Page 26 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

“And they’re buying this friends-to-lovers bullshit.”

He nods. “I told them I’m nuts about you.”

I smirk and press my luck. “Are you?”

“No. I hate you, you know that, right?”

“Good. Just making sure we’re on the same page.” He pushes his hair off his forehead back into its proper place. I’m shocked it moved, must be out of product.

“I’m all for taking down the hypocritical aristocracy.” I toss a fist in the air.

“I knew you would be. Game recognizes game.” He raises an eyebrow.

I look out the window and then back to him. I wish he didn’t look sexy too. “You may continue. And tell me the whole fucking story, no editing. And more champs.”

He nods and continues. “My mother wants me married, my father wants me to have the right kind of job and they both want me to have a really boring life full of community commitments. There was an ultimatum; have a pillar of their version of adulting nailed down or no more grandparent’s inheritance trust.”

“Sounds like something my mother would do. The pillars, the right job, a partner and let me see…” I tap my lips trying to think of the third one.

He grins and says, “Come on, I know you can do it.”

“A fence around the yard. Roots or some bullshit in a good school district.”

It’s a different kind of smile that overtakes his face. He may talk a whole hell of a lot, but I’m not sure he thinks anyone is listening. But I hear him even without him saying anything.

“I own a gorgeous townhouse where I know my barista in Boston but that’s not good enough. Must be in one of the acceptable suburbs.”

I know a thing or two about his past. “The wife. The one you divorced...” He nods for me to continue. “She was the right kind? The house was in the right place, and you had the right job. Even her hair looked exactly like it should in your parent’s mind. They feel you threw it all away and they’re still waiting for you to get it back.”

He laughs a little, “Yes. Me walking away wasn’t quite your brand of velvet rebellion; choosing the wrong job, wrong man and the way fucking wrong place to live but, yes.”

He knocks the wind out of me for a second. Velvet rebellion. Even my rebellion is playing it safe. Fuck it. I’m in this.

He leans forward with those intoxicating devilish eyes, knowing he has me until Hawaii. I give him the finger then curl it toward me for him to continue.

“Mom’s pushy, particular, and believes not only is perfection attainable but noble. Birdie can’t grasp the concept that I’m 35, and right now this is my life. I’m not figuring things out anymore. This is it. How old are you? I’m hoping over 25.”

“Ha-Ha. 32.”

“Really? I thought Courtney was older.” I grin.

“I get that a lot given what everyone says is a maturity level gap between the two of us. Side note, I’m not the one who ran away. She blew it all up, and they still showed up for her. Maybe because she tried and I only have a limited edition Princess Zelda, molded lucite ring to prove I was engaged.”

“That’s a lot to unpack, Harpy. And I promise you a better ring this time.”

“Yes, but I didn’t get married at what…”

“Twenty-two.”

“And you left almost instantly.”

He laughs a little then says, “The tags were still on the luggage when I packed up.”

I settle back into my seat.

“You should never do anything permanent or even semi-permanent at 22. If I ever have a kid, that’ll be what I tell them. Don’t get a tattoo, buy a house, commit to a career, or get married at 22.”

“Agree. Show me the tattoo.”