Page 25 of The Run Option

I grab my bag off the counter. “Okay, I’m ready to go.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his green eyes searching mine. I know his question goes deeper than me being ready for dinner.

“I’m sure.”

He dips his chin. “Then let’s go.”

The ride to the restaurant was quiet. I spent the whole time alternating between twisting my ring and playing with the strap of my handbag. Jason must be more nervous than I initially thought, because he didn’t attempt much conversation.

“Have a nice evening,” the valet driver says as he takes the keys to Jason’s car.

“Thank you,” Jason replies before joining me on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

It’s a small, unassuming brick building with ivy crawling up toward the simple sign. I step toward the door, curious what the inside will be like.

“Wait, do you want to take our photo before we go in? The sun will set soon, and the lighting in there is pretty dim.”

Dim might be good. It could cover up the unease swirling within me. Realistically though, I know that this photo will be everywhere. We should look our best, and beneath the golden rays of the fading sun is certainly the way to do that.

I shrug. “Yeah, let’s go ahead and take some. Do you want to take them or see if we can get someone to take a few?”

“Whatever you think is best. You’re the one with the experience in this area.”

“In faking relationships?” I ask.

He smirks. “In social media and photography.”

“Oh, yeah.” I think it over. “Let’s take a few selfie-style and a few with a person helping. It will be good for Brock to have multiple photos, and for us to share different ones on social media to make it look more authentic.”

“Okay, let me see if the valet guy can help before another car pulls up,” Jason says, then walks back over to the little tent the guy was standing under.

They have a brief interaction, then the guy comes over, Jason’s phone in hand. I set my purse on a bench nearby so that it’s not in the background of the photos.

“Where do you want us to be?” Jason asks as he walks over to me.

“Right here is fine. The brick wall with the ivy is a pretty backdrop,” I answer.

He steps up to my side, but I walk around him. The confusion on his face makes me laugh a little.

“I need to be able to show off the ring,” I remind him, positioning myself on his left side and gently laying my hand on his chest. The large diamond sparkles in the fading sun.

He draws in a breath. “Right. I’d almost forgotten about that part.” His voice sounds strained. Is being near me difficult? I’m sure pretending isn’t easy for him any more than it is for me. Flirting is one thing, but pretending to be engaged? That’s a totally different ball game.

I’m about to tell him how he should stand when he wraps an arm around my waist and draws me in closer, making me gasp.

“No one will believe we’re engaged if you’re ten feet away from me,” he murmurs.

I roll my eyes. “I was hardly ten feet. More like a few inches.”

Being pressed against him like this is dizzying. His clean scent is even more potent, and the warmth emanating from him is much too welcome in the October evening air.

“Ready?” the valet guy says and I blink a few times.

“Yes, we’re ready,” I answer and turn my head toward the camera.

I try my best to smile, but it feels forced. I’m uncomfortable and unsure. There’s no way I’ll be able to relax enough to be believable. Everyone is going to either think it’s fake or that I’m the most uptight bride-to-be in the world. Unfortunately, thinking about this only makes memoretense.

“Okay, I took a few,” the guy says.

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