Three months feels like…a while. On the other hand, Dad is going to keep on with his importuning until the special election is over…and maybe even after. Maybe three months will be about right. The election will be over by then, and he’ll have one fewer reason to bug me. Hopefully.
But there’s another matter. “What about your…um…ladies? Like, your girlfriends.”
He looks at me in surprise. “What about them?”
“Are you going to see them during our, you know…our fake engagement?” I know it’s unrealistic to expect him to give up that part of his life. David is incredibly social, and lots of women flit in and out of his life.
But the idea of him with other women during the three months bothers me anyway. I know we aren’t talking about a real relationship, but it’d still be humiliating if he “cheated” and got caught on camera.
At the same time, I feel a little ridiculous. I’m the one who came up with this outrageous plan. I shouldn’t expect him to sacrifice.
His expression softens, and he starts to reach for my hand, then changes his mind and pats my shoulder. “All this is happening because I asked you to bail me out of a situation. I promise I won’t do anything to embarrass or hurt you.”
I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Okay, then,” David says. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Fifteen
David
What the hell were you thinking? The voice in my head sounds like some unholy Greek-chorus combination of Derek, Trent and Matt.
Nothing, except that Erin sounded logical. And that her proposal would solve both our problems. Three months isn’t that long, and I want to show Shelly that she can scheme until her head spins but nothing’s going to work. That includes talking to the media and confronting Erin.
And Fordham is a bonus.
Really? He isn’t the main reason?
Of course not. It’ll also get Mom off my back for a while. She needs to understand that I have long-term options other than Shelly.
Besides, the arrangement is for my own good. I don’t want Erin distracted. Distractions can tank productivity. I wasn’t myself for a couple of months after I broke up with Shelly two years ago.
I check with security again, just in case, and they assure me that the garage is still clear. I text Kathleen—my fashion model cousin—for help checking Erin’s place out, because she has contacts for people who manage this sort of thing. Reporters are probably swarming around her apartment like ants over honey, and if so, I need to make a plan to accommodate Erin. Kathleen agrees without asking any questions. She might’ve already seen the coverage.
Erin and I step into an empty elevator car. As we descend, Erin clears her throat. “So. Now what?” she asks.
I have zero firsthand knowledge about fake engagements or being hounded by the tabloids, but I’m not about to admit to that. How hard can it be to figure it out, anyway? Can’t be more complicated than launching a multimillion-dollar marketing campaign.
“First off, we should get you a ring.” That’s usually the initial step.
“Oh.” She looks down.
Her hands are slim and delicate, the fingers long, pretty…and ringless. I realize I’ve never seen her with jewelry other than earrings. She deserves something special—worthy of my “she’s mine” declaration. And I know exactly where to go.
“Right.” She clears her throat again. “Won’t look believable otherwise.”
“Exactly.” She looks at me like I should continue telling her the rest of what we need to do. Since I’m making things up, I add, “And go from there.”
“Okay.” She’s quiet for a moment. “We don’t have to live together or anything, do we?”
My heart skips a beat. I didn’t even think about that, but… It’s a big step. Shelly’s the only woman I’ve ever lived with. The memory makes me want to tug at my collar. Damn, I was an idiot back then.
“Do you want to?” I ask carefully.
“No.”
For some reason, the answer bugs me. It’s logical for her to not want to give up her space when it’s only for a few months. But she doesn’t have to act like I asked her if she’d like to dance nude at the company’s Christmas party.