“You were fake dating Mallory this entire time?” My voice is loud, struck with disbelief. He shushes me while glancing nervously around the quiet restaurant. I cover my mouth. “Oops.” I should be mad. I should lay into him for lying to me about this. But I burst out in laughter, relief washing over me like a system cleanse.He was never truly hers…
What in the world was he thinking?
Never in a million years would I have pegged him to do such a radical thing. Me? Of course. Knightley? No way!
His regretful, shamed expression sends me over the edge, and I can’t contain my howling laughter.
He shakes his head, glancing around at the perturbed restaurant-goers, but the way he’s biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing tells me he’s not upset with my reaction. Even if… I don’t think I could have reacted any other way.
“You should be mad at me, not laughing at me.” He hangs his head as if waiting for me to smite him.
I clear my throat, trying to speak in an authoritative tone, but it comes out in snorts. “What were you thinking, Squire? You lied to me for a month.”
His sheepish expression says everything. “The election. Plus I thought you wanted to use the relationship for your business, so I didn’t want to disappoint you by saying it failed. It was so stupid.” He puffs out air and runs a hand through his thick hair.
“Knightley, I don’t like that you lied to me about it, but also… I thought you hated my matchmaking business idea. Why would you try to help me?”
His expression softens. “Regardless of my feelings, I want to see you succeed, Janie.”
My heart skips a beat, and I genuinely wonder if he called me here for something more.
Surely not…
But what if he did? That hand on the window thing earlier… Whew. Friends don’t do that with other friends.
“You know, the fake dating thing. It’s something I would do,” I jest, trying to bring us to a place I’m familiar with.
He laughs. “Exactly.”
“And then you would tell me,” I clear my throat and prepare to do my best impersonation of Knightley, “Emma Jane, what were you thinking? You could have ended up with a psychopath. Senseless woman. Use your brain, Janie. Just a little common sense would—”
“Do I really speak to you that way?” Hurt flashes across his eyes. I drop my hands from pointing at my head (yes, I had to use my hands to speak because Knightley alwaysdoes that).
“It’s not a bad thing,” I hurriedly say. “You’re just looking out for me, that’s all.”
He shakes his head, a strand of red hair falling in front of his eyes. “No, that’s not okay. I shouldn’t talk to you like you’re a petulant child incapable of making your own decisions.” He pauses then says, “I’m sorry, Emma Jane.”
“It’s okay, really.” I have the urge to reach out and take his resting hand into my own, but I don’t. “I’m glad to know you care enough to set me straight at times.”
“Like when you decide you want to play matchmaker with the town of Hartfield? Or, do you remember that time when you had the bright idea to turn your backyard into a field for horses? Oh, you were so scared when Henry brought those two horses home. You wouldn’t even approach them from the opposite side of the fence.”
“Hey! Those creatures are much larger in real life than on the internet.” I wish I could say this happened when I was a kid, but sadly, this took place only two years ago. But I did end up petting the horses before we sold them. I even rode one once. “I faced my fears. You stayed by my side as you walked me right up to the horses. You held my wrist as I pet it for the first time. And then you held the reins as we went for a slow ride around the yard.”
“I did, didn’t I?” His gaze is far away, and I wonder if he recalls the way I clung to him for dear life after I got off the horse.
At that moment, the waiter arrives to take our orders. Once we finish ordering, Knightley excuses himself to the restroom. I take the opportunity to check my socials and text messages. My boss calls, and since Knightley isn’t back, I answer.
“Hey, Mr. Sam.”
“Emma Jane. Sorry to call you this late in the evening, but I just got the paperwork gathered and couldn’t wait another moment to ask you a very important question.”
“What is it?”
“Could you meet me in about an hour at Books and Beans?”
Knightley approaches the table, and I suddenly want to call this impromptu dinner between us a date.
“I’m actually—”
