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“That’s correct.”

Preston answers her questions in rapid-fire, and I scoot closer to him, grateful that he’s here with me.

“Is it safe to say that your relationship was an open one based on how the timeline fits and that Mr. King was able to explore his⁠—”

“This interview is over, and all remaining media needs to have our PR present,” Preston cuts her off and stands. “I was under the impression this was an interview about our engagement, not an interrogation of how we fell in love.”

“Not answering will only confirm what my source has informed me.”

“Your source is wrong and sounds like a jealous ex.”

“So you haven’t always disliked each other.”

“No,” Preston says.

“But if you⁠—”

Oh my god. This is getting out of control. I have to do something. I have to say something. I have to answer her questions.

“Our relationship used to be complicated,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “I always wanted more, but we weren’t mature enough to figure out how to make both of our lifestyles blend. Now we have. If I ever spoke negatively, it came from a place of hurt. Wanting to be with someone who wants different things than you is painful. Turning it into anger made it bearable. Preston and I are getting married, and there is nothing fake about it.”

Preston’s eyes remain on me throughout every word. I wait for him to say something, but Kerri is clearly in her field for a reason.

“So, you’ve set a date. Words don’t mean as much as actions. If you have a date set, when is it?”

“That’s none of your⁠—”

“You just plan to stay engaged to keep figuring things out?”

“No, we⁠—”

“Next week,” Preston cuts in. “One week from now, Grace will be my wife. Is that good enough for you?”

The reporter smiles and nods.

“Good. Now get the fuck off our property before I have you escorted and banned for good.”

Kerri stands, but the winning smile on her lips stays.

“You heard him, boys; let’s go.”

Preston grabs my hand and pulls me through the lobby all the way back to my office.

The door slams behind us.

“Damn it!” he seethes, and while I feel the same, my mind is racing with this new development.

Being engaged was one thing, but married, actually being married, is another.

“I should press charges, and we should have her eighty-sixed from the property permanently.”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts to type furiously. “Fuck,” he says.

I move to the couch and sit.

My movement must pull him back to the present.

He slides his phone back into his pocket and approaches slowly.