Page 22 of The Temporary Fiancée
As we slide into the booth, I notice that Olivia looks uncomfortable. For an instant, I’m worried. I don’t want to pressure her into anything she’s uncomfortable with.
Then I notice her gaze drifting to the walls, the floors—everything in our vicinity. She’s not uncomfortable with our arrangement, I realize; she’s self-conscious about this diner, just like she was about her apartment.
“This place seems great,” I tell her. “I love diners like this.”
I don’t even have to lie to make her feel better; it’s completely true. The perfect breakfast place is always a hole-in-the-wall with a huge menu. These places smell like fresh coffee and sound like endless chatter. It’s the sort of place where everyone is anonymous.
She gives me a startled look, but seems to relax a little. “Why? Couldn’t you go anywhere you want? Why not go for a brunch spot, or?—”
“They make the best hash browns at places like this,” I say, flipping through the menu. “Not afraid of a little grease, you know? That’s a hangover necessity.”
“Are you hung over?” she teases, the confidence returning to her voice.
“Only a little. But I gotta be sharp, right?” I shoot her a wink. “We’re in problem-solving mode today.”
“Fair enough.”
A waiter stops by our table, a fresh pot of coffee in his hand. “What can I get for you guys?”
“I’ll take a black coffee, and my lovely friend here will have a mocha,” I say. Olivia gives me another wide-eyed look, but doesn’t protest. I figure that she’ll be hungry after last night, so I decide to go for a big breakfast. “And we’re gonna get the whole shebang. Two breakfast slams, please, and a side of extra hash browns.”
Once the waiter leaves, Olivia hisses at me, “How did you know I’d get a mocha?”
“Because I’ve been out to brunch with you half a dozen times,” I say patiently. “Remember? Our friends are engaged.”
“Yes, but?—”
“Hey.” I tap my forehead. “I’ve got a mind like a steel trap. Nothing gets by me.”
A flush rises in her cheeks, and I have to smother my grin of satisfaction. Even though this whole thing is just fake, just for show, I have to admit that it’s fun to get that reaction out of her.
She looks away. “We should get to work.”
“Right,” I say, trying to sound businesslike. “Let’s figure out how to present this.”
Olivia nods. “What’s the story?”
“I’m thinking that we’ll want to lean into the whole ‘childhood friends’ aspect of our relationship. The press and the tabloids will all eat that up, and it’ll be the perfect rationale for our quick engagement.”
“Why?” Olivia asks.
“We already know each other,” I explain. “The media won’t be able to frame it like I’m rushing into things, or like we got serious too fast.”
“If you say so.” She sounds uncertain, but I press on regardless.
“You’ll be the one that got away, only to come back and reform the bad boy. The press is gonna eat that up, trust me.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not sure that’ll work, but you know the media better than I do.” She leans forward. “By the way?—”
Whatever she’s about to say is interrupted by the arrival of our drinks. I sigh in relief as the waiter hands me a ceramic mug of black coffee, inhaling the earthy scent.About time!
Once he leaves, Olivia says, “Before we figure out anything else, I want to talk about our rules.”
“Aw, that’s such a buzzkill,” I say, leaning back with my coffee. “Why can’t we do the fun part first?”
She raises an eyebrow, though I can tell she’s trying not to smile. “Because the serious part is more important. Sorry. Rules first, or this is a no-go for me.”
I lift one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Sure, I get you. Let’s do rules.”
