Page 16 of Faking the Rules

It's a plausible explanation, but not the truth. And something in Richard's expression suggests he knows there's more to the story.

"Surely there were closer options than Westford," he presses. "Family connections here? Or perhaps... personal reasons for the sudden change?"

The deliberate probe makes my cheeks heat. He's fishing, looking for something to discredit me, to prove I'm not good enough for his son—even in this fake relationship.

"Dad," Declan's voice carries a warning edge. "That's enough."

"Just making conversation," Richard says with false innocence. "Getting to know your... girlfriend."

The pause before "girlfriend" is deliberate, designed to undermine. I feel Declan's body go rigid beside me, tension radiating from him like heat.

"I ended an engagement," I say before Declan can respond, my voice calmer than I feel. "My fiancé cheated with my cousin. Rather than stay and deal with the fallout, I chose to make a clean break. Westford offered the best combination of academic opportunity and distance."

The table falls silent at my blunt disclosure. Caroline looks sympathetic, the Gordons uncomfortable, Richard surprised at my candor, as if he was hoping to embarrass me. But I’m not embarrassed by what happened. I didn’t do anything wrong. James did.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Elizabeth says finally. "How difficult for you."

"It was," I acknowledge. "But ultimately clarifying. Better to discover someone's true character before marriage than after."

Declan's hand finds mine again under the table, his thumb tracing small circles against my palm—a gesture of comfort that grounds me, steadies me.

"Well, we're certainly glad the circumstances brought you to Westford," Caroline says, shooting her husband a quelling look. "And into Declan's life."

Richard opens his mouth as if to pursue the topic further, but Caroline stands, effectively cutting him off. "Shall we move to the sitting room for coffee?"

The rest of the evening passes in more general conversation, the sharp edges of Richard's interrogation blunted by Caroline's skillful social navigation. Throughout, Declan remains close—his hand on mine, his arm around my shoulders, small touches that feel less like performance and more like genuine connection.

By the time we say our goodbyes, I'm emotionally exhausted but oddly triumphant. I survived dinner with the Wolfe family. More than survived—held my own against Richard's subtle hostility.

The drive back to campus is quiet at first, both of us processing the evening. Finally, Declan breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry about my father," he says, his voice tight with residual anger. "The questioning, the veiled insults. He had no right."

"It's okay," I reassure him. "I've dealt with worse."

"It's not okay." His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "He was testing you, looking for weakness, for reasons to disapprove."

"And did I pass?" I ask, only half-joking.

Declan glances at me, his expression softening. "With flying colors. You were amazing in there, Ellie. Most people crumble under his scrutiny."

The praise warms me, though I try not to show how much it matters. "I'm not most people."

"No," he agrees, his voice dropping to a register that sends a shiver through me. "You're definitely not."

We lapse into silence again, but it's comfortable now, the shared experience creating a new intimacy between us. When we reach my dorm, Declan parks but makes no move to get out.

"Thank you," he says, turning to face me properly. "For tonight. For all of it."

"Part of the arrangement," I remind him, though the words sound hollow even to my own ears.

His eyes search mine in the dim light of the car. "Is that all this really is? An arrangement?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us has been brave enough to voice. My heart hammers against my ribs as I try to formulate a response that won't reveal how confused my feelings have become.

I'm saved from answering by a sharp knock on my window. I turn to find a face I haven't seen in months—one I never expected to see again—peering through the glass.

James. My ex-fiancé. Here at Westford.

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