Cheating.
Allegations.
If the pictures were taken mere minutes ago, how did the news come out so quickly?
A quick search through the horrible place that is the internet confirms her words to be true. An exclusive article was published less than ten minutes ago, along with the picture that no-good paparazzi managed to catch of Cassandro forcing himself on me.
The headline, naturally, does not reflect the truth.
Nate Archer’s Fiancée Caught Kissing Longtime University Boyfriend with Her Ring Off —A How-To Guide on Ruining a PR Engagement Before It Even Starts.
Melanie’s words about taking off the ring slam through my ears, and I slip it back on right then and there, ashamed I hadn’t kept her in mind.
“Regardless, we’dloveto meet her soon,” Nate’s mom continues.
The silence between us is deafening. We both know that was never going to happen.
“Sounds good, Mom. We’ll see when we can make it happen.”
“Wonderful! Does tonight work? Dinner at our place?”
Nate grows quiet once again.
I look up, seeing the gears turning in his head—crafting what I can only imagine is the best way of breaking the truth to them.
When he finally says, “We’d love to. See you later tonight, Mom and Dad,” and an excited squeal erupts from the other end of the line, my heart plummets to the ground.
I was about to meet my fake fiancé’s family—the same one he had no intention of introducing me to.
CHAPTER 16
VIVIENNE
The silence in this car is suffocating.
There’s no conversation. No polite small talk about the weather, hobbies, or whatever people resort to when conversation runs dry—only the faint hum of country music drifting through the speakers.
And even then, Nate’s music choice feels more like self-inflicted torture than something he actually enjoys. I’ve caught him wincing in distaste a few times—something that could easily be remedied if he switched to a different station.
“Let me get this straight.”
Relief washes over me when Nate finally breaks the heavy quiet. Two hours without a single word. We made it to New Jersey already—that’s how long we’ve been sitting in this tension.
“That guy—he’s the one who came onto you after your volunteering shift?”
“Yes,” I respond with no hesitation.
“And how do you know him?”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Of how recent?”
“University. We broke up in our fourth year.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
I snort. “Absolutely not.”
