Page 67 of Things We Fake
My smile was a mix between cocky and modest. “I made a few calls.” I held out the chocolates. “Flowers felt a little too predictable, so I brought chocolate, too. Just covering all my romantic clichés in one night.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “You’re going for the full Nicholas Sparks starter pack?”
“No idea who that is.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice caught just slightly, and she blinked a few times. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.”
She cradled the vase to her chest, closing her eyes as she buried her nose in the flowers.
I chuckled. “See, this is what I mean. The look on your face is worth way more than the cost of things. You’re happier about the flowers than about the ring.”
“Well, the flowers were a heartfelt present. I don’t need expensive things to be happy, I already told you that.”
“You did.”
She looked up at me, her expression soft. “I guess that’s hard to believe after being burned by a woman like Britt, huh? But it’s true. These flowers are probably the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.” She realized we were still standing in the doorway. “Come in.”
She set the vase on the coffee table and leaned in to inhale the fresh, sun-warmed scent.
“My God, these remind me of summers back home, of open fields, bare feet, and skies that never end.”
“Wow.” I was impressed. “That was very poetic. I’m afraid I can’t compare.”
At her blank look, I gestured to the card nestled between the flowers.
Sue pulled it free and opened it. “Thank you for being you—Cam.”
She paused for a second. I was afraid the message was too short and silly, but her smile was brilliant as she turned to me.
“Thank you too, for being you, and for the flowers. I love them.”
My gaze was steady on hers, my voice serious. “My pleasure.”
“There’s a little wine left, if you want some.”
“Sure, thank you.”
As she poured the wine, I looked around. The lights were dimmed to a soft amber glow, the air carried a warm hint of something floral and nostalgic—roses maybe. The stereo played mellow soft rock in the background.
Candles flickered from the table, their flames casting golden highlights on the clean dishes and half-finished bottle of merlot. She’d set everything out—napkins folded, glasses gleaming. The atmosphere was romantic, almost seductive. Had she done this for me? How did she expect the night to end? The past forty-eight hours had been a blur of improvisation and intensity, too fast to stop and think, let alone figure out how she really felt.
Being alone with her in her apartment stirred something I didn’t know what to do with—equal parts thrill and nerves, a tightrope walk between comfort and danger. I didn’t want to misinterpret her signals. Hell, being a guy was damn hard. I wanted her, but unless she made it super clear she wanted me back, I wasn’t going to make any further moves. I was going to wait and be patient.
“The pasta is delicious,” she said, ending my inner musings. “Let’s eat.”
We sat opposite each other, flicking gazes over the flickering candlelight. The spaghetti was perfectly al dente, tossed in a silky tomato-basil sauce simmered to perfection—bright with garlic, just enough heat to tease the tongue, and finished with a dusting of sharp parmesan.
Sue filled me in on her chat with the girls. “They went nuts when they saw the ring.”
I grinned. “Glad to hear they’ll keep our secret.”
“Absolutely. It’s a slim possibility, but if anyone asks they’ll back up our pretend romance.” She took a mouthful of wine. “Unfortunately, Neil may be a pain in the ass.”
“Why?”
“Nikki says his wife dumped him, and he’s got his eye on me like never before.”
I didn’t even know the man, but I already hated him for breaking Sue’s heart—even if he’d done me a favor. The thought of him sniffing around her made my spine tighten. I could feel the sudden tension in my jaw, the pulse in my temple.
