Chloe’s face contorted as if her wine had suddenly turned bitter. “That’s huge! And who’s the brave guy?”
“Roman Blackwood. You know, my best friend. He works in finance.” I lied, my heart pounding as I said it without a hint of hesitation.
Chloe’s brows shot up in surprise. “Roman? The one who always texts you during family dinners and sends Dad cigars at Christmas? That Roman?”
I forced a smile, doing my best to keep my composure. “The very one. We’ve kept it quiet. Didn’t want to steal anyone’s thunder.”
Chloe blinked, processing the information. “Hmm. I mean… good for you. I didn’t think you were the relationship type, but here we are. Must be something in the air.”
“Must be,” I replied, turning toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water, my fingers trembling just enough to clink the glass against the tap.
“But, uh, let’s not tell the family just yet. We’re still figuring out the timing. You know Roman is always busy and only gets to take two vacations in a year, and I’m always busy booking meetings and controlling schedules. We don’t want to get overwhelmed with the whole process. You understand, right?”
Chloe rose, grabbing her purse, that same serene smile still gracing her face as she headed for the door.
“Crystal,” she said, her voice sweet as honey. “I’ve got you. Love you, sis.”
And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind the lingering scent of her perfume… and a whirlwind of chaos.
Almost immediately, my phone began vibrating insistently in my bag. After a frantic search that felt like an eternity, I finally fished it out, only to nearly drop it with a shriek.
Chloe had opened her mouth and told literally everyone in our family that I was getting married.
The family group chat was exploding with messages. Mom, Dad, our older sister Alyssa, Aunt Janice, Aunt Thelma, Uncle Jace… literally everyone who had seen me in diapers!
Shit!
I had to warn Roman.
I didn’t merely knock on the door; I pounded on it with all the urgency of a storm.
Moments later, Roman’s door swung open, and there he stood, clad only in a pair of dazzlingly white Calvin Klein boxer briefs, his tousled hair a testament to his deep slumber.
I couldn’t help but smirk. This was Roman, after all-he often preferred the freedom of nudity while sleeping.
“Nice boxers. Very… spiritual monk energy you’ve got going on,” I quipped, breezing past him and into the warmth of his apartment.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he groaned, “It’s one in the morning. Did you set something on fire again?”
With a swift kick, I shut the door behind me, only to feel the heel of my shoe snap off in the process. “Just my life,” I muttered, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
Roman sighed, his expression shifting from sleepy annoyance to concern as he knelt down to help me with my shoes, as he always did without a word of complaint.
“Roman, I did something horrible,” I confessed, my voice trembling slightly.
His face transformed, seriousness replacing the casual demeanor. He moved quickly to the windows, peeking out before shutting them tight, as if we were plotting something illicit.
“How bad is it? Do I need to hide a body or bail you out of jail? Be honest,” he urged, his tone both teasing and alarmed.
“My sister’s getting married,” I said, breathless, the weight of my words hanging in the air.
“I’m lost,” he replied, brow furrowing in confusion.
“To Dean Archer,” I added, my heart racing.
Roman’s frown deepened. “Wait, the Dean Archer?”
I nodded, feeling the gravity of the situation settle over us like a heavy blanket.
He paused, his mind racing. “Shit. Can she do that? Isn’t there a code against that?”
“She told me as if she were announcing a partnership at Vogue. In freaking pastel,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
Roman pulled me into a comforting embrace, his warmth wrapping around me like a shield. “I’m so sorry, love. I’ll make popcorn and ice cream. We can watch Scream, and you can call in sick at the office tomorrow,” he suggested, his voice soothing.
I spun around dramatically, feeling a rush of dizziness as Roman instinctively reached out to steady me, his hand resting firmly at my waist.
“Savannah-careful. Vertigo?” he asked, concern lacing his words.
I dropped to my knees in the middle of his kitchen, clasping my hands together as if begging for mercy. “Please don’t kill me. I lied. I did a very, very bad thing.”
Roman squinted, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. “What did you do?”
“Say you forgive me first,” I insisted, my heart racing.
“Savannah.”
“Say it, Roman. Or I’m never getting up.”
He groaned, exasperated. “Fine. I forgive you. Now stand up before I have to carry you.”
I stood, brushing myself off, and blurted out, “I told Chloe we’re engaged.”
Roman blinked, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You what?”
“She was so smug and shiny, waving her invitation card like it was a disco ball, and I panicked. I told her we’ve been secretly in love this whole time.”
He rubbed a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “You showed up here at midnight to ask me to be your fake fiancé because you lied to your entire family to one-up your sister?”
“Yes,” I replied, feeling the absurdity of it all wash over me.
He leaned against the counter, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was supposed to be in Tuscany next week. There are hot models, clubs, parties, cocktails, poolside massages… Magnificent D cups… You know what happens in Tuscany.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.