Fake Fiancée

His lips stopped my words.

We kissed in the street, our arms tight around each other.

I was never letting him go.

Another cheer, louder this time, came from across the street, and I glanced over his shoulder.

Tate appeared on the edge of the their property, the streetlight illuminating the little smile he wore. He yelled out. “Hey, Sunny! Glad you’re back! Sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks,” I said softly.

He looked at Max. “Dude. I know you’re in the middle of making out, but they called your fucking name! You’re one of the finalists! We’re going to New York! You’re fucking in.” He whooped. “There’s people waiting to congratulate you, mate. Just, um, whenever you two get done with all the mushy shit.”

I laughed as he walked away.

“You should go back over there,” I said. “They’re all waiting. I need to freshen up and unpack anyway.”

He laced our fingers together. “I’m not going anywhere without you. In fact, I have a surprise for you.”

He tugged me toward his house, and I followed my heart skipping.

Had I ever been this happy? Ever? No.

We popped into the party through the back gate and the entire place erupted in cheers. Max garnered backslaps and congratulatory man hugs. His dad embraced him. Isabella and Ash ran up to me and asked about my trip. He kept me firmly by his side the entire time, refusing to let my hand go. I didn’t mind.

Ten minutes later, much to my surprise, he announced we were leaving. Most begged him to stay, except for Tate and Isabella who seemed to be in on the surprise.

“Where are we going?” I asked as he led me to his car, which had brand new tires on it. I didn’t ask about Felix. He’d told me most of what had happened and no way did I want to bring him up when this was our moment.

“You’ll see,” he said as he tucked me in the passenger side, and once again I was reminded of that first day when he’d given me a ride to class. I grabbed his hand, tugged him to me and kissed him hard. My hands squeezed his face and poured everything I had bottled up for the past few weeks. Our mouths clung. Hot and fast.

He growled under his breath. “You keep this up and we won’t be going anywhere.”

He drove out of the parking spot, and a few minutes later we pulled up to the Leland football stadium.

I quirked an eyebrow as he parked. “You know it’s closed, right?”

“Cookie, please. I know people. This is my turf, and if I want it opened, they’re gonna open it. See, the lights are even on.”

We got out and walked into a brightly lit stadium. He led me to the entryway to the stands and over to his Dad’s season seats. The very same place where I’d watched his games.

“You just can’t get enough of this place, can you?” I teased.

He just shrugged. “Will you sit down?”

I did.

He knelt down in front of me—and my heart flew away.

I couldn’t breathe. “Max?” Only it came out as a wheeze.

He gazed at me with tremulous eyes, his face as serious as I’d ever seen it.

“I asked you to marry me here, and it nearly messed everything up. I used a fake ring that my best friend picked out.”

I swallowed.

He eased the engagement ring he’d given me off my finger, slipping it in his pocket.

He pulled a small black box from his other pocket. “But this . . . this is a ring that I picked out yesterday. I searched every jewelry store until I found the perfect one. The idea that you might be pregnant had nothing to do with me buying it. Maybe that was another reason I didn’t ask you about that test strip. I wanted this moment to be about us—nothing else.” He paused. Our eyes locked. “I love you, Sunny Blaine, and I want you to marry me. For real.” He opened the box, revealing a heart-shaped diamond ring.

I gasped. It was huge. It was beautiful. It was mine.

With sure hands, he slid it on my finger and looked up at me. “For the rest of my life, I want you. Forever.”

The butterflies in my stomach went crazy. I nodded. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me under the lights of a quiet stadium.

There was no Jumbotron. No cheering fans. Just us.

It was everything.

He was everything.

We were everything.

Two Years Later . . .

MAX JUMPED IN OUR KING-SIZED bed like it was a trampoline and stuck his cold feet against my naked back. I yelped, smacked him on the arm, and wiggled away from him. “Stop it, Quarterback! I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“I haven’t had you yet,” he growled and turned me over to my back, tickling my ribs as he rubbed scruff down my chest, kissing and nuzzling my stomach.

I laughed at his antics, which turned passionate as he went lower, his mouth finding the curve of my knee, the sensitive area on my hipbone. He ran his fingers around my back, idly tracing the lines of one of my scars. He paid special attention to them.

“I’ve never been this happy,” he murmured against my neck.

Deep contentment coursed through me. “I know. Me too.”

I thought back over the past two years. He’d won the Heisman and a National Championship. Then, we’d gone to New York for the draft where he’d been the number one pick for the New York Giants. I took a second to gaze out of our high-rise window overlooking the Manhattan skyline. With his signing bonus and a monetary gift from his dad, we were living in an upscale area with tree-lined streets and adorable coffee places.