Chapter 13
THE RING
DEREK
I stood in my living room, phone in hand and scrolling through the list of questions we might face tonight.
“When did you two start dating?” I muttered to myself, practicing the answer we agreed on. “We reconnected when Paige came to me about the divorce. Realized we had been denying our feelings for years.”
It sounded plausible. Almost true, which was the most dangerous part.
The best lies were always wrapped in truth.
I tugged at my bow tie, checking my reflection in the window. The tuxedo fit perfectly with a black jacket and crisp white shirt. I looked the part of a successful attorney attending a charity gala with his stunning girlfriend.
Fake girlfriend, I reminded myself. It’s all fake.
So why did that kiss earlier feel so devastatingly real?
I had to turn away from her, put distance between us before she noticed exactly how affected I was. How fucking hard I had gotten just from one kiss. The feel of her mouth on mine, the small sound she had made when I deepened the kiss, the way she fisted my shirt like she needed to hold on to me—
I cleared my throat, fighting the heat pooling low in my gut, and looked back at my phone. “Next question, how serious are things between you?”
Pretty fucking serious.
The guest room door opened behind me, and I turned. “Hey, we should probably go over—”
The words died on my tongue.
Paige stood in the hallway, and my phone nearly slipped from my fingers.
The emerald green dress I had delivered hugged every skin with softer and sinful curves that were fuller after Lily.
The neckline dipped just low enough to make my mouth go dry, and the fabric clung to her waist before flowing to just above her knees. That was one dangerous fucking dress.
Her blonde hair was swept to one side, exposing the elegant line of her neck. She had done something with makeup that made her eyes look impossibly large, impossibly gold, and her lips—
Fuck me. Her red lips made me remember exactly how they felt pressed against mine.
“Is it too much?” She asked, smoothing her hands down the dress nervously. “I can change if—”
“No,” I said roughly and cleared my throat to try again. “No, you look... you look perfect, Paige.”
Perfect didn’t even begin to cover it. She was beautiful, but she had been off-limits for so long that I had trained myself not to notice. Not to look at her that way. Not to let my thoughts wander down paths that would only torture me.
Now, with permission to look—with an actual contract giving me permission—I couldn’t fucking stop. And it was overwhelming.
I want to peel that dress off and bury myself in her while she makes the same sound she did when we kissed.
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said, blushing. “Very James Bond.”
“I was going for Ryan Gosling, but I’ll take it,” I said, even though my brain was still short-circuiting.
She laughed, and the sound made me feel warm. I looked away and saw her empty hands.
Oh, the ring.
“I, uh—” I fumbled with the velvet box in my pocket, my usually steady hands turning clumsy. “I-I got you something for tonight a-and to make it look more…”
“Real?” she asked softly.
“Y-yeah,” I said, opening the box, and even in the low lighting of my living room, the soft diamond glittered between us. “Real.”
Paige’s eyes widened. “Derek, that’s… that’s too much. I can’t wear that.”
“You can, and you will. It’s perfect for you.” I pulled the ring from the box, and my hands were shaking.
When was the last time my hands had shaken? When I held Lily for the first time.
“And people will expect to see a ring. We’re supposed to be madly in love, remember?”
She stared at the ring as if it might bite her. “It must have cost a fortune.”
“It’s an investment in selling our story.” That was technically true, even though I had spent three hours yesterday at the jeweler’s finding one that matched her eyes. Even if I imagined sliding it onto her finger for real.
“Please, Paige. Wear it tonight?”
I was about to get on my knees when she bit her lip and slowly extended her left hand. I took it gently, aware of how small her hand looked in mine, how delicate her fingers were.
The diamond ring slid on her middle finger (I hadn’t proposed to her yet) as if it had been made for her. Which, technically, it had been since I had guessed the size correctly.
“It fits,” she whispered, staring at her hand like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Yeah,” I said, my throat feeling tight. “It does.”
We stood there for a moment too long, her hand still in mine, both of us staring at the ring that symbolized something fake but felt extremely real.
Then she pulled away, and the spell broke.
“The babysitter should be here any minute,” I said, checking my watch to avoid looking at her. To avoid doing something stupid like pulling her back to me and kissing her again. “Her name’s Sarah. She came highly recommended, has references, and—”
“Derek,” Paige said, touching my arm, and even through the tuxedo jacket I felt the warmth of her hand. “Thank you. For everything. The dress, the ring, arranging childcare. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to,” I said with a small smile. I didn’t like that she kept thanking me for little things. I wanted to do everything for her.
The doorbell rang, and I went to let Sarah in. A young woman in her twenties with a friendly smile and a backpack full of children’s books. I introduced her to Lily, who was fortunately in one of her charming moods, and went over the emergency numbers and bedtime routine.
Paige hovered, reluctant to leave her daughter even though we would only be gone a few hours. I watched her kiss Lily’s forehead, smooth down her onesie and whisper something.
“She’ll be fine,” I said in a soft voice. “Sarah knows what she’s doing.”
“I know. I’ve just... never left her with a stranger before.”
“We’ll come back soon,” I said, offering my arm. “Ready to become the most talked-about couple in the city?”
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and slipped her hand through my arm. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
In the car, I pulled up the list of questions on my phone and handed it to her.
“We should rehearse,” I said, driving out of the garage. “Make sure our stories line up.”
“When did we start dating?” She asked, scrolling through the list.
“We reconnected when you came to me about the divorce,” I said. “Started talking more. Realized we had been denying our feelings for years, and life’s too short to play it safe.”
“Life’s too short to play it safe,” she repeated, and smiled. “That sounds really good.”
“It’s plausible. Fits the timeline. And it’s close enough to the truth that we won’t trip ourselves up.”
Too close to the truth, a voice in my head whispered. I had been denying my feelings for years. Decades, even.
“What about Jack?” Paige asked. “People will want to know about the divorce. About why I left.”
“We keep it vague. ‘Irreconcilable differences’ is the standard line. If anyone pushes, we say we’re not comfortable discussing your previous marriage out of respect for Lily.”
“And if Jack is there tonight?”
“He won’t be,” I said, my hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I checked the guest list. His firm wasn’t invited.”
I had made sure of that.
“You checked the guest list?”
“I told you. Thoroughness is my thing.” I glanced at her, and she was smiling. “What?”
“Nothing. Just... you really think of everything, don’t you?”
“I try.” I turned my attention back to the road, but I could feel her watching me. “Next question, how serious are things?”
“Very serious,” Paige said. “We’re taking it one day at a time, but we’re committed to seeing where this goes. I mean, you got me this huge-ass diamond ring.”
“That is true. And if anyone asks about marriage—”
“It’s too soon to talk about that. We’re focused on the present. Despite the ring.”
“Perfect,” I said, steering the wheel. “You’re a natural at this.”
“Years of dealing with our lawyer friends,” she said. “I learned how to dodge invasive questions.”
We ran through a few more scenarios. What we would say if someone asked about our first date (the deli, which was technically true), our favorite thing about each other (I had a whole list prepared, she stumbled through something about my dedication), how we managed working together while dating (carefully with clear boundaries).
By the time we pulled up to the venue, a historic mansion lit up like something from a fairytale, we had our story down and we sounded like a genuine couple. We had both history and chemistry.
I parked and turned to Paige, and in the glow of the mansion’s lights, she looked ethereal. Like something I had dreamed about.
“Last chance to back out,” I said, even though the thought of her saying yes made my chest tight with panic.
She looked at the mansion, at the people streaming up the marble steps in their designer gowns and tuxedos, then back at me.
“No backing out,” she said with a small grin. “Let’s do this.”
I got out and moved around to open her door, offering my hand. She took it, and the feel of her palm against mine sent electricity up my arm. We walked up the steps together, her hand in the crook of my elbow.
At the entrance, a photographer from the society pages was stationed, snapping photos of arriving guests. I felt Paige tense beside me.
“Everyone’s staring,” she whispered, her hold on me tightening.
“You look stunning, that’s why,” I said, glancing at her.
She pursed her lips and met my eyes. “I feel like I’m wearing a sign that says ‘home-wrecker.’”
“Hey, you’re not the one who cheated. Remember that,” I said, leaning down and brushed my lips across her cheek, smelling her sweet perfume. “Jack’s going to lose his mind.”
She looked up at me, and for a moment, I forgot we were acting. Forgot about the contract and the fake relationship.
“Smile,” I whispered, pulling her closer. “We’re madly in love, remember? Let’s put on a show for them.”
The photographer’s flash went off, capturing us frozen in that moment.
We stepped inside, and the noise hit us immediately. Laughter, conversation and the clink of champagne glasses. Musicians played in the corner. Servers circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres. The room was full of the city’s elite like lawyers, judges, politicians, and socialites.
And then I saw him.
Jack, standing by the bar with a drink in his hand, and Olivia pressed against his side.
My blood went cold. I had checked the guest list. His firm hadn’t been invited. Then why the fuck is he here?
Paige saw him at the same moment I did. I felt her entire body go rigid beside me, her grip on my arm tightened until her nails dug in through my jacket.
And then Jack turned and saw us. He saw Paige in her emerald dress with her hand on my arm and my ring on her finger.
His face went from confused to shocked to absolutely furious in the span of four seconds.
He started walking toward us, Olivia scrambling to keep up, and I knew with absolute certainty that the night was about to go off the rails.