There is a particularly special kind of hell that comes with planning an engagement party for a non-existent relationship.
Fake smiles.
Real stress.
And a million questions I had no answers to.
"Do you like roses or peonies?"
"You should want to give a speech?"
"When are you registering?"
I'd never wanted to burn a spreadsheet more in my life.
Lillian Granger, who had generously decided to host the event, didn't believe in simplicity. Or silence. Or boundaries. She wanted white linens, crystal chandeliers, a string quartet, and a speech from Rhyland's nonexistent grandmother.
Meanwhile, my brother hadn't spoken to me in two days.
He wasn't cold.
He was worse, calm.
Observing.
Waiting.
And I knew, deep inside, he was one step away from blowing the entire thing wide open.
The party was in a rooftop ballroom with vistas that made the skyline appear as though it were all our own. Noah stayed home in the evening with a sitter. He did not need to be included in the charade.
I ironed my way across the room, flattening the satin of my wedding dress, deep emerald, sleeveless, floor-length. Simple and timeless, because for heaven's sake, I wanted to be understated.
"You're nervous," Rhyland said behind me.
"I think I'm entering into a trap," I continued.
He moved up beside me. "You're not."
"Are you sure? I was just out with your investor's wife a week ago and she asked if we would mind if she put us down in a honeymoon suite."
"She's harmless."
"She's planning our cake tasting, Rhyland."
He grinned. "You like cake."
"That's not the problem."
He put a gentle hand on my exposed shoulder. "We just have to make it through tonight."
I whirled back to him. "What do we do when the lie catches up with us?"
His grin fell. "Then we make a better story."
I scowled at him.
And for a brief moment, I wanted to believe him.
The ballroom was filled when we arrived, editors, investors, influencers, and some surprising few that I had known about through gossip columns.
Flashbulbs flashed the instant we arrived.
Rhyland's hand rested on my lower back. His smile switched on like a light.
"You've got this," he whispered.
I put on a smile.
We went the rounds, collecting congratulations, and deflecting questions about dates and venues. I leaned into the deception more than ever before.
And somehow… it didn't ring false anymore.
Not when Rhyland was whispering jokes in my ear between greetings.
Not when his fingers touched mine under the table.
Not when he told me I was beautiful with no irony.
I was beginning to lose track of where the line was.
Or whether there'd ever been one.
Midnight, Lillian rang her champagne glass.
"I should like to offer a toast," she said with a smile. "To the happy couple! May your love be as solid as your ambition, and as trouble-free as your photos make it appear!"
There was laughter rippling through the room.
Rhyland rose, took my hand, and lifted his glass.
"I wasn't looking for this," he said, voice warm and deep. "But then Emery came along—messy, honest, loud. And suddenly, all the rest just… wasn't as crucial."
My heart clenched.
He gazed at me. "You and Noah gave me something I never expected. A reason to stop running."
Everyone relaxed.
So did I.
The music began playing louder. The dancing began.
I stepped outside for air.
Alone, finally.
Or so I thought.
"I didn't expect you to lie so well."
The voice was sharp. Male.
Too close.
I spun around—and my stomach dropped.
Caleb.
Standing in the shadows near the balcony door.
Smiling with a smug expression that crawled up my skin.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him.
He stepped closer. "Just wanted to see it for myself. The fantasy. The pretend fairy tale."
"Please leave."
"Come on, Em. You think you can erase me with a new dress and a new name?"
I stiffened. "You don't belong here."
"Oh, I think I do. After all, you used to belong to me."
He reached for my wrist.
And that's when Rhyland arrived.
Fast. Quiet. Deadly.
He said nothing.
Just inserted himself between us, eyes burning.
"Touch her again," he said in a flat tone, "and I'll make sure you never touch anyone else."
Caleb sneered. "You gonna punch me again, Cross?"
"If I have to."
I stepped in. "Rhyland, don't—"
But Caleb wasn't done.
"She's not yours," he sneered. "Playing house with someone else's kid and thinking it makes you a hero? She'll run from you too."
Rhyland didn't hit him.
He didn't scream.
He just glared him in the face and said, "She's not running anymore."
And somehow, that was worse.
Caleb took a step back.
Spat on the ground.
And turned away.
Nobody inside saw the argument outside.
But I did.
I saw it all.
How Rhyland's hands shook a little when he poured himself a drink.
How my brother watched us from across the room as if he were solving a puzzle.
How I couldn't breathe until Rhyland reached out for my hand and said, "Are you okay?"
I nodded.
He didn't think I was.
"Come with me."
We slipped out of the party unnoticed.
Noah slept, back in the penthouse at home.
I stood there in the kitchen and wrapped my hands around an untouched glass of water.
"I'm sorry," I said finally. "He shouldn't have been there."
"He won't come near you again."
"You don't know that."
I do."
I stood up. "You didn't hit him."
He stepped closer. "I wanted to."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because you were watching."
That hit me in the chest.
"I don't want to be a problem," I said softly.
"You're not."
"I'm a mess. With a kid. And an ex. And—"
I got cut off by him closing the gap between us.
"You're real. That's all I see."
I blinked.
And then his mouth was on mine.
No flashbulbs.
No crowd.
Just us.
This kiss wasn't like that other one.
It didn't insist.
It inquired.
And I answered.
We backed up until my butt touched the countertop.
His hands were on my waist. Mine on his collar.
All of it was like a start and a warning.
We pulled apart only when we needed to breathe.
I didn't let him go.
Neither did he.
"I can't promise this isn't going to get more complicated," I said.
"I'm hoping it does."
The morning, I awoke to noises in the hallway.
I slowly got out of bed, still sleepy, and opened the door slightly.
Rhyland stood with my brother.
Low voices.
Tense.
"She has a right to the truth," my brother w
as saying.
"I know."
"So why didn't you tell her?"
Rhyland faltered.
"I was going to. After the party. But now… it's too late."
I had a feeling like I was electrocuted.
Truth?
What truth?
And just like that, I recalled:
This started with a lie.
And it could still be one.