Page 48 of Things We Fake
“Engaged,” he repeated patiently. “You said the school would frown on you showing up in a tabloid kissing some guy, but what if that guy wasn’t random? What if he was your fiancé?”
I stared at his face, waiting for a wink, or some other clue that he was joking. But his expression didn’t budge. His eyes were steady, his eyebrows arched in a silent question mark.
I set my coffee down before I dropped it. “You can’t be serious. A fake engagement? What is this—a rom-com?”
His lips quirked, just slightly. “Well, we’ve got the romance. Still waiting on the comedy.”
He leaned in, tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. It solves everything. For you, for me, for the mess Brittany’s trying to stir up. It protects your job, gives you cover with your family, and it makes me look like a man who’s moved on from the past—which I have, by the way. Besides, it’s respectable. A fiancée isn’t scandalous. No one can condemn a kiss between two people who are engaged.”
I stood and paced, needing to make the wheels of my brain move. “Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend we’re madly in love and engaged for... what? A few days? Weeks? Months? People are going to ask questions, Cam. Wedding dates. Venues. Invitations. And my mother—oh God, she’s going to lose her mind.”
He followed me with his eyes but stayed seated, calm as ever. “Only if you want to keep it going that long. We can end it whenever you’re ready. You break it off. Blame it on my obsession with work or my compulsive sock-folding. Whatever you want.”
His voice softened. “I’m not trying to trap you in some elaborate scheme. This is just... a temporary patch. One that buys us both some peace.”
He stood and reached for my hands. “Not everyone who gets engaged actually gets married, you know. It happens all the time. Hell, I’ve got the track record to prove it.”
“Same,” I muttered, a bitter laugh catching in my throat.
We stood there a moment—two walking cautionary tales of modern romance—and still, the idea didn’t feel insane. Risky, sure. Unorthodox, definitely. But not impossible.
Cam’s thumbs brushed over my knuckles. “As long as we’re enjoying each other’s company, we’re winning. And when it stops working, we walk away friends. No harm done.”
I let out a breath. “Do you think Brittany’s going to let you go that easily now that she’s single again?”
He snorted. “Britt’s not after me, Sue. She’s after the version of me she thinks she can use. Right now, she sees me as a possible route back to luxury. But once she realizes I’m not selling stock, not funding her lifestyle, and not buying back into her drama, she’ll find someone else to play with. Someone richer, or at least more gullible.”
“She really did a number on you, huh?”
“She did. She hurt a lot of people. She burned Charles, wrecked the company’s foundation, and very nearly broke my mother’s heart when she saw what Britt was turning me into. I should’ve known better. But I didn’t. And I let her make me look like a fool.”
He looked at me then, and there was something raw behind his usual ease. “I shouldn’t have tried to one-up her last night. That was stupid.”
I squeezed his hand. “Hey, we both got sucked in. She knew exactly how to bait us. I was two seconds from telling her we had twin boys and a golden retriever.”
That earned me a laugh, and the tension in his shoulders loosened.
I smiled. “I once read that Kate Middleton saved Prince William at a party by pretending to be his girlfriend when some woman was all over him. No idea if that’s true, but I want it to be. It’s romantic.”
His lips curved into a smile. “I don’t know who’s saving who, but I don’t care. I just want to fix this mess.”
Both of us leaned back on the couch, heads resting against the cushions.
I blew out a slow breath. “I guess we don’t have much choice other than to fake an engagement. We’ll have to figure out how to make this work for a little while. Mrs. West might call it a conflict of interest, though. She could ask you to have someone else represent the company, or select someone else to be the staff liaison.”
Cam turned his head toward me, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Then I’ll send Dawna. She’s great, knows the program inside out. I’ll smooth it over with a generous donation to the scholarship fund and maybe toss in some free upgrades while I’m at it. That should soothe any ruffled feathers.”
He reached for my hand, warm and steady. “And who knows? We might even enjoy it. I already like spending time with you. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous—sexy as hell.” He grinned. “I promise I’ll be the best fake fiancé you’ve ever had.”
Sexy. He thought I was sexy. Cue the fireworks!
I tried to stay grounded, but the truth nudged at me. This wasn’t real. It was a placeholder, a patch job. Something we’d both walk away from once Easter rolled past and Brittany found her next victim. AfterCam—after this—I’d be back to solo Friday nights, Netflix, laundry, wine facials, and frozen pizza. And I had a sinking feeling those things wouldn’t feel so comforting anymore.
But I smiled, keeping it light and easy. He didn’t offer forever. Just now.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “You’ve got yourself a partner in crime. Let’s take it one day at a time. When it’s over, let’s walk away as friends.”
Cam nodded. “Deal. And just so we’re on the same page, Sebastian and the guys won’t know it’s fake. They all saw you that night at Sebastian’s place, and if they knew, they’d be circling like hawks. I think they thought you and I had a fight, and I didn’t contradict them.”
