Page 5 of Dating Your Fake Fiance
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” I say, admiring the fitted suit that shows off his thick arms and toned shoulders.
“Shall we?” he asks, holding out his arm to me.
I loop my arm in his, and we walk towards his car parked on the street. Charlie opens the door, but before I can get in, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. It’s a pear-shaped diamond with diamond studs around it.
“I figured we’d need something believable if we want to pull this off.” He takes my left hand and slips it on my ring finger.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, looking at the ring and then up to him.
“My grandmother gave it to me before she passed.”
“I can’t wear this.” I start to pull it off, but Charlie puts his hand over mine.
“Sure, you can. If the rock on Bitsy’s finger was any indication,”
“Buffy,” I chuckle.
“Right.” He smiles. “She’d sniff out a fake if we try to pass it off as anything but the real deal.”
He’s not wrong. I’d considered this earlier but didn’t have anything that would pass the muster of Buffy and her minions when they asked to see the ring. I’d already explained away not having a ring in the bakery when she and I went over the desserts order for tonight by saying that I didn’t like to wear it while I was baking. She didn’t look convinced but didn’t question it further. Tonight, I’d planned on using the excuse that the ring needed to be resized. It was a lame excuse, but it was all I could come up with.
“It’s lovely,” I say.
“It fits perfectly.” He runs his thumb over the stone and down my finger. “I knew it would.”
CHARLIE
We drive the hour out of the city and towards Hillcrest Academy. A high-priced private boarding school that I’ve heard of but never seen in person. It looks more like a college campus than a high school. And it's suddenly apparent that there is more to the beautifully sweet baker sitting next to me.
As we turn down a long drive that leads to a sprawling colonial building, there is a break in the trees, and I can see there are a handful of other smaller structures around it that come into view the closer we get.
“This was your high school?” I ask, glancing over to Dana.
She’s staring straight ahead with a look of uneasiness written all over her face. I reach over and take her hand, pulling her out of whatever thought was going through her mind.
“Hmm?” She turns to me.
“I got you,” I tell her.
She links her fingers with mine. The movement is so effortless, her hand fitting perfectly. I have to remind myself that despite wanting this to be real, tonight isn’t real. However, that's not going to stop me from living out our Cinderella moment of making her mine, even if there is a countdown clock on it.
"My parents liked the idea of having kids for the optics of a perfect family, but when it actually came to the parenting part, they were quick to send my brother and me off to boarding schools. Seeing us during the summer and holidays were about all they could handle.”
“So they didn’t know anything about Buffy and her behavior?” I ask.
Dana explained Buffy’s nickname for her and the story of where it came from after Buffy left the bakery. I swear, there’s something about the rich that makes them even take high school bullying to a level of psychological warfare that kids in public school wouldn’t even consider.
“You’re the first person that I told about it,” she admits.
I squeeze her hand. “I’m glad you did.”
“Thank you for being here with me.”
“Anytime.”
We pull to a stop behind a line of cars waiting to drop off at the valet station. Nervous energy radiates off Dana with each inch closer we get to the door. I need to think of a way to distract her.
“Dana?”
