13. Graham #2
I shake my head and follow her inside the house.
She waits at the end of the table while I rummage around in the bag, trying to find where she dropped the box.
Picking out the ring was easy. The simple diamond was perfect for Rosay, complimenting her delicate fingers without being gaudy.
While her personality might be flashy and her hair normally screams chaos, the jewelry she wears is dainty.
I had to push away the heaviness inside my chest as I paid for the ring, reminded of the last time, the last woman I bought one for.
Rosay and Bethany are worlds different. Even though this is a fake relationship, I don’t worry that Rosay has ulterior motives or is looking to screw me over. Her candor, though sometimes to her detriment, is one of the things I love most about her.
“Move out of the way.” Rosay nudges me over, sifting through the bag with ease and drawing out the box. She goes to open the box, but I snatch it back.
There’s a hum between us in the moments it takes for me to slip the ring out of the box and grab her hand.
My pulse thrums, and I swear my heart beat is audible.
I slide the ring onto her finger slowly, noting the conflicted feelings of excitement and hope rising in my chest. This isn’t real, but I’m slowly starting to realize I wish it was.
***
Meeting your fake fiancée’s family has to be the eighth circle of hell.
Bethany’s family welcomed me with open arms because I was a rising star in the finance field, someone their daughter would look nice on the arm of.
Did I know that when I first met them? No, but it became clear the longer we were together that they wanted a certain type of life for their daughter and saw me as the means to secure her future since they were in the process of cutting her off.
Every picture, every event, and every dinner was an opportunity to weave the tale of Bethany and Graham, the up and coming venture capitalist and the scene’s hottest new publicist. Her dreams were her sole focus as she made sure we attended every function in order to gain inside information on prospective clients.
Rosay’s family is the exact opposite.
“Beer?” Reign hands me a green bottle and leans against the counter. "Sometimes even I need a break from wine."
"Thank you," I say.
Up close, the wrinkles etched into his tan skin by sunlight are highlighted by the streaks of gray in his beard and hair. He clinks his bottle with mine, s taring me down with the same swirling brown irises as his daughter, while Rosay sinks into the couch beside Winnie.
“So, how did you two meet?” he asks.
“Dad,” Rosay groans.
“What, mija? I’m just trying to get to know my son-in-law, since you’ve kept him a secret from us for so long.”
"In Rosay's defense, it's actually my fault. I've been so busy with the takeover that I've barely had time to come up for air. She's been holding down the fort at home and at work."
"Just like her mother did," he says.
“We actually met a long time ago at one of Thompson’s famous finance mixers.” I pick up where we left off and glance at Rosay, whose eyebrows are drawn tight, creating a crinkle in the middle of her forehead I long to smooth away.
She doesn’t remember it, but I’ve never been able to forget meeting the tornado of a woman who shook my world as an executive at a startup.
I had just been recruited to evaluate businesses and market dynamics for an heiress looking to expand her reach, and the Thompson mixers were the place to make some headway.
Everyone was dressed to the nines, putting on their best suits and gowns to impress their potential investors. Rosay stood out among the crowd with her pink hair and even pinker dress. Surrounded by a gaggle of men with their tongues on the floor, she commanded the conversation.
I was enraptured by her candor, her wit, and the humor with which she let each man down when they asked her to grab a real drink after the mixer.
Approaching her would spell immediate defeat, so I stayed back, watching her work the room.
She found me in the corner, lounging at the edge of the bar.
In my black suit with a crisp white shirt that was admittedly n ot fitted, she assumed I was the bartender and commanded me to get her a drink.
What else could I do but oblige the woman who looked like she thirsted for so much more than the drink she was asking for. She was gone before I had a chance, pulled away by who I now know as Stella, her best friend.
“She ordered me to get her a drink then left me high and dry to go dancing with her friends.” Pink splotches form on Rosay’s cheeks as the realization settles on her, though she doesn’t call me out because it would make it seem like something is amiss.
“You took too long,” she says, going along with the story I’ve woven. “And when the music calls—”
“You must answer,” Reign finishes for her. They share a laugh, and he tilts his bottle to me. “She’s a born dancer. Six years of tango and bachata lessons.”
I arch a brow at her, tucking that information away into the recesses of my brain. A woman who knows how to dance surely knows how to fuck.
I take a swig of my beer. “I’d love to see video of that.”
“I’m sure I have a video around here somewhere,” another voice joins from the hallway. An older woman with short blonde hair strides toward Rosay with open arms. “Hi sweetheart, it’s so good to see you. And your hair looks beautiful.”
I hold my breath as Rosay unfolds herself from the couch. “Hi Wendy. Thanks for having us.”
Wendy waves her off. “This is your home too, you’re always welcome.” She turns and startles. “You must be Graham.”
Before I have a chance to answer, the door opens, and two bickering adults enter the room.
Their wheat blonde hair is almost identical, as well as thei r blue eyes and alabaster skin tone.
According to my research, they’re twins, though the height difference is astonishing.
Kieran towers over Waverly by at least six inches, and his imposing stature reminds me that I need to get back in the gym.
They stop and stare for a moment, most likely noting their newly blonde sister.
“Hey Rosie Posie.” Kieran shakes his surprise off and lifts Rosay, squeezing her like a bear. “It’s been too long.”
“I just talked to you yesterday,” Rosay responds once she has enough breath.
Working a crowd is part of Rosay’s charm, yet as she talks with her stepmom and siblings, I can see her caving in on herself, dampening that charm and wit I’ve been accustomed to. Something in my chest compels me to go over to her and wrap an arm around her shoulder.
“Graham.” Kieran extends his hand, shaking mine with a firm grasp. “Nice to finally meet you.”
I catch the emphasis on finally as if he’s heard of me before, but Rosay pulls on my arm in an attempt to distract me.
“This is Waverly,” she says, directing me toward a basic carbon copy of Wendy, except Waverly’s hair is pulled up into a tight bun and she carries this “take no shit” air about her where Wendy definitely has sweet English teacher vibes.
“It’s great to finally meet all of you. Sorry it took so long,” I say, squeezing Rosay’s shoulder in an effort to fill both of us with confidence. “It’s been a bit busy since the takeover.”
Reign and Kieran chuckle, and Waverly chimes in about how much of a culture shift it’s been since her hospital hired a new Chief of ER.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Reign says, though I don’t see anyone in the kitchen cooking. My confusion must show because he says, “The chefs are grilling right now.”
“We’r e having steak, I hope that’s alright,” Wendy says.
“That’s perfect.”
Rosay leans into me, nuzzling up to my ear and causing me to dig my fingers into her side so I don’t groan at her tropical breath coasting along my skin. “I ordered a medium rare steak, glazed parmesan brussel sprouts, and a sweet potato for you.”
She knows my exact order to a tee, something Bethany never cared to remember.
Something inexplicable encourages me to kiss her.
Her surprised hum as our lips connect floods my veins with a heady mixture of adrenaline and arousal, but I’m aware enough to remember we have an audience, so I release her far before I’m ready to.
I stare down into her blown pupils, happy to know it’s not just me that’s affected by this tension between us.
A cleared throat bursts our bubble, and we turn toward her family who all have varying stages of surprise on their faces.
Reign and Wendy’s genuine smiles are what I notice first, then Winnie’s sheer excitement, and both Kieran and Waverly’s slightly furrowed brows and hesitant smiles.
“Ready to eat?” Kieran claps his hands together and walks to the back door. “Because I’m starving.”
I hang back for a moment, tugging on Rosay’s hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” She nods, almost unsure. “It’s just a little weird.”
“What is?” I ask, walking slowly behind the rest of the family as they exit the house.
She wavers on the threshold, chewing on her bottom lip. The expanse of the deck stretches out before us, tapering off into rolling hills, but my focus is singular.
“They like you,” she says.
I scoff. “I’m a likable guy. Not sure why that surprises you.”
Her eye r oll makes me want to take her over my knee, and I almost tell her that, but she slips out the door, leaving me in the dust.