Page 41 of What Hurts Us

He popped the box open and offered it to me for inspection. “I didn’t think about getting it sized. But I figured you wouldn’t want to wear it when you’re working, so if it doesn’t fit, you won’t have to wear it too much. Just if we go out.”

The ring was breathtaking. Frankly, it was the furthest thing from traditional. A dazzling red gem on a thin gold band caught the light, sparkling like a siren. Small petals of gold framed it in an ornate wreath. “Wow.”

Callum eased down the couch, sitting beside me instead of keeping the customary body’s width of space. He took the box out of my hand and plucked the ring from the cushion. Reaching with a calm, measured motion, he took my left hand in his and slid the ring onto my finger.

“It fits.” Like Cinderella’s slipper, the ring sat comfortably snug on my finger. Already, I didn’t want to take it off.

Cal held my hand in his, gently stroking the top of it with his thumb. The number of times we had touched was somewhere below a dozen. It was always in the moment, needing to prove our farce of a relationship to whoever was around. Never had it been within the privacy of his house. There was a different weight to it when we were alone.

His thumb brushed across the red stone. “Looks good.” Cal made a move for the ring box, so I reluctantly took it off and gave it to him to store away safely. My finger felt naked without it, but I dismissed the absurd notion. It was a piece of jewelry, for goodness’ sake.

“So, the, uh…Khastegaritradition—”

“Good pronunciation,” I said with a laugh.

Cal rolled his lip between his teeth. “What do I need to do?”

Something about walking in on him Googling Persian traditions warmed my heart. The little things he did—like buying silly mugs and considering how my parents would feel about all this—meant the world to me. If he wasn’t so intent on faking it, I would have been head over heels already.

Tomorrow we were going to my parent’s house for dinner. It would be the first time they met my “boyfriend” and the first time my future fake fiancé would meet his soon-to-be fake in-laws. My family was the sweetest group of humans I knew, but what they intended as love often came off as suffocating.

“On my way home from work this morning, I picked up some sweets for you to give as a housewarming gift.”

His attention turned to a defensive scowl. “I have it covered.”

Completely ignoring his rancor, I pressed on. “You’re getting lucky. It’ll be a small crowd. Just my parents, my brother, my aunt—who you already know—my grandma, and maybe three or four of my cousins.”

Cal raised his eyebrows. “That’s a small crew?”

For a moment, I wondered what Callum’s family was like. He said he had lived with his Gran for a while, but surely he had more family than that. As overbearing as my family could be, I couldn’t imagine not having grown up in a noisy, crowded household.

“Don’t be a dick to anyone, but the people you really want to impress are my parents and my grandma. My aunt already knows you, so you have her on your side, and my brother will probably just be excited that there’s another guy around the table.”

“What do you call your grandma?”

“Maman Bozorg,”

“And your brother?”

“Usually ass-face, but his birth certificate says Karim.”

Cal bit back a laugh.

“What about you?” I rested my elbow on the back of the couch and propped up my head. I still wasn’t all the way awake. “Any siblings?”

“Step-siblings,” he groused. “And half-siblings.”

That was new information. But it wasn’t what he said. It was how he said it—resentful and angry.

“How many?”

“Dunno.”

And that was the end of that conversation. Cal had hit his word count for the day, and I could see him shutting down behind those stone gray eyes.

Instead of pushing him for more, I started talking. “So, theKhastegariis traditional in a lot of Persian families, but it’s changed a lot. It used to be this big ceremony where a courtship would be initiated. The families of the potential bride and groom would meet, and the couple would decide if they wanted to have more visits. Nowadays, it’s more like asking for their blessing.”

“Are they going to be mad that we live together?”

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