Page 19 of Knot Really Engaged
“There’s no time for nonsense.” He throws a hoodie at me. “Put that on, grab your purse, and step into a pair of shoes. We’re going to try to leave the place without anyone noticing you.”
I catch the hoodie, my reflexes still sluggish from sleep. I raise an eyebrow at him, my lips twisting into a wry smile. “Because it’s so easy to getpast all that extended family scattered around, and our mother.”
“Just do as I say.”
Once I do what he instructed, I let him pull me along, his grip firm and insistent on my arm. My feet stumble across the worn carpet, still half-stuck in dreamland and wholly unprepared for whatever disaster awaits.
Max leads me down the hallway, his strides long and hurried. I have to jog to keep up with him. What is it with men and always walking like something is chasing them? “Max, slow down. What’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer and just tugs me down the hallway with the kind of grim determination usually reserved for action heroes or people who run marathons for fun. We pass by framed photos of us as kids, memories of a simpler time before we come to a stop outside his childhood room—the place where he and his friends planned most of their infamous pranks.
I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. “Whatever this is, it better be good,” I warn, rubbing at the sleep still clinging to my eyelids. But the playful tone falls flat against the gravity in Max’s steps, the tension radiating off him in waves.
“Trust me, you’re gonna want to sit down for this one.” His hand rests on the doorknob. I can seethe muscles in his jaw working. It’s like he’s in the middle of a mission, and I’m in serious need of rescue. “No, actually. You’ll be begging me to save you from this one.”
Max’s grip on the doorknob tightens, his knuckles blanching a shade paler than the walls. Before I can protest, he thrusts the door open, and we spill into his room. The space is cramped with trophies, posters, and other junk he’s never going to take to his place. It’s a time capsule of his childhood. Everything, including the mess is still here.
“We’re heading outside through the window,” he says, his voice low and urgent. He strides over, pushing it open with a grunt.
I balk, my eyes widening in disbelief. “I’m not jumping out of there. I prefer to use the door—like a normal person.”
“This is your only way out,” Max insists, turning to face me. His expression is deadly serious, his brow furrowed in determination. “Mom is not happy with you—you got engaged without her blessing. And where are the fucking pictures?”
“What pictures?” I ask a little miffed about the last question.
“Your engagement pictures. She’s asking for them,” he sounds demanding.
“There’s no way she’s?—”
“But she is,” he interrupts me.
I groan, burying my face in my hands. Of course. Of course, my mother would be more concerned about the lack of photographic evidence than the fact that I’m apparently engaged to a man I’ve barely spoken to in years. Not that they know that. What do they know?
“This was a bad idea,” I mumble.
“Ya think,” Max says exasperated.
“Max, I can’t just run away from this,” I say, my voice muffled by my fingers. “I have to face it head-on, explain what’s really going on.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “And how do you think that’s going to go over? ‘Hey, Mom, sorry for the confusion, but Liam and I are just pretending to be engaged to make his sick grandmother happy.’ Yeah, that’ll go over really well.”
I wince, knowing he’s right. There’s no easy way out of this, no simple solution that won’t leave someone hurt or disappointed.
I hate that he’s right, but . . . “I don’t know how I’m going to handle it. They weren’t supposed to know until I figured all this out.” My hands are shaking, my palms sweaty as I pace back and forth in the cramped space of Max’s room. I can feel my heart racing, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. This is a disaster, a full-blown catastrophe that I have no idea how to fix.
“See, that’s why you need to jump,” he says, hisvoice calm and steady. He gestures to the window, his expression serious.
When I approach the window, Liam is waiting for me on the other side. I can’t help but stare, my eyes roaming over his tall frame, taking in the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, the way his jeans hug his lean hips.
He looks like something out of a magazine, all tousled hair and chiseled jawline. For a moment, I forget how to breathe, my mouth going dry at the sight of him.
But then I catch Max’s eye, see the way he’s watching me with a knowing smirk, and I snap out of it. I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. “This is crazy.”
“Not as crazy as accepting to marry him,” Max mutters, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
I shoot him a glare, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “It’s not real.”
“Tell that to Mom,” he says, his tone dry and sarcastic.
