by Lee, Nadia
Oh my. I’m…his? I blink, not recalling that he said anything like that at all. But then, I was panicked and freaked out, so I probably just blanked it.
He shifts his weight in his seat, running a hand across his jaw. “And I meant you were my assistant, in case you’re wondering.” Sighing, he presses his forehead against a corner of his phone, his eyes closed.
Right, I tell myself as I try to rein in fluttery emotions and ignore a vague and annoying sensation that feels suspiciously like disappointment. Except I can’t be disappointed. David couldn’t have meant it like I was his his.
But isn’t this better than people thinking you’re engaged to Warren?
The thought brings me up short. Well, yes. Yes, it is.
And isn’t it better for David, especially when his ex lied about your relationship with Warren? He has to know she’s scheming to get him back, no matter what it takes.
A fake engagement would stop my dad from trying to get me to marry Warren. Or bringing up how mental illness runs on my mom’s side of the family, and how I’m likely to develop it too…because…well…genetics and science and all that.
I’d love that level of peace. An end to the reminders of an ugly possible future.
Actually, according to your dad, you are going to go crazy. It’s just a matter of time.
“Do you want to go for it?” I blurt out.
David lifts his head and looks at me blankly. “Go for what?”
“This, um, particular misunderstanding. We could be, you know. Fake engaged.” I don’t even know where this recklessness is coming from. This isn’t like me, but somehow fortified by M&M’s and my post-adrenaline and -panic state, I’m saying the most ludicrous idea I’ve ever had because it sounds like the thing to try.
David goes quiet. Too quiet.
As the silence stretches, my stomach starts feeling queasy. I pop more M&M’s like antacids. Maybe I should take it back…?
“Did you like him?” David asks suddenly.
“Who?”
“Fordham.”
“Uh, no,” I say before I can consider a different response. As always when it comes to Warren and my past. “Our being together was sort of…expected. It’s hard to explain, but everyone in my town thought we’d end up getting married.” The rumors and expectations were stoked by my dad as well. Then I realize I should come as clean as possible. It’s only fair that I give David some disclosure as to what he’s getting into. “My father is the mayor of Saintsville.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s a small town in Virginia. He wants to be a state senator, and he thinks the upcoming special election—for Warren’s dad’s former seat—is his chance. He wants to use me to leverage Warren’s popularity.” Then I pause, unsure how to explain the rest, the whole sympathy factor thing. But that makes me sound so pathetic that I can’t tell David.
It’s terribly important he doesn’t pity me.
The battle of emotions on David’s face ceases. He leans back in his chair, a couple of fingers on his chin as he thinks.
I let him. He doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s like this. While he ponders, the rest of the M&M’s disappear into my belly. I wonder if the dev team’s going to be mad if I filch another bag from their stash.
David’s one of the most creative people at Sweet Darlings, Inc. He wouldn’t have risen so fast in marketing otherwise. His grandmother might be in charge of the company, but she doesn’t tolerate incompetence or play favorites. Her reputation for fairness is stellar.
But he’s also one of the sanest people. That’s why he knows exactly how to walk the fine line between creative and mainstream. None of his ads or campaigns have ever hit a wrong note with the public.
Right now, he’s probably silent because he’s stunned at my audacity. A fake engagement is pretty extreme. Crazy, even.
Shit. Does he think I’m losing my mind? Impulsive and erratic behavior is a sign, in my experience. Mom was so weird back then, just bursting into tears or ranting incoherently.
“Actually, forget what I said. I was just thinking out loud. It’s not like you owe me anything because I went to your auction on Saturday.” Wait. That sounds like I am expecting him to pay me back. So I add, “I’m your assistant. It’s my job to make your life easier.”
“Yeah, but I pulled you into this, so…” He hesitates for a second. “I feel like you should know exactly what you’re getting into just by proposing it.” He clears his throat. “It’s embarrassing and personal, but… I’ll just lay it out and hope you’ll be discreet. Not even my mother knows the whole story.”
Okay, this is a shock. David is trusting me with his most private life, which means our relationship is shifting from professional to…something more. I swallow a sudden lump in my throat, touched that he thinks I’m worthy of such high esteem.
“Shelly and I have known each other a long time. Our moms are close friends. Really close. And later we started dating.”
I knew some of this already. Shelly told me about their dating history when she ranted about first come, first served.
David continues in a flat tone, “We dated for five years. Then she decided to take a job in Seattle without saying a word about it to me. When I told her I couldn’t just quit my work at Sweet Darlings and move to the other end of the country, she got angry. Accused me of holding her back and left. In retrospect, I think she thought I’d panic and follow her if she gave me an ultimatum.”
I wince. That had to have been a terrible idea. David is nice, but he definitely isn’t a pushover—there’s a difference. Nobody can make him to do anything, especially with something as absurd as an ultimatum. I’m surprised she didn’t know that after so many years.
“But now she’s back,” I say.
He shrugs. “There can’t be anything between me and Shelly.”
“She wants you again, though. For real.” He might change his mind if he understood she’s genuine about having another chance with him. It’s very likely he has some feelings for her after having dated her for half a decade.
“Yeah?” His lips twist into a sardonic line. “Well, she shouldn’t have slept her way into the job if she ever thought she might want us to be together again. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”
I gasp, outrage exploding like a bomb. How dare she! And she had the gall to claim David was hers?
“She quit her job and moved to L.A. My mom would like to see us get back together, but that’s not going to happen.”
“Doesn’t your mother care that she’s a two-timing bitch?” Otherwise, I’m going to be very disappointed in Mrs. Darling.
He laughs humorlessly. “Like I said, she doesn’t know everything.”
Oh, that’s right. “Why don’t you want to tell her?”
“Because.” He sighs. “It’s going to affect her relationship with Mrs. Morris. Shelly’s mom. When my family first moved to Virginia, Mom had trouble making friends. Mrs. Morris was the one who made the first overture, and…they’ve been close ever since. I don’t want what happened between me and Shelly to influence Mom’s relationship with Mrs. Morris. She shouldn’t have to lose a friend because of it.”
Warm admiration slowly unfurls in my heart. It’s so sweet and considerate of him to put his mother’s needs ahead of his own. But then, his mom is also the type to do the same for him, so…
My chest aches as I think of my own mother. She would’ve been like David’s. She always told me she was on Team Erin. She stood up to Dad countless times when she thought he was being unfair.
“So if we do this, Shelly’s probably going to give up,” I say. It’s one thing to throw an “I want you back” tantrum to a guy with a girlfriend, but another to do it to a guy with a fiancée.
“Yes. And Fordham will too.” David narrows his eyes.
Why am I getting the feeling that that’s more important than repelling Shelly?
He continues, “Even if he didn’t re
veal your identity, there’s nothing that says he isn’t hoping to use the situation to his advantage.”
“That’s true. But how long should we keep up the pretense?”
“Three months?” David shrugs. “Maybe a little longer? Until all this blows over, and Shelly and Fordham both give up.”
Three months feels like…a while. On the other hand, Dad is going to keep on with his importuning until the special election is over…and maybe even after. Maybe three months will be about right. The election will be over by then, and he’ll have one fewer reason to bug me. Hopefully.
But there’s another matter. “What about your…um…ladies? Like, your girlfriends.”
He looks at me in surprise. “What about them?”
“Are you going to see them during our, you know…our fake engagement?” I know it’s unrealistic to expect him to give up that part of his life. David is incredibly social, and lots of women flit in and out of his life.
But the idea of him with other women during the three months bothers me anyway. I know we aren’t talking about a real relationship, but it’d still be humiliating if he “cheated” and got caught on camera.
At the same time, I feel a little ridiculous. I’m the one who came up with this outrageous plan. I shouldn’t expect him to sacrifice.
His expression softens, and he starts to reach for my hand, then changes his mind and pats my shoulder. “All this is happening because I asked you to bail me out of a situation. I promise I won’t do anything to embarrass or hurt you.”
I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Okay, then,” David says. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Fifteen
David
What the hell were you thinking? The voice in my head sounds like some unholy Greek-chorus combination of Derek, Trent and Matt.
Nothing, except that Erin sounded logical. And that her proposal would solve both our problems. Three months isn’t that long, and I want to show Shelly that she can scheme until her head spins but nothing’s going to work. That includes talking to the media and confronting Erin.
And Fordham is a bonus.
Really? He isn’t the main reason?
Of course not. It’ll also get Mom off my back for a while. She needs to understand that I have long-term options other than Shelly.
Besides, the arrangement is for my own good. I don’t want Erin distracted. Distractions can tank productivity. I wasn’t myself for a couple of months after I broke up with Shelly two years ago.
I check with security again, just in case, and they assure me that the garage is still clear. I text Kathleen—my fashion model cousin—for help checking Erin’s place out, because she has contacts for people who manage this sort of thing. Reporters are probably swarming around her apartment like ants over honey, and if so, I need to make a plan to accommodate Erin. Kathleen agrees without asking any questions. She might’ve already seen the coverage.
Erin and I step into an empty elevator car. As we descend, Erin clears her throat. “So. Now what?” she asks.
I have zero firsthand knowledge about fake engagements or being hounded by the tabloids, but I’m not about to admit to that. How hard can it be to figure it out, anyway? Can’t be more complicated than launching a multimillion-dollar marketing campaign.
“First off, we should get you a ring.” That’s usually the initial step.
“Oh.” She looks down.
Her hands are slim and delicate, the fingers long, pretty…and ringless. I realize I’ve never seen her with jewelry other than earrings. She deserves something special—worthy of my “she’s mine” declaration. And I know exactly where to go.
“Right.” She clears her throat again. “Won’t look believable otherwise.”
“Exactly.” She looks at me like I should continue telling her the rest of what we need to do. Since I’m making things up, I add, “And go from there.”
“Okay.” She’s quiet for a moment. “We don’t have to live together or anything, do we?”
My heart skips a beat. I didn’t even think about that, but… It’s a big step. Shelly’s the only woman I’ve ever lived with. The memory makes me want to tug at my collar. Damn, I was an idiot back then.
“Do you want to?” I ask carefully.
“No.”
For some reason, the answer bugs me. It’s logical for her to not want to give up her space when it’s only for a few months. But she doesn’t have to act like I asked her if she’d like to dance nude at the company’s Christmas party.
“Then we don’t have to.” My voice is stiffer than I’d like. The voice of graciousness.
“Okay. And I’m not expected to quit my job or anything, right? I mean, I have to work.”
I frown at the way she says it, like she’s worried about becoming a streetwalker to make ends meet. Doesn’t she know by now that I would never fire her or let anything like that happen to her?
I wish I could open her head and look inside. Just to see what’s going on behind those wide blue eyes.
“Nothing has to change, Erin. Unless you’re tired of seeing my mug from Monday to Friday, you’re always going to be my assistant.”
“Thanks.” She gives me the first genuine smile since this debacle started. And the simmering tension in my shoulders and gut eases a notch.
“There’s one more thing,” Erin says. “I remember reading an article about some companies having anti-fraternization policies. Does Sweet Darlings? HR gave me a folder with the company’s standard operating procedures and policies, but I, um, haven’t read it other than the section on benefits.” She says it like she’s confessing to some humiliating deed.
I snort. “I doubt it. And even if there is, I don’t think anybody cares.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, Jan and Matt hooked up while working for the company. And before you ask, yes, Grandma knew about it.”
“Maybe they asked her for permission first.”
“Ha! They didn’t. Trust me, I know. Matt didn’t bother to ask until he was certain Jan was the woman for him. Anyway, don’t worry about it. Grandma is too fair to apply rules selectively. And while she did used to be ambivalent about interoffice dating, she’s loosened up since Jan and Matt got married.”
She sighs like a great burden has been lifted. “Okay.”
The elevator opens, revealing the gray concrete garage. I keep my finger on the button just in case we need to go back up, but the parking structure is dead. Empty of people. Just a few vehicles here and there.
“Where’s your car?” I ask.
“Over there.” She jerks a thumb behind her. “I should probably take it. Make things easier.”
True. She wants to feel as independent and normal as possible, and that obviously includes driving her own car. We can take the west exit, which is on the opposite side of the building from the lobby, and make a loop a couple of blocks later to evade the media.
“Let me text you the jeweler’s address,” I say, pulling out my phone.
“My phone broke during the whole…melee outside. I dropped it.” She sighs. “I’ll just follow you.”
“Okay,” I say, hiding the annoyance bubbling inside again. I should’ve anticipated what Shelly would do. It’s just…I don’t remember her being this crazy. Or did I just not notice back then because I was an idiotically indulgent boyfriend?
I make a mental note to pay for Erin’s new phone. All this crap happened because I asked her to come to the auction as my date, so I feel partially responsible for her loss. I climb into the Lamborghini, then wait for Erin to bring her Corolla around.
I lead the way, careful not to lose her. I yield when I don’t have to. And I even manfully restrain myself from whipping around a driver who’s crawling along like an arthritic octogenarian tortoise.
Masako Hayashi’s boutique finally comes into view. It’s one of the most exclusive jewelers in the country, and when I thought I was in love with Shelly, I was planning to commission a s
pecial piece from Hayashi herself for the proposal.
The ridiculous irony that I’m about to buy a ring for my assistant whom I’m fake engaged to isn’t lost on me. Still, Erin deserves nothing less. I tell myself everyone will expect something grand on her finger, and try to ignore the niggling feeling that I myself want to place something exquisite on it.
I pull into the lot and kill the engine, then exit the car. Erin parks next to me and climbs out.
She looks at the entrance. “Are you sure this is where you want to buy a ring?” she asks, biting her lower lip. “This place looks expensive, and it’s just for three months.”
I try not to laugh at how adorably stingy she’s being. “Yeah, but nobody’s going to believe us if I get you one from just anywhere. Masako Hayashi makes some of the best pieces around. We don’t have time to get custom work done, but we should be able to find something suitable.”
Erin hesitates, then nods. “Okay, but nothing too expensive.”
“You should be working in accounting,” I tease. The new head of accounting, who started two months ago, is a capital C cheapskate. If he could, he’d replace all our break room snacks with Walmart-clearance stuff.
She flushes. “I’m just watching out for you. That’s my job.” Her voice is extra prim.
Does she know how cute she is when she uses that tone? The thought surprises me. I’ve never looked at her that way. Or, at least, I’ve tried not to. I’ve never been too crazy about interoffice dating. And I never had a reason to regard anybody from work that way because I was with Shelly, and I take fidelity seriously. After we broke up, I spent the last two years playing the field—the whole field, as though I was trying to make up for all the women I didn’t get to bang due to being faithful to one who didn’t deserve it. But even then I excluded coworkers from the pool of rebound candidates.
Has the decision to pretend that Erin and I are engaged destroyed my professional filter? Am I going to start having inappropriate thoughts about her?
“What?” Erin asks, when I’m quiet for too long. “Are you seriously thinking about moving me to accounting?” A thread of anxiety runs in her voice.
