I sigh, long and dramatic. “You owe me. Big time.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it. But I want details. Everything. And you’re buying me the most expensive dinner in Chicago to make up for this.”
The relief in his voice is palpable. “Done. Whatever you want. Thank you, Freya. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
That makes two of us,I think, but I don’t speak it out loud.
“When do you get back?” I ask instead.
“Today. Can we meet up tomorrow? I’ll take you shopping. We should probably get you a ring to make this look convincing.”
A ring. Right. Because of course we need props for this charade.
“Fine,” I respond. “But I’m picking the restaurant for our debriefing dinner. Somewhere ridiculously fancy where the appetizers cost more than my rent.”
He laughs, and it’s the first time he’s sounded like himself since he called. “Deal. I’ll text you when I land.”
“You better. And Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you want to fake-engage someone, maybe run it by them first?”
“There won’t be a next time. I promise.”
After we hang up, I sit in my studio for a long moment, staring at the blank canvas. The music is still playing, but the creative zone I was in has completely evaporated.
Ben needs my help. And despite the insanity of what he’s asking, despite the fact that pretending to be engaged to my best friend is probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, I already recognize I’ll do whatever it takes to help him succeed.
What’s the worst that could happen?
CHAPTER 3
BEN
The spray from the fountain cools the air nearby in the shopping center, creating an oasis in the middle of a hot Chicago spring. Sitting on the edge of it, I pull my phone out, start to check my email, then think better of it and put it away.
Two hours. That’s how much time I’ve set aside to go shopping and have a meal with Freya. Why ruin it?
It’s not often that I take a break, as Freya likes to point out. In the spirit of good-natured ribbing, I don’t mind showing her how wrong she is about me. I know how to take a break.
It’s just that I don’t often choose to.
A young family approaches the fountain, a mother and a father with two kids under five. The children’s eyes go wide at the water, and the older one immediately plunges his fist into its shallow depths.
“Bryson, no!” The mother rushes over, but she’s laughing as she pulls his dripping hand away. “We talked about this.”
The father scoops up the younger child, a little girl with pigtails, and spins her around until she squeals with delight. “Your turn next, sweetheart.”
I watch them with a strange tightness in my chest. They look so... easy together. Natural. Like they fit into each other’s lives without having to think about it. The father doesn’t check his phone once. The mother isn’t calculating the cost-benefit analysis of letting her son get wet.
They’re present, in the moment, enjoying their family.
Must be nice.
I realize I’m staring and force myself to look away, focusing instead on the upscale shopping center around me. This is neutral territory. Expensive enough that we won’t look out of place buying an engagement ring, but not so exclusive that Freya will feel uncomfortable. I’ve been coming to this particular area for years when I need to buy gifts for clients or business associates. I understand exactly which jewelry store has the best selection and the most discreet sales staff.
