Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Your mom was so happy last night, Dallas.” She was beaming. And I like her. A lot. She’s sweet, and kind and exactly the kind of woman I would want as my mother-in-law. If this were real.
“Yeah. She was.”
“I’m wearing your grandmother’s engagement ring.” It’s stunning. And it shouldn’t be mine.
“I promise I’ll fix this, Wills. I won’t make this your cross to bear,” he says softly. It’s very clear that even though he continues to complicate my life with these media stunts, Dallas feels real remorse over how this has all played out.
“I’m not sure that’s possible.” Being his girlfriend was bad enough, but being his fiancée...
I push my plate away and stand. All I managed was two pieces of toast, a couple bites of egg, and one piece of bacon—but my appetite has disappeared. I leave Dallas looking forlorn and hop into the shower, wash off last night’s sins, and get ready for work.
I’m incredibly surprised—though maybe shouldn’t be—that the outfits Dallas had sent over for me are exactly my size. Option one is a pair of high-waisted, black dress pants, a pale blue chiffon blouse, and a white blazer. Option two is a teal dress with pockets. The fabric is soft, the cut is flattering, and it’s the obvious winner. He even bought me a pair of shoes, with a kitten heel, as well as fresh underwear. They’re nude, and seamless full coverage, but there are thong, bikini brief, and boy short options. Apparently, he wanted to cover all the bases for my booty.
By the time I’m ready, I feel less like garbage and slightly more human. “There wasn’t a receipt in the bag, so let me know what I owe you for these and I’ll e-transfer you the funds.” He must’ve asked Shilpa about my sizes.
Dallas is still shirtless. This is funny, since he went out of his way to make sure I was fully dressed but didn’t bother to get himself an extra T-shirt. Now he has to wear the one I slept in. He tucks one hand into the pocket of his dress pants as his gaze moves over me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was an appreciative sweep.
“It’s my fault you ended up in the state you did. The outfit is on me.”
I narrow my eyes. “Does it come with any strings attached?”
“The string is that you’re my fiancée for the next little while, Wilhelmina.” He moves in closer, eyes on mine. “As your significant other, who makes several million dollars a year, I will buy you things, including clothes. It’s my job to pay attention to you and your needs, and I failed at that last night.”
I’m too tired and my brain hurts too much to remind him that I’m his fake fiancée, so those rules don’t apply.
“I would like to drive you to work,” he states.
I could deny him and take an Uber, but I’m not in the mood to be nice to someone I know, let alone to someone I don’t know. “Okay, that would be good.”
“Great. Good. Let me box up the food. The fruit and muffins you can take to work.”
“What about the rest of it? Seems like a waste.”
“There are a couple of guys down the street from the hotel who are unhoused. They might like the waffles and stuff.”
I love that he has a plan in mind. Having worked with Flip the past couple of years, and having spent a lot of time with Rix, I’m aware that they often didn’t have enough growing up. When Flip isn’t helping Tristan coach kids with special needs or trying to keep his endorsement campaigns from being cancelled, he’s all about giving back to the community. He donates to school programs and foodbanks.
I gather my personal effects, which consist of last night’s panties, the dry-cleaning bag containing my dress, and a tiny clutch purse with my lipstick and phone. Dallas carries the extra clothes and takeout containers.
We leave the beautiful room that did not get the appreciation it should have and make our way to the lobby. As promised, Dallas gives two unhoused men our takeout boxes. The valet brings his car around—which means he somehow orchestrated getting it back here—and he drives me to the office.
When we arrive at work, I pause with my hand on the door handle. “Thanks for taking care of me last night.”
“I’d do it a million times over, Wills. I’m sorry I stressed you out to the point that you drank too much.”
“I’m responsible for my own actions, Dallas. At least Brooklyn and Sean’s engagement isn’t the biggest deal at the reunion anymore, right?” It seems so petty to even care.
“There’s that.” Dallas gives me a small smile. “I hope today doesn’t suck too badly for you.”
“Me too.”