Alan starts tapping his fingers on the table, frustrated.His head dips, shoulders hunched.His face turns red, the smile gone, his eyes wet like he’s fighting tears.He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, curling in on himself like he’s building a wall.
My emotions twist inside me like a storm.I can’t lie—I don’t love him.I don’t wanna marry him.But I need this plan to work.There won’t be another chance.
Think, Fenella.Think.
I’ve never been the calculating type.Alan and Laird think in chess moves.They always have a next step when things go wrong.Me?I’m impulsive, naïve, ruled by emotion and instinct.And if I’m being honest, all I have for Alan now is guilt.He’ll only hate me more once he realizes the truth.
“Sorry,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead.“I guess I’m a terrible actress.I shouldn’t have lied.”
“Why’d you lie like that?”
I go quiet.My mind replays everything between us, the chaos, the mess.I thought planning things out would help me get what I wanted.But it never works that way.I bite my bottom lip while reconsidering everything.
Should I stop now?Or maybe I should trust his genuine emotion toward me?If he really sees me as an ambitious girl, and he’s as obsessed with me as Laird said, then maybe I know what to do now.
“Sorry, Alan.I can’t marry you.What I feel for you is guilt, nothing more.”My fingers brush my nose as I talk.“I thought marrying you would fix my life, make everything fall back into place.You said you had a plan to rescue my career… Guess it’s a bad idea.”I shrug and lean back in my chair, finally giving in to the weight of it all.
Pretending to be in love, pretending to be engaged to Alan—what a joke.That kind of story only works in romance movies.
Alan just stares at me.Slowly, he mirrors my movement, leaning back again.His hands shift restlessly on the table before one covers his mouth.
“Fenella, I get it,” he says softly.“This must be confusing for you.I know you still love Laird.You don’t have to lie to make me happy.”His tone changes—gentle, sad, almost tender—as a crease deepens on his forehead.
23
The A Team
Fenella
“Listen.I’m fine with it all.I told you I’d wait for you, no matter how long.That’s my promise to you.”
I tilt my head toward him, blinking as I try to grasp what he really means.“Does that mean you don’t hate me?”I ask, my voice edged with doubt.
Alan shakes his head with a restrained smile.“I could never hate you, Fenella.I’d be disappointed if you lied to me, but hate you?No.I love you.”
“Alan…” I whisper his name, still unable to believe how deep this obsession runs.I take a slow breath, trying to process it all.
“I’ll wait for you.But if you think marrying me will help you get your life back on track, I—I can live with that.”He stutters, excitement flickering in his tone.
His words make me sit up straighter.I lean in a little.My mouth parts slightly, my palms pressing against the table.My heart pounds at this sudden opening.
“Marry me, and I’ll show you we belong together.”His voice softens as his hands reach across the table, wrapping around mine.
“Oh, Alan.”I sigh in relief.It worked.
A grin spreads across my face.For the first time, I’m genuinely happy to hear him propose—though for reasons that have nothing to do with love.He doesn’t know that.He smiles back, and somehow, it’s like we’re both getting what we want.
“Bring your finger here.”He opens the box, eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Oh, about that,” my voice trails off as he takes out the ring, ready to slide it on.
“Why?”His brow creases.
“The ring’s too big.”I clear my throat, trying to hide my nervous excitement.
“Really?”Alan frowns, studying the ring.
Wait.What’s that reaction?Did he check my ring size from my files too?“Yes.And…” I stop myself.He raises an eyebrow, waiting.I shake my head.“No.Never mind.”
