揟hat man might be a miracle worker. Almost as much as you,?I add, turning away because if I meet his eyes, I will be in pieces.
I only wonder one thing.
How messed up is it that my fake engagement is already turning out better than my real one?
16
Thrilled Me （Lincoln）
I stare down at my phone, wondering if I抳e reverted back to age fifteen.
Mom: Lincoln Burns, you tell me how you let this happen. How is it I find out from Cheryl that my only son is getting married to the beautiful new copywriter? Come home for lunch!
I snort, shaking my head as I type back, Cheryl was also supposed to tell you it抯 a ruse, Ma. It抯 marketing. Not matrimony.
Her reply flies back like a bullet.
Mom: Regardless, this is the closest I抳e ever seen you to love since that wretched woman. Come home, Lincoln. We need to talk.
I mutter about ten curses, swiping a hand over my face before I hit her contact and call.
Let抯 get this over with. Because if we keep texting, this shit will go back and forth all day.
Word travels too fast in this office. I just sent the email to Anna last night letting her know that Dakota and I decided to go along with this madness.
How the hell did Cheryl even find out? And why did she have to tell Mother the instant she heard the news?
揂re you on your way??Mom says breathlessly, picking up on the first ring.
揘o, Ma. I抦 working. It抯 the middle of the damn day.?
揑 guess your lovely assistant didn抰 forward your change of plans. You抮e visiting your elderly mother, so hop on the first ferry over to Bainbridge.?
My brows pull down. 揊or the record, you would抳e slapped me if I抎 called you my elderly棓
揑抦 glad you know your boundaries. I taught you well. Now, prove it by having lunch.?
揟here isn抰 much to talk about. It抯 a harebrained idea marketing drummed up to sell the new line. Anna pitched it as a weird sort of personal endorsement that will catch eyes, and she抯 right. We抮e new to the wedding scene. We don抰 have a chance in hell of competing with the big players unless we抮e bold and a little unorthodox.?
揗m-hmmm. Sure. Do you ever watch the Hallmark channel, Lincoln??
I actually laugh. Do I look like I have time to binge-watch love stories?
揧ou know I don抰， Ma. Why even ask??
揃ecause. Half of their movies start out with a fake relationship and end with a baby,?she says defiantly. 揘ow, since you agreed to this and that lovely young lady did too桰抦 holding out hope. Unless you paid her to do this? Oh, Lincoln. Please tell me she抯 not just in it for the money. Although plenty of great love stories start off that way, too!?
揗a!?I抦 so annoyed I could spit.
She laughs. 揧ou抮e just offended that I asked. I抣l see you in an hour, son.?
揑抣l think about it. You can抰 just tell me what to do,?I mutter halfheartedly.
揇o not disappoint me. And fake arrangement or not, I should have Miss Poe over for dinner soon. We have a spectacular wedding to plan.?She sighs. 揑 just wish your father was here to see it.?
揟here抯 nothing to see. It抯 a fake engagement and there抣l be wedding photos with no wedding.?
揘o wedding??She sounds aghast. 揥ell, we抣l just see about that. Are you on your way or what??
Damn her, she抯 insufferable.
揊ine,?I grind out, ending the call as I stalk to the elevator.
Roughly an hour later after a ride through traffic and a ferry hop with the cool breeze hitting me square in the face, I open Mother抯 front door.
She rushes over to hug me like she hasn抰 seen me for ten years.
揧ou抮e finally engaged. I don抰 have to live forever.?
揊ake engaged, Ma. And you won抰 die on us since Dad checked out early.?
She squeezes me tight before her embrace softens and releases me.
揘o one lives forever, and your father didn抰 go willingly, of course. He抎 never do that. It was just his time.?
Yeah. The last thing I want is to relive Dad抯 untimely demise.
揥hy am I here again??I ask.
揃ecause I抦 excited for you, Lincoln.?She claps her hands in front of her chest and then pinches my cheek. 揊ake or not, you抮e finally moving on.?
Fuck.
A terrible part of me wonders if she might be right, and if I am…what then?
揑抳e said it a dozen times and you抮e still not listening. I抦 not getting married. I抦 not even engaged. The crap is a marketing ploy, and nothing else. I don抰 plan on getting married for a few more lifetimes.?
A little pitchfork digs at my brain as my words turn over.
If that抯 true, why did I tell Dakota we抎 spend time together without any bystanders sniffing around until we find out how serious we can be?
Seriousness has its limits when I抳e sworn off marriage to the grave, right?
揅ome here, dear. I need to show you something.?She takes my hand and leads me to my father抯 study. The same room has served as the family library for years. It抯 barely changed since the day Dad died like a weird sort of memorial to him frozen in time.
Shelves line the soaring walls, overflowing with books.
The entire space breathes with a literary soul, whispering in ink and old pages, dreams and ideas and bygone wisdom. I抎 spend whole afternoons here growing up, my nose stuffed in a volume bigger than my head, teleported to Narnia, Neverland, and Middle Earth.
I wish like hell I was in a fairy tale now.
Then I wouldn抰 be standing here, watching as Ma moves to one well-organized shelf and starts pulling out books for some big lecture. Looks like she抯 milling around in fiction.
Sometimes she pulls a book out, scans the front cover, and replaces it quickly. When she抯 done rifling through them, she has a stack of paperbacks in vibrant red and white and pastel colors that she needs both hands to hold.
揌ere. Read at least three of them,?she says with a severe librarian look.
I look down. The first book on the stack has a man so airbrushed he can抰 be real with a woman in his arms and a grinning pig behind them.
Hog Fights Under City Lights: A Second Chance Romance by Emily Bristol.
揂w, Ma, you抮e kidding, right? I don抰 have time to read romance novels. Can抰 you skip to the point??Yeah, I already regret coming here.
揟hese are all fake relationships that turned into happily ever afters. I met Dakota at the office the day I brought cupcakes. You could do worse, you know. Oh, and I hope you found whoever was so rude to her and taught them some manners.?Her left eye twitches with this funny little tic she has when she抯 mad.
Considering the rude asshole was me, I抎 say the lesson was received.
Also, Nevermore抯 new name should be Snitch.
She holds the stack of books out for me insistently.
I make no effort to take them.
揂t least choose one!?
揗a, this is insane. Sure, life imitates art sometimes, but real relationships aren抰 based on lies and…？I pause, my eyes flicking to the top cover again. 揚igs who smile, apparently.?
揃oy, where is your imagination??she mutters under her breath before dropping the books on a table. 揊ine. Be that way. But if your 'marketing stunt' opens the door for you even a little bit, I抣l pray you don抰 mess this up.?
揟here will be no messing anything up. It抯 not real,?I tell her. 揑 want you to acknowledge that, Ma. Prove to me you抮e not losing it.?
She folds her arms and glares.
Okay, fine. Maybe I took it too far.
揂nd I抦 waiting for you to acknowledge I want grandbabies, Lincoln Burns. You let a few more years slip by and you won抰 be a spring rooster anymore.?