Page 90 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
I won't lie, I'm impressed myself.
I didn't expect her to go this far. To give up something so rare and precious just to make this ruse more convincing? She didn't need to. I meant what I said—I don't need my parents to like her. I only need them to believe this engagement.
This feels like overkill. Is she really trying this hard just to win our bet? Or is there more to it?
I wouldn't have wanted her to do it if I'd known beforehand.
That said, it's working. My mother looks genuinely thrown and can't maintain her usual frosty composure.
"I truly don't know what to say," Mom murmurs. "I don't think I can keep this, dear."
"No, please. I'd be offended if you gave it back."
"But we've only just met. It's too much for a dinner gift."
"I don't think so. We've only just met, but we'll be getting to know each other very well over the years."
"Yes, but I don't think?—"
"Just take it," my father cuts in. "I'm tired of standing here, and I'm hungry enough to eat an elephant."
Mom shoots him a brief glare before addressing Jenna with a reluctant but genuine smile.
"Thank you," my mother says. "It's a very thoughtful gift."
"It's nothing compared to what you're giving me," Jenna smiles, glancing lovingly at me and even managing a slight blush. My God, what an actress. No one watching her could possibly think she's anything but a doting fiancée. Seems I picked well when I chose Jenna Marlowe to pretend to get engaged to.
Did I pick too well?
My parents lead the way into the dining room, and I slide an arm around her waist, drawing her closer.
"A-plus," I whisper in her ear when my parents are too far ahead to hear.
She winks. "You haven't seen anything yet. By the time the night's over, she'll be eating out of my hand."
I raise an eyebrow. "It'll take more than a bracelet to pull that off."
"Just watch and learn."
I suppress a grin and brush my lips against hers before we step into the elaborate dining room—one reserved only for special occasions like this.
I pull out Jenna's chair for her, watching the effortless grace with which she moves before taking my own seat beside her. I no longer have any doubt she'll handle herself beautifully tonight.
The thing I like most about Jenna is how confident she seems—and how well she balances kindness with backbone. She has this rare ability to be polite and gracious without ever coming across as a pushover. She knows when to let things slide and when to dig in.
For example, my mother makes a snide comment about the colors of Jenna's outfit clashing, and instead of snapping back,Jenna just smiles and says, "You're probably right, Mrs. Wolfe, but I like the combination." Conversation over.
Another time, my mother brings up Jenna's auburn hair and suggests she'd look better as a blonde. Jenna replies, "You could be right—it's an interesting idea. But I was born with red hair, as was my mother and grandmother. I got teased for it in middle school, of course—you know what girls can be like at that age—but it's part of my family heritage, and I like to keep it that way. Heritage is important to preserve, don't you think?"
And of course, my mother does think so—so she has nothing to argue with.
Steph bursts in just before the first course is served, flinging open the dining room door and making exactly the kind of dramatic entrance she lives for. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic."
"By traffic, she means shopping," I mutter.
Steph shoots me the middle finger, earning a sharp "Stephanie!" from my mother.
"Sorry, Mommy dearest. Force of habit. Anyway, he deserves it." She gives Mom and Dad quick hugs before bouncing around the table to greet Jenna. "Hey, sister-to-be! It's so nice to see you again."
