.” His support is just what I need to muster up the courage and take the first step up the driveway.

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