Page 26 of Love You, Mean It

“Noted. And for the record? I’m happy to wear a studded leather choker occasionally. Just to spice things up.”

“Holyshit.”

I’m not sure what I expected the Taylor family home to look like—a ten-thousand-square-foot modernist monstrosity, maybe, or why not an actual castle, they certainlythoughtthey ruled over all us plebes—but all my ridiculous fantasy versions paled in comparison to the stunning mansion we were pulling up to, set far enough back from the street and ringed round with a tall enough tree barrier that it couldn’t be sullied by commoners’ eyes. Yes, the housewashuge—if it had been ported away from its expansive lawns to my part of town, it probably would have covered half the footprint of my apartment building—but it was annoyinglytasteful.

It was a weighty-looking colonial, wide stretches of molded white trim on all the windows, walls, roof, crisply offsetting the butter-yellow color. The front entrance connected to another at the right-hand side via an expansive stretch of porch, imposing two-story columns surrounding both the unseen side door and a second-story balcony. At the corner of the porch, an elegant stone firepit was surrounded by loungers that probably each cost more than my rent.

Everywhere you looked were little architectural details, the kind you only saw in homes with real history: lattice-paned fanlights tucked beneath the dormers; a delicate stained-glass porthole above the columned entryway; a goddamnedwidow’s walkon the central roof. As if anyone whose husband died in this behemoth would have anything to wail to the heavens about.

No wonder Theo had been so charmed by the condos in the old courthouse. He’d grown up in a homier version of theentirecourthouse.

“Is something wrong?” Theo glanced at me from the driver’s seat. I’d offered to meet him here—I didn’t particularly like being chauffeured, it felt unpleasantly…dependent—but he’d insisted that “explaining away” my car would derail us, even after I’d tried to pull the recent-major-concussion card. Now that I was seeing his childhood home, I understood his thinking.

I gazed at the perfectly landscaped walkway, somehow lush even in late winter, the holly bushes bordering it practically bursting with waxy green leaves and red berries.

“I just…understand you better now.”

Theo’s eyes narrowed as he threw the car in Park in front of the three-carriage garage, since tastefully converted for modern needs.

“That sounds suspiciously like an insult.”

“How could I ever dream of insulting my dearfiancéhere at hisancestral manse,” I sing-songed, fluttering my eyelashes Theo’s way for effect.

“If that’s how we’re playing it, we should probably do another quick rundown of the rules,” Theo said, flashing a wry, close-lipped smile. It ignited something in my chest—the pleasure of sharing a secret, maybe.

“We’ve been over this a million times.”

“Which means a million and one can’t possibly be that hard. Besides, we’ve only had two days to cover everything.”

“Three.” If you counted today.

“Humor me.”

I rolled my entire head—eyes were not enough here. I’d learned,veryquickly, that Theo was a strong believer in thoroughness.

“Rule one,” Theo started, ticking on his fingers. “We don’t bring up Mangia.”

“Yes, yes, don’t lead with the business.” I huffed out an exasperated breath. “Rule two, cheek kissesonly.”

That had been my addition to our game plan. Trying to mime real passion not only felt like a surefire path to being found out—there was a reason I’d wanted to design costumes, not strut across a stage—it was just uncomfortable. But absolutelynophysical affection would be an even bigger tell.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Are you okay with some light touching?” Theo’s business negotiation face, all strong jawline and the barest hint of a frown, felt extremely at odds with the words coming out of his mouth.

“Such as?”

“Hand on the small of the back. Reaching for your hand occasionally.” He demonstrated the movement, stretching across the center console to take my hand in his, squeezing once as he gave me a surprisingly believable look of tenderness. I blinked down at our entwined fingers, trying not to focus on the dry warmth of his skin, the way his large, strong fingers seemed to slot into mine, the perfectly gentle pressure of the squeeze—I’d always despised limp handshakes, but a bone-crusher was even worse.

I cleared my throat and nodded.

“Just don’t overdo it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. And the most important thing to remember is—”

“The four-month timeline. We’ve been over this, Theo.”

“Actually, I was going to say that Ted’s almost definitely going to throw some barbs my way, but act like you don’t notice them. And we’re going over it because it’s important, Ellie. I think our story works. Ted knows he and I aren’t close—considering how little he’s involved with the business now, I probably only sit in thesame room with him half a dozen times a year—but maintaining theappearancethat we are is important to his self-image. I think he’ll believe that I’d propose without telling him about you, especially with the timeline, but it will annoy him to feel out of the loop, so expect a minor temper tantrum. It’s something we have to accept to have any hope of keeping Mangia out. Oh, and he’ll—”

“—be suspicious if we bring it up right away. Theo, Iknow. The wordmangiawill not pass my lips. Even though I am an Italian American whose life’s work revolves around food and eating.”

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