He hands me a steaming mug, gesturing to milk, sugar, and cinnamon sticks. “Help yourself.”
I pop a cinnamon stick into my mug and sit across from Adam at the kitchen island.
Something occurs to me. “If we have to pretend to be in love for the entire weekend, we can’t break character for even a second.”
Adam nods. “That’s the gist of it. My sister will be all over us if she suspects anything is amiss.”
“So, how do we make this work? Do we have to hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes all weekend?”
Adam chuckles. “Nah. We just need to act like we’re comfortable around each other. And maybe throw in a few touches and kisses here and there.”
I look at him skeptically. “Kisses?”
Adam grins. “Oh, come on, Evie. It’ll be fun.”
I roll my eyes, trying to make light of the whole crazy scenario, but deep down, I can’t deny the flutter of excitement in my stomach.
“Okay, I’ll try,”
“Thanks, I’ll do my best to not make it torture for you.”
If he’s offended, he’s hiding it well.
“What’s our backstory?” I ask, straightening up in my seat. “How did we meet?”
Adam takes a sip of his coffee before answering. “We met on a dating app, and we hit it off right away. We’ve been dating for a few months now, and we just got engaged three weeks ago.”
“Seems crazy fast.”
“Not when you’re madly in love.”
His face is so sincere that I start to wonder if he was a drama major. I nod along, trying to keep up with the lie. “Right. And what do we like about each other?”
Adam leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I like that you’re smart and funny, and you don’t take any crap from anyone. And that you’re independent and beautiful.”
I feel my cheeks flush. “Thanks. And I like that you’re . . . tall. And you have a nice house.”
Adam laughs. “Well, I’ll take what I can get. But seriously, Evie. I’m lucky to have you as my fake fiancée.”
I smile at him, feeling a sudden warmth in my chest. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Adam purses his lips. “What about the ring?”
My eyes widen. “The ring? We need a ring?”
Adam nods. “We’re getting married, right? We need a ring.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have a ring.”
Adam gets up from his chair and walks out of the kitchen, returning with a small box. He opens it to reveal a beautiful oval-shaped diamond ring with intricate filigree detailing. The stone is dancing in the sunlight that streams through the windows.
My jaw drops. “Where did you get that?”
“It was my grandmother’s,” Adam says. “May I?”
Before I can say a word, Adam is slipping the ring onto my finger. Like magic, it fits. Not too big, not too small. Just right.
“It’s lovely,” I say, aware this fiasco is turning stranger by the minute. We’ve only known each other for one day. A moment of awkwardness settles between us.