The Fake Out: Chapter 29

Yes, it could.

“Please tell me you aren’t wearing that shirt to dinner,” I said, catching a glimpse of Iris in my bedroom mirror where I was attempting to apply makeup with a mostly shaky hand.

To say I was not ready for tonight was like saying the Atlantic Ocean was a mudpuddle. But Chris had insisted.

“It has to happen,” he’d said, and no amount of arguing or bartering on my part was going to change his mind.

Iris glanced down at her shirt. “What’s wrong with this?”

On a normal day, I wouldn’t say a word about her t-shirt, the one that read Dead Inside in bold white lettering. But today was not a normal day, and that was saying a lot after what had been a few weeks of really not-normal days.

I met her eyes in the mirror, saw the mulish set of her jaw, and decided it wasn’t worth the battle. “You know what? Wear it. I don’t care.”

“Not that I needed your permission,” she muttered as she skulked out of the room.

After brushing on one last coat of mascara, I pulled on the black pencil skirt and a dark green shirt with shoulder cutouts and three-quarter sleeves. I slapped on a necklace and earrings and slid into a pair of strappy black flats. I took a few steps back and inspected myself in the mirror. Aside from the panic in my eyes, I thought it was a decent enough outfit.

After all, if a woman’s lucky, she’ll only get fake-engaged once in her life and she’ll want to look her best when it happens.

In the living room, Mama and Sue were sitting on the couch, Mama in a yellow and cream dress and Sue in what she called her “fancy” khakis.

With too much nervous energy, I paced. Adjusted a couple of rabbit figurines. Straightened a picture on the wall. Thought about getting in my car and not stopping until I hit the Mexican border. “Where’s Iris?”

“Right here.” She shuffled in from the kitchen, glass of Kool-Aid in hand. “What the hell is with you? You’re freaking out.”

“Iris,” Mama said, a warning in her voice.

“Oh, come on.” She stuck a fist on a hip. “I can’t say hell? Seriously?”

“Hell is a gateway word that leads to other more serious words, and I would prefer you didn’t use it in this house.”

“A gateway word? Geez. Wait, is geez okay? It could lead to things like gosh darn it and that’s one step away fro—”

“Young lady…” Mama said in her “do not mess with me” voice.

I was almost glad when Chris knocked on the door. Almost. My heart rate tripled. I flipped around to face all three of them.

“I am not freaking out,” I snapped in a very freaked-out way. Closing my eyes, I took two deep breaths. “Everything is fine.”

When I yanked open the door, I was met by the largest, most vibrant bouquet of flowers I had ever seen.

“Those are gorgeous,” Mama breathed from behind me. “Move, Mae, let him in.”

The arrangement barely fit through the door, but Chris managed it. He set it on the coffee table, right in between a rabbit candy dish and a tabletop book called Bunnies in Action, and brushed his hands off on his khakis. He’d dressed up for this occasion too—a dark-blue button-down shirt and a tie.

“Not a single rose in sight. I told them to put in one of every flower they had but no roses.”

“They’re beautiful.” Smiling, I touched a bright-yellow gerbera daisy. “Thank you.”

Without any warning, he wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me to his side. I tried to keep a respectable distance between us, but it was no use. It was either hold on or fall on my backside. I was a sensible woman; I held on.

Chris grinned. “Nailed it. Didn’t I?”

Stealthily, I tried to pry myself from under his arm. His hold on me tightened as though he’d anticipated my attempt. I briefly thought about slamming my foot down on his, but, to be honest, my heart wasn’t in it. There was something calming about the weight of his arm and the steady rhythm of his heart under my ear. And it was all part of the plan. We were supposed to be in love.

I pushed up and kissed his cheek. “You did great.”

Iris groaned. “Gross. Get a room.”

Without taking her eyes off Chris and me, Sue whapped Iris upside her head.

“Ouch.” Iris rubbed at the spot.

Mama ignored them both. “Dinner’s about ready. Mae, why don’t you take our guest to the table?” She turned her head to glare at my sister. “You can help me get the food out. Now.”

Iris groaned but did as she was told, Sue following behind muttering something about “respect” and “next time I’ll smack you harder.”

Mama smiled widely. “It will be just a minute now.”

With the coast clear, I exhaled and wiggled out from Chris’s arm.

“You okay there?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered. “I am not okay. My stomach is in knots.”

He smirked. “I think that’s supposed to be my line. I am the one who is about to ask your mother for her blessing to marry her daughter.”

I groaned, twisting my hands at my waist. “This feels so wrong.”

“Hey.” With a gentle touch, he stilled my hands and waited until my eyes met his. “There’s still time if you want to back out. It’s okay.”

Oh, no. Gentle, Understanding Chris. Danger. Danger.

His eyes were kind and patient and sincere, and I knew, I knew, he would put the brakes on it all and walk right out that door. But I also knew he had a lot to lose—a sister to protect, a passion for helping those kids and families—and I didn’t want to be the reason he lost it.

Also, I wasn’t a quitter, dammit. I straightened, adjusted my glasses, and poked my finger in his chest. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, buddy.”

Shaking his head, he held up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Now, let’s go lie our faces off.”

“How did that go? What did she say?” I asked when we were safely tucked away in Chris’s truck and driving down the road.

His grin was devilish. “She offered me a dowry of forty rabbit figurines and one geriatric cat. She promised you would be a meek and obedient wife. Oh, and something about good birthing hips.”

Laughing, I smacked him on the shoulder. “What did she really say?”

He tossed me an amused look. “She said it seemed a little sudden but she trusted your judgement and if you said yes that was enough for her.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.” A wave of guilt washed over me. “She’s going to be sad when we break up.”

Chris reached over and put his hand on my knee. We drove in silence for ten minutes before I asked where we were headed.

“You’ll see.”

Another fifteen minutes, and we pulled in front of a quaint little bed and breakfast. Chris hopped out, came around the truck, and helped me out.

“What’s going on here?”

“Don’t look so suspicious.” He grabbed one of my hands and pulled me through a side gate and around the back of the house.

When we turned the corner, I gasped. The garden was a riot of spring flowers, most allowed to grow wild in patches. Crape myrtle trees lined the cobblestone path. It led straight to a gazebo, painted white with twinkly lights twined around it. As we got closer, I saw the table set up in the middle of the gazebo. Candles flickered and a bucket held a bottle of champagne or wine.

It was beautiful; romantic, even. A flutter started in my stomach.

“What’s going on?” I asked again. “D-did you do all this?”

“Mostly.”

Somewhere around the gazebo, someone snorted and that’s when I saw Piper. “Are you kidding? You know damn well I did all this.”

“Well, I paid for it all,” Chris grumbled.

“But why?” I asked in confusion.

Piper made her way toward us. “We can’t let you get engaged without a photo of it, can we?”

“Oh, right.” That absolutely made sense. Except why did I feel strangely disappointed?

“For you.” Piper held out a jewelry box to Chris. “You owe me big time after what I had to do to track this down.”

Chris popped the box open. I gasped and gazed down at the most beautiful engagement ring I’d ever seen. For a moment, I almost forgot to breathe, staring down at the large opal stone, a rainbow of colors under the sunshine, surrounded by tiny diamonds in a white-gold setting.

“Piper, you did good.” With one of his giant football hands, Chris picked it up and gently slid it on my left ring finger. “Fits perfectly, too.”

My chest tightened as I looked at the ring on my finger. I’d never been one to dream about weddings and flowers, but I’d also never seen a ring like this before. A sudden punch of longing hit me hard. “I— Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Piper turned to me, hiding a smile. “We’ll take a couple of photos. I’m taking them with my phone. We’ll be quick and dirty and then you can go on about your evening. Pop that ring back off and put it in the box.”

I should have expected this. It made perfect sense, and yet that flutter I’d had died a slow and painful death.

Pushing the feeling aside, I tugged the ring off and handed it back to Chris. “Let’s get fake-engaged.”

“You’re getting married,” Mama said, her eyes shining.

“Y’all are gonna have some mighty fine children,” Sue said, making large, unidentifiable shapes with her arms. “Big, strapping children.”

“Thanks?” I said.

“I’m not wearing a gross bridesmaid’s dress,” Iris said. “Unless it’s black.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “Who said you were a bridesmaid?”

“Um, duh.” She leaned forward suddenly, a dangerous sparkle in her eye. “Could we get tattoos for your bridal shower?”

“You are not getting a tattoo while you live in this house, Iris Marie Sampson, even if it’s for your sister’s wedding,” my mother said.

“Mom.”

“No.”

Iris crossed her arms, her expression mutinous. “So stupid.”

Ignoring them, I plowed ahead. “This weekend we’re going to his parents’ house.”

Mama bit her lip and, for the first time, concern began to shine in her eyes. “This all seems so fast. I want to make sure you don’t feel rushed.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “He’s, like, a bazillionaire football player. If it doesn’t work out, she can divorce him and get a ton in alimony.”

“Wow. Thanks for the support,” I said.

She shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

I took a deep breath, pushing down the desire to spill all my secrets right there on the living room floor. “I l-love Chris, and I’m excited to marry him.”

Mama tugged on my hand until I half stood, half leaned over the table, so I was eye level with her. Using that super X-ray vision that only mothers have, she stared into my eyes for a long moment before nodding with a smile. I wondered what she’d seen there.

“Alright, Maebe, we have a wedding to plan, don’t we? Come give me a hug.” I let myself linger in her arms, breathing in all the things that made her my mama—the lemon lotion she loved, her strawberry shampoo, and plain old comfort. The backs of my eyes began to sting, and I willed myself not to cry.

Everything was fine.

Everything. Was. Fine.