I noiselessly slip out the door and glide down the hall. I’m the only one up at this early hour, and I want to keep it that way. I tread down the back stairs, grab a glass of water, and head through the porch door. I fill my lungs with the crisp morning air, clearing my head. Maybe it will erase the last twelve hours, and I can pretend I didn’t almost kiss Quinn.

I walk down the wooden footpath that leads to the beach; the warped boards creak and groan under my weight. Soon I’ll be watching the soft light of dawn burst over the Atlantic, and I can forget that I came close to losing control.

I was the last one to leave dinner last night, and even then, I couldn’t make myself go back to my room. I knew Quinn would be asleep, but I couldn’t imagine lying in that bed with Quinn inches away.

My feet hit the pebbly shoreline, and I start walking. The first pink and orange streaks of dawn are blossoming over the dark horizon. lighting my way. I want to say I lost it when Quinn said Zach tried to touch her; the thought of him laying his hands on my girl made me want to break something—preferably, his face. I want to say my self-control cracked when Quinn’s lips pursed and her cheeks flushed and her breaths made her breasts strain against that ridiculous dress. I want to say it was that dress. But I’d be wrong. Our relationship crossed over from fake to complicated a while ago.

At least for me.

I sigh and pick up my pace. It isn’t one thing that sent me over the edge, it’s a million little things, and it’s going to take all of my self-control to not screw things up again. Every time I see Quinn, I want to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me. I want to let myself get lost in the soft curves that present themselves so seductively each time she moves, talks, smiles, sleeps. I want to have her—all of her.

I turn around and head for home. It’s clear from our near-kiss last night that my girlfriend doesn’t feel the same, and I won’t jeopardize what we already have to quench my thirst. I’m not used to women fighting me like this. Tessa had made a fool out of herself so far, pouting, touching, shaking her tits at me. Tessa had even slipped a note under my door sometime during the night, saying she was available the moment I got bored with Quinn.

Bored with Quinn? Highly doubtful. That girl kept me on my toes.

I trot up the porch steps to find my father sitting in his favorite Adirondack chair. A mug of coffee and the Sunday morning newspaper rest on the side table to his right.

“You’re up early,” he says.

“I could say the same for you.”

“You know how keyed up I get before a big event like tonight,” he says. “My tossing and turning would keep your mother up, and she needs her beauty sleep.”

“I didn’t sleep so well myself,” I admit. Try, not at all. I was too nervous I’d wake up with my arms around Quinn, unable to let go.

“Where’d you go?” my father asks.

“The beach.”

“Any goal in mind?”

I shrug. “Needed to think.”

We stare at each for a moment; unsaid words hang in the air between us.

My father heaves to his feet. “I want to show you something. Walk with me.”

I follow my father down the hall into his study. He motions me toward the big leather couch, joining me after he closes the door.

“I like Quinn,” he says, settling into the cushions.

“Uh, glad to hear it.”

“Your mom likes her, too. So do Dalton and Faith, and pretty much everyone who’s met her.”

“Are you polling your family now?” I ask dryly.

“What I’m saying is that I have no idea how you coerced that woman into dating you, but well done.”

I sigh. “Is there a point to this, Father?”

He nods and leans forward. “Have you thought about proposing?”

“Excuse me?”

“Popping the question,” he explains, like putting it another way would help.

“Definitely no,” I say, furrowing my brow. “I only had to have a girlfriend, Father. That was our agreement.”

My father shakes his head. “This has nothing to do with our agreement. I see you two together, and from what I can tell, you’re in love.”

One-sided love.

“At first, I only saw her as important to the campaign and your image. But now, I believe she’s important to you, Archie.”

I don’t trust myself to speak. He has no idea how right he is.

“She’s intelligent, beautiful, hardworking, and doesn’t have any scandals like some of those other women you’ve—”

“That was just for fun, Father,” I interrupt. “I wasn’t seriously involved with them.”

“And you are with Quinn?” he asks.

I pause. I was, wasn’t I?

“Yes,” I murmur.

“Then propose.” My father stands up and walks over to a Gauguin. He pulls the painting away from the wall, and it swivels on hinges to reveal a safe.

“I want you to have something, for when you decide if Quinn’s the girl for you,” my father says, twisting the knob four times and opening the door. He pulls out a small black box, shuts the door, replaces the painting, and walks back to me.

“This belonged to my mother,” my father says, handing me the box. I take it, already knowing what’s inside. There are very few things that come in navy blue velvet boxes with “HW” embossed on the top.

“Open it,” he urges.

I ease back the lid to see a flawless marquis-cut engagement ring. “I thought Dalton used the family ring?” I ask.

“He did, but that ring is from your mother’s side. This was my mother’s, and I know she’d want you to have it.”

I glance at my father and then back at the glittering ring. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “Your mother and I would be happy to have such an heirloom grace the finger of Quinn—or whomever you choose to marry.”

He leans over and grasps my shoulder. “We’re so proud of you, Archie. I know this campaign hasn’t been easy for you and that it’s taken away from your work, but look at how it turned out. Maybe that deal we struck wasn’t so terrible, after all?”

I nod slowly, my eyes still glued to the ring in my hands. My father was right; if it wasn’t for his campaign and our deal, I never would have met Quinn.

“You know…” my father says, standing up, “it wouldn’t be horrible if you decided to propose tonight.”

I snap my head up. “Tonight?”

“During the fundraiser. Just think of how it would look—you proposing to Quinn in front of all our honored guests…” He winks at me. “It would be quite a tear-jerker.”

I stiffen. “You’d use my proposal for your campaign?”

My father frowns. “Nonsense, Archie. I was just thinking out loud.”

“Haven’t we done enough for you, Father?” I snap.

“Archie—”

“Do you really like Quinn, or do you only see her as some campaign puppet?”

My father sits back down. “I’m sorry, Archie, I had no idea you’d get so upset. You really do love her, don’t you?”

He gives me a small smile. “Forget what I said. Sometimes I put my foot in my mouth. I know we have two more months of this campaign, but it’s already taking its toll on me. I knew it would be hard, but…”

He trails off, and suddenly I see the past few months through my father’s eyes. While Quinn and I attend these events as guests, my father is the host, giving speeches and working the room. At the end of all this, Quinn and I go back to our jobs, but for my father, it means seeing his dreams come true or shattered.

“It’s okay, Father,” I say. “I know you didn’t mean it that way.”

“You propose when you’re good and ready, son,” he says, standing up and walking to the door. “I’m going to go wake your mother. We’ve got quite a show to put on tonight.”

I stay on the couch long after my father has left, asking myself one question: do I really love Quinn?

We spend all our time together, and she is hot, and I haven’t been laid in three months. Maybe what I took for love is actually just lust.

“Quite the show to put on.” That’s all this is—a show, an act. Quinn and I are simply a dangerous game of smoke and mirrors.

I gaze at the symbol in my hands. Then maybe tonight will be my closing act.