Page 92 of Strictly Pretend

“I swear the man never slows down.” The older man tips his head to look at me. “And who is this beautiful lady?” he asks.

“This is my fiancée,” Brooks says without hesitation. “Emma Robbins, this is Arthur Dalgleish. He and my father were at Harvard together.”

“It’s a pleasure,” I say, holding my hand out. Arthur takes it and smiles.

“Did you say fiancée?” he asks Brooks. “Your father didn’t mention that when I last saw him.”

Brooks doesn’t miss a beat. “We got engaged this week. I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.”

Arthur starts to laugh. “Oh, I love that I know before he does. I’ll never let him live that down. I think I’ll tell him around the thirteenth hole the next time we play. Should put him off his game completely.”

“Do me a favor,” I say, leaning my head against Brooks’ shoulder. “Please don’t tell him until we get a chance. I haven’t met them yet and I want to make a good impression.”

“Of course, beautiful lady.” Arthur winks at me and I feel myself start to relax. “Well I’d best get back to the wife. It was a pleasure to see you again.”

When he walks away I turn to look at Brooks. His expression is so serene it jolts me.

“Shouldn’t you follow him?” I ask.

Brooks tips his head to look at me. “Why?”

I widen my eyes frantically. “Because he thinks we’re engaged,” I whisper. “And he’s going to tell your father. You need to explain the truth to him.”

“But we are engaged,” he says calmly.

“No we’re not, we’re…” I look around to check that nobody’s listening before lifting the ring for him to look at. “Not,” I say again, because I’ve no idea how to explain what’s going on between us right now.

“If it’s the ring you’re worried about, I’m planning on getting you a real one next week.”

“No you’re not.” My eyes widen.

“I am.”

There’s a strange twisty feeling in my chest. “Brooks, we won’t be engaged next week.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asks.

“No, I just.” I take a deep breath. “We barely know each other.”

“It didn’t feel like that when I was inside you last night.”

My throat tightens at the memory. Of how he felt as he held me in the lake. How his face looked in the moonlight as he stared down at me.

“It doesn’t work like that,” I whisper. “This is the twenty-first century. Just because we had sex doesn’t mean we have to get married.”

His brows pull together as he looks at me, as though he’s trying to work out what I’m getting at. “Are you saying you don’t want to be engaged to me?”

“I’m saying…” I shake my head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. But this isn’t how it works. You meet somebody, you date. After about a hundred years together and watching bridal TikToks and conveniently having them hang around he might decide to pop the question. But only after telling his friendsnothing will change and he’ll still be him because he expects the woman to adapt to his lifestyle, not the other way around.”

“When you put it like that it sounds so romantic,” he says, shaking his head.

“But that’s just it. This isn’t a romance book, this is real life. People don’t just go around getting engaged willy nilly anymore.”

“Willy nilly,” he repeats.

“It’s an English expression.” I frown. “I read a lot. And that’s not the important thing here.”

He takes a sip of champagne. How can he be so calm? “What is the important thing here?” he asks.

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