Three
“SO YOU ACTUALLY GOT a ring?” Ruth asked three weeks later.
“Of course I got a ring.” Carter frowned at her over his shoulder. They were in the kitchen of his family home—a mansion by any estimation and a degree of luxury Ruth still wasn’t used to, even after fake dating him for a month and a half. It was almost nine in the evening, and Carter had called Ruth on his way back from Charlotte an hour ago, explaining his mother was back in town (from a monthlong yoga retreat in the desert). Since tonight would be a good time to casually bump into her and meet her for the first time, Ruth had driven over.
Since she’d been working all day on the three new jobs she’d gotten thanks to Carter’s contacts and neither one of them had had a chance to eat dinner, Carter had suggested making sandwiches. He was currently slicing a loaf of freshly baked sourdough that looked scrumptious.
“We’re supposed to get engaged next weekend. How is that supposed to happen without a ring?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I hadn’t even thought about it. It seems a shame to waste money on an engagement ring since it’s going to be for so little time. I hope you didn’t spend too much money on it.”
“I didn’t spend too much money.” He slanted her another backward look. This one slightly impatient. “And I don’t want to hear any complaints about money. This engagement was your idea. Just remember that. I never would have suggested such a ludicrous scheme.”
She chuckled at his aggrieved expression. She kind of liked when he was grumpy like that. Not that he was ever mean or even genuinely bad-tempered. Rather, it was like he’d shed the veneer of perfect civility that he nearly always wore.
The grumpiness made him feel more real.
“Okay. Can I at least see the ring? Where is it?”
“It’s hidden safely away. I’m not going to tell you where.”
“What? So you’re not even going to show it to me?”
“It’s an engagement ring. It’s not supposed to be seen until the proposal.” Carter was now buttering four thick slices of bread and laying them out neatly on the counter. He already had a pan heating on the stovetop beside him.
“But it’s not real!”
“Who cares about that? It will be more convincing if you look genuinely surprised.”
“I can act surprised. I’m a great actress.”
Carter appeared to be smiling as he layered sliced cheese—cheddar and gruyere—on the bread. “You’re an okay actress. You’re not as good as you think.”
“I am too as good as I think!” Her cheeks were warming, and she was strangely flustered. She wasn’t quite sure why. “I mean, I’m good by anyone’s standards.”
“But you’re more convincing if you’re feeling something for real. So you don’t get to see the ring until the proposal.”
She grumbled under her breath and tried not to enjoy too much the sight of Carter’s broad shoulders, straight back, and tight butt in his expensive clothes. He was wearing a suit today, but he’d taken off his jacket and tie. The back of his shirt was slightly wrinkled. “The more I get to know you, the more obnoxious you get.”
“And the more I know you, the more stubborn you get.” He was laughing silently. She could tell because his shoulders were shaking just slightly. “You don’t always have to get your way.”
“I don’t always expect to get my way!” Her mouth actually fell open at this unprovoked attack.
“Not in a spoiled way,” he explained. “You’re not spoiled or entitled at all. It’s more that you’re confident in your own decision-making, and you can’t always understand why the world doesn’t follow the sense and discernment of your ideas.”
Her heartbeat was accelerating now. Jitters awoke deep in her belly. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“It’s definitely true.” He threw her a quick, amused smile before placing the two sandwiches carefully in the hot pan.
“Well, if it’s true, it’s only because my decisions are full of sense and discernment. The world should recognize that.”
He laughed out loud. “Quite true.”
“So you should show me the ring.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Asshole.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called an asshole before.”
The sizzle in the pan was so tempting that Ruth got up to stand beside Carter and watch the progress of the grilled cheese. She was starving. “That’s because you have a sneaky way of hiding your asshole-ness from the rest of the world by pretending to be a nice guy. But I can see it.”
He gave her another one of those adorable sidelong smiles. “So I’m not a nice guy?”
“You are a nice guy. And also a little bit of an asshole.”
A sliver of awareness sliced through her internal giddiness, reminding her that no matter how well she and Carter were getting along, it was only because they were temporary allies in this fake-engagement plot. She wasn’t going to be stupid about a man again. She wasn’t going to let herself get hurt.
So she cleared her throat and said, “So if you won’t show me the ring, we at least need to decide on the proposal. I was thinking that since you know I’m going to say yes, you can go all out and do a big public proposal. Something really over the top.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He checked a corner of the grilled bread and turned down the heat slightly.
“Oh good. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to do anything too splashy. But I think it might seal the deal with your friends and family. Kind of show what Summer said a few weeks ago about you really letting go.”
“I said I agree.” He was staring down at the pan. “I get it. I’m an uptight, repressed bore, and no one will believe I’m really in love unless I go to ridiculous, embarrassing lengths to prove it.”
“Carter.” She gave him a poke. “That’s not it at all. You’re not a bore.”
“Just uptight and repressed.” This time the corner of his lips was twitching slightly, which was a relief. Proved he wasn’t genuinely hurt.
“Maybe a little. But most of us are. We can’t all let it all hang out like Lincoln. What kind of disastrous world would that be? Can you imagine the chaos of a world full of Lincolns?”
He chuckled as he flipped the sandwiches. He was now smiling down at the pan.
Reminding herself for the hundredth time not to let Carter’s expression go to her head or make her think things that just weren’t true, she asked, “So what should we do for the proposal? Something really fun and splashy. I was thinking—”
“I’ve got my own ideas.”
“Okay. I’m sure your ideas are good. They’re probably not quite as good as my ideas...” She waited for Carter’s dubious expression at that comment and wasn’t disappointed. “But I’m sure they’re all right. What are you thinking?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“What? You have to tell me!”
“Why?”