RING ME: A Fake Fiancé Romance

by Flite, Nora

  “Did he hurt you?” Conner asked, looking at Ben, talking to me.

  “Just get him out of here.”

  “Did he hurt you,” he rasped louder.

  “She's fine!” Ben snapped. “I didn't do anything! I was being nice! I carried her food up five sets of stairs for her!”

  I tried to catch my breath—I was hyperventilating. “Please, just throw him out. I don't want to see him anymore.”

  “You heard her, put me down! Fuck! What are you doing?” Ben struggled as Conner manhandled him to the open front door. I saw motion out there; some residents had come to see what the commotion was about.

  Conner brought Ben closer to him, ignoring how he was still swinging about, trying to get free. “If you come anywhere near Maya again, I'll make sure you can never climb another set of stairs in your life.”

  Without anymore fanfare, he threw Ben into the hallway. I heard my ex grunt angrily, the crowd gasping, before Conner slammed the door and cut us off from the drama.

  I stared in disbelief as he marched my way. How was this possible? Had he heard my screams across town, read my mind, sensed I was in danger? Why was he here? Why... why was I so lucky?

  He crouched, but instead of hugging me or checking me for injuries, he scooped Ariel into his hands. “Get a glass of water,” he instructed. I hurried to do so. Handing him the glass, I breathed a sob of relief when my fish plopped inside, swimming in a rapid circle, but looking healthy.

  “Are you really okay?” he asked me.

  Unable to sum up an answer in words, I threw myself into his arms, hugging his solid chest like I needed to confirm this wasn't all in my head. “I'm so happy to see you, Conner!” I was fighting back tears. The last of my adrenaline left my body; I hung limp in his grip, wrung out like a dish cloth. “If you hadn't shown up...”

  “Shh shh. You're safe now.”

  I believed him.

  Chapter 21

  Past Scars

  AFTER HE HELPED ME clear the glass and dry the floor, and put two bandages on my palm for the tiny cuts, we sat together on my couch. The food I'd ordered was still warm; I quietly shared it with him.

  There was one plastic fork, and neither of us went to fetch one from my kitchen, so I fed him a bite for each of my two. We didn't do much talking until the last few noodles were soaking in the sauce puddles at the bottom of the box.

  Conner pushed it aside, opening his arms to me. It was a relief to climb into his lap, his biceps wedging me against his body.

  I couldn't resist asking any longer. “What made you come here?”

  “I had to see you.”

  “But you didn't even text me. Not a word since... since we...”

  “I know,” he said miserably. “I can't begin to tell you how hard it was to resist calling you. I came close every single hour. I barely slept, Maya. There were so many things I needed to tell you. Things that couldn't be said on the phone.”

  My fingernail trailed over some of the ink on his arm. “Is that why you deleted the app.”

  He tensed under me. “You noticed.”

  “I was thinking about you a lot, too.”

  Conner let out a slow breath, his limbs enclosing my body rigidly. “After what happened, I couldn't handle having the app around. I deleted it immediately, probably before you got back to your place.”

  “So here we are. Days later.” I looked at the tendons in his forearm as I spoke. I worried if I saw his expression, his emotions, I'd forget that we were broken up. He saved me today, but that didn't fix what he'd done. “You wanted to talk in person. This is your chance. Talk.”

  “Maya, I couldn't handle leaving things the way we did. I know that hearing the truth about everything isn't enough to fix the way I hurt you.” Once more he squeezed me, like he was aching for a response; I gave him nothing. “You might never forgive me. But telling you my side of the story... you deserve to know.”

  His heart thudded through his chest against my ear. I shut my eyes and listened.

  “Do you remember when I told you I didn't like exes?” he asked.

  “Mn.”

  “I wasn't trying to be funny.” He brushed a hand over my hair absently. “You aren't the first woman I've been engaged to.”

  I bolted upright to stare at him. “What?”

  “Two years ago.” He wasn't smiling. I couldn't read his expression, it was flat as paper. “Her name was Delani. We dated for five years. And then... a month after I proposed... she cheated on me with her ex.”

  My eyes bulged. “Oh my god. That's terrible.”

  “It was,” he agreed, laughing bitterly. “In retrospect I should have seen it coming. I'd tried not to be jealous of him, always gave them both the benefit of the doubt. She asked him to be her Man of Honor at our wedding. I remember talking to my mom about that, and she just laughed and told me Delani always walked her own path, what did I expect?”

  It had been some time since he'd mentioned his mom to me.

  He paused before speaking again. “That was one of the last things we talked about, the wedding. I'd been looking at venues and was chatting with Mom about ideas. Delani hated everything I'd looked at—that's how I knew what it would cost to rent the Annie May.”

  “She hated the Annie May?” I really didn't understand this girl.

  Conner gathered himself, his voice hoarse. “Mom's stroke happened while I was home, sleeping soundly on printed out wedding paperwork, unaware her life had just been snuffed out. I remember the phone call vividly. Her neighbor had found her the next morning and called the cops, who called me, and...” He cleared his throat. “Delani had a work trip out of town, so she couldn't come to the funeral. I didn't want to guilt her into ending her plans for me, and I think I was still in denial, not really believing my mom was gone, so I went by myself.”

  “I can't believe she didn't go to the funeral,” I mumbled. “Was her job that important?”

  He gave me a bemused look. “Funny thing about that. When I got back, I went to her place. I was a mess. Anxious, needing to do something besides sit with my thoughts. We hadn't moved in together yet. She wanted to wait until after the wedding. Anyway, she had this loose bed-frame she always complained about. I was going to fix it as a surprise.

  “I used my spare key to get in. Then I heard her moaning, and the bed squeaking so damn loudly, before I saw her naked with her ex. She was right. The bed-frame did need to be fixed.”

  My hand covered my mouth. “Conner, I'm so sorry.” I smoothed my palms over his jaw until he focused on me. “No one deserves to be hurt like that.”

  He grabbed my wrists gently, his tone getting more serious. “Exactly. That's why I need to come clean to you.”

  “You didn't cheat on me.”

  “I still broke your heart. Let me finish, I have to get this all out.” He closed his eyes, face contorting in pain. “Between losing my mom, then losing the woman I thought was my soul mate, I was a mess. I refused to see anyone—not even people I'd once called my friends. I let her keep everyone in our network. I didn't explain why we split, I uprooted overnight, blocking everyone because I knew I couldn't survive seeing her face or hearing her name. The risk alone was debilitating.”

  That's why he said he had no friends! I knew he wasn't an introvert.

  “I was so hurt. Every part of me felt like a raw, gaping wound, and the idea of letting anyone close again was like someone poking straight into that cut until I screamed.”

  His heart, pressed to my cheek, was drumming erratically. Telling me this was torture for him. I was sure I was the first to hear his story in such detail.

  He said, “I moved into the nicest place that was available in Nashville. When you saw it, you said it was too big. I think there was a part of me that wanted to show my worth through my money, because what else did I have to offer? Certainly not my heart, that was in tatters,” he chuckled morbidly. “I needed an escape from my thoughts. I devoted myself to my work. Even then, I couldn't get awa
y from the emotional damage... why else would I decide to make a dating app? I wanted to help people connect with someone so perfect, there'd be no reason to cheat.

  “I did two things for three months straight—worked out at the gym, and mashed away at my program. I put more effort into that algorithm than anything else I've ever made. I trusted it. Believed in it!”

  His chest lifted; he held his breath.

  “Conner?” I asked warily.

  “I believed in it one million percent... until you.” He covered his mouth, stifling a brief, pained chuckle. “I was logged into my Master User account—the one that let's me bug test and see everything on the backend. Like I said before, I was just grabbing whatever new accounts were there to make sure things were functioning. You'd just signed up, that put you in my net. I read your bio... I saw your profile photo... everything you put out there caught my eye, Maya.

  “You accused me of peeling back the curtain and snooping on your private info, but I didn't. I didn't have to. It wasn't your body or your kinks that had me wanting to talk to you, it was what you wrote. Your energy had such a pull. I had to message you.” His fingers wrapped around my hair a little too tight—like he was reliving the moment he decided he needed me.

  I winced, and he let go. “It's okay. Tell me the rest.”

  Conner nodded like a man resigned to the gallows. “When I logged into my normal user account, I couldn't see your profile. The program I'd designed so perfectly? It decided we weren't a match. I didn't get it. I couldn't accept it!”

  I remembered him telling me that RingMe had never matched us. I felt his frustration as he detailed the hours of work he'd poured into the code, only to have it block him from connecting with me.

  “I hacked the code,” he said miserably. “I forced our profiles to match. I'm sorry, I feel terrible for doing that, but I just... I knew I had to talk to you! There you were, through this wall of glass, a perfectly amazing human being and I couldn't even say hello! It was maddening! I hadn't felt a pull towards anyone since...” He didn't say her name, he didn't have to. “How could I accept the rules I'd designed?”

  “So you didn't,” I said. “You just did what you wanted.”

  He was shaking all over. His arms left me, a huge hand covering his face, but I saw his grimace between his fingers. “I had to tell you. Now you know, and if it's not enough to fix us, I get it. I'm so sorry, Maya. Sorry I made you doubt me, because I swear, all this time, I never looked behind the curtain. Not once.”

  Sitting in his lap, I studied the muscled beast of a man as he fell apart. His grief was tangible, to the point I waited for him to begin crying. How much was he forcing himself not to shed a tear? Wasn't that agony?

  I set my fingertips onto his wrist lightly. “You should have told me from the beginning.”

  “You're right,” he growled. “I know. I was terrified you'd do exactly what you did, because how could you not? Why would anyone trust that I wasn't abusing a system I already admitted to abusing?”

  “I think... most people... wouldn't believe you,” I said. Conner's shaking began to slow. “But I do.”

  His arms slid from his face. The edges of his blue eyes were red with regret. “Why would you...”

  “The number of times you asked me to tell you about myself. Favorite color, favorite food, what kind of dates I like. We talked so many times before we met up, and always, it was you trying to learn more about me. Why would you bother if you could just crack open the code and see the answers?”

  His mouth was slightly open. His arms were noodles on his thighs. Together, we both realized I was straddling him so intimately that our blood had warmed to the same temperature; hot with expectation. Lowering my head I kissed him before he could kiss me. Conner wove his grip into my hair, holding me steady, not ready—not willing—to let me go.

  Finally I leaned away, my heart thudding in my throat. He kept his hold on my hair. “I love you,” I blurted, smiling helplessly, blushing like a virgin at prom. “How could I not trust that you feel the same?”

  “Maya,” he groaned, crushing me in his embrace. My lips were sore from his within minutes. “I love you, too, I really do. Please forgive me, let me have another chance to show I'm not done learning about you. Inside, outside, in between... I'd give anything to know who you are.”

  I laughed so happily that I started to hiccup. Wiping my eyes, I let him ease me off his lap so he could get me a tissue. Cleaning my tears away, I looked up at Conner with a flood of new, intense emotions. “I have something else to tell you. Good news, actually.”

  “What is it?”

  “My grandfather showed me his will. My mother has nothing to worry about. That means we don't have to get married, isn't that great?”

  His eyebrows lowered a bit.

  “I mean,” I pressed on, “We can do what we want. Our choice. No pressure.”

  He angled his head down, like he was brooding on something. “Yeah. That's good. We should have been free to make our choices from the start, it's good we can now.”

  “Right, exactly.” I smiled extra hard because for some reason he wasn't. What was wrong? Had I been too blunt, ruined the moment? “Conner, are you okay?”

  “I will be. In a minute.” Clearing his throat, he pushed the table of food out of the way with his foot. Then he knelt on the circular white rug in front of me. “Maya?”

  All of the oxygen flew from my lungs. My voice cracked. “Yeah?”

  The box—the same velvet box—was pulled from his pocket. He held it between us and he didn't need to open it for me to know what was inside. “Conner, no, didn't you hear me? We don't have to do a fake marriage anymore!”

  “I heard you.”

  “We can date and get to know each other, like you said!”

  “Yeah.”

  “So... so why are you...”

  “Because,” he chuckled, his voice coating me like warm wax. He popped open the box; the ring glittered brilliantly. “I'm free to make my choice. And I choose to ask the most beautiful, funny, smart, talented, driven woman I have ever been lucky enough to know... to marry me. For real this time.”

  There was pad thai on my chin. Band-aids on my palms. I looked a right mess in my pajamas. This scene was a far cry from the coordinated moment at an ice cream stand with an audience.

  But sitting there on my couch, with Conner kneeling in front of me, ring box cupped like a fragile flower, I thought... I thought the moment couldn't be more perfect.

  Holding his face, I kissed him until we were unified in our need for air. We suffered to keep our mouths sealed together. “Yes,” I gushed, staring into his eager eyes. “Yes and yes and yes.”

  “No safe word this time?”

  I put my lips to his and laughed. “From here on out, that stuff is for the bedroom only.”

  “I love you, Maya.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Conner pulled me on top of him, stretching beneath me on the floor. I felt him fidgeting with the box, never taking his eyes off mine as he guided the ring onto my finger.

  It was back where it belonged.

  Chapter 22

  Marry the Real Me

  “ARE YOU SURE IT LOOKS okay?” I couldn't hide the nerves in my voice. Pressing my palms down my ribs, my belly, to my hips, I looked at Aubrey in the mirror. She stood behind me, her eyes glossy. I spun, holding up my hands in dismay. “Ah! No! Don't cry, bad friend! Bad!”

  “I'm sorry! But you're so gorgeous!” she sobbed, fingers masking her mouth. Her words came out muffled. “He's going to faint. Oh my god.” Inflating with joy, I held out my arms. Aubrey took my cue and hugged me roughly. “I hate how perfect you look as a bride!”

  Laughing, I gave her a squeeze. “Thanks.”

  “Let me get your mom. She'll want to help with your veil.”

  Nodding, I stood there, left alone with nothing but my thoughts. I had plenty of those. It's really happening. The year had passed quickly. Planning the wedding ha
d been easy, thanks to Conner being so involved. He'd actually suggested we send new invitations and have the ceremony sooner, but I'd been a hard no on the last part.

  We'd settled for sending proper physical RSVPs to all five hundred people. I'd had Aubrey help design those, to her delight. And, to my delight, only seventy of the original people had said they were able to come to my wedding.

  The Gibraldi group were among them. They'd been overjoyed with how their event had gone. Summer Heat was booked for the next year. I'd given Aubrey a promotion, too. No longer my assistant, she was my business partner.

  It let me breathe easier to have someone taking charge.

  And... she still did thoughtful assistant things, like deliver cupcakes to my desk when I was moody. Or when she made a mistake.

  “Maya,” my mom gasped. I spun, catching her shock, her joy, and when I tried to tell her not to cry, it came out as a choked little noise. Tears rolled down my cheeks. She clasped me in her arms, laughing through her happy sniffles. “Don't mess up your makeup! You look like an angel.”

  “I don't know about...” I trailed off, straining to listen to the odd shouting that was coming through the walls. “What's all that noise?” I asked with a frown.

  “Stay here, I'll check,” Aubrey said. I would have stayed put, except when she opened the door, the noise—the voice—became clear as day.

  “Don't touch me!” Ben yelled. “I'm a guest, I was invited to this sham!”

  My stomach dipped straight down to my feet. “Who is that?” My mom asked, blinking at me. “Is that... is it Ben? Why is he here?”

  “Because he's not done trying to ruin my life,” I said. Hiking my wedding dress around my ankles, I started out the door. My mother called after me, grabbing my arm. I didn't stop—I walked out onto the boat. My changing room was the bottom deck. From there, I was able to look out through the wide-open sides of the boat where the railing circled to keep people from falling over into the water.