When it comes time to enter my fake fiancé's office, I suddenly feel very shy. He's been my secret lover but now that it's out in the open, things feel different. Not better, not worse, just different.
"Liz," Derek says, as soon as he sees me. "Thank you."
He comes over to me and picks me up; then he sits me on his desk.
"That was amazing."
"It was very convincing, wasn't it?" I ask him.
"How did you come up with all of that stuff?" he asks. "You even knew about designer wedding dresses."
"When one is locked in her room all day by her mean mother, she has time to do a lot of reading on a lot of different topics."
"So, you don't really have those things planned out for our wedding?" Derek asks.
I laugh, but he looks serious.
What the hell?
I feel uncomfortable for the first time ever with him. He'd better not be messing with me.
It's one thing to tell my mom we're engaged so I won't get in trouble. And to extend that lie a bit further for the purposes of saving himself as well. But he'd better not act like what we're doing is for real, unless he really means it.
Oh, shit.
My heart speeds up.
What if he really means it?
I decide to play it cool. I don't want him to know about all the mental gymnastics happening in my head right now because of him.
"I thought you'd appreciate the date I chose," I tell him, with a grin. "Since it's thirty days after your deal's closing date, you'll be home free, right? We can just say, oops, at the last minute, Elizabeth Jane got cold feet. She's the runaway bride, folks. No harm, no foul."
Derek is staring straight into my eyes, as if he can't believe what I'm saying. I suppose he doesn't even appreciate jokes about being jilted by his fiancé, even though I'm just fake, or stood up for his wedding, even though it's just pretend. So, I decide to switch things up a bit.
"Or, hell, by that time they can't do anything to hurt you so just tell them you've returned to your old ways. You're a player again so you can't possibly tie yourself down to any woman, even the fantastic Elizabeth Jane."
"Liz," he says, pulling me in close to him. "Stop it."
I laugh.
"Come on," I tell him. "It's funny. And I saved your ass."
"You did, and I appreciate it."
He clears his throat. He actually looks nervous.
I decide to stop joking. It appears that to him, this is a very serious matter.
"I called you in here to ask you a question," he says.
"Okay, shoot."
He reaches into his lab coat's pocket and I immediately think: condom. He's going to ask me if he can thank me by fucking me. Or if it's okay to have sex with me now that he's my boss. Or how I think it'll feel to be fucked by someone even richer than he is right now— because, thanks to me, his net worth is about to go up even more, along with something else that happens to be attached to his body.
Instead, he gets down on one knee. He holds up a little blue box.
"What the…?" I start to say.
"Shhhhh."
He puts his finger over my lips.
"It's my turn to talk,” he tells me. “And, like I said, I have a question for you."
"Yes?"
"My question is whether you really want to marry me on June 29th."
"Really?"
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. This seems too good to be true. Just like when I walked into his office for him to confirm my virginity and instead he took it. Except all of this is too good to be true in a very different way.
"I figure since we have a date, and even a place, I should make it official,” he murmurs.
"But… I just now said all of that. Pulled it out of my ass."
"Your sexy ass," he corrects me, and squeezes it. "My sexy ass."
"Okay. I pulled it out of my sexy ass. So where did you get the ring? And the idea to propose marriage to me for a made-up date two months from now?"
"I already had the ring," he says. "I bought it yesterday. I knew that eventually I would want to give it to you,to propose. I just didn't know it would be so soon."
"Oh yeah?" I ask, cocking my head at him. "What made you decide to speed it up?"
He groans. I'm torturing him, purposefully not saying yes or no. I have questions of my own first.
"I had it in my desk drawer, and after I saw what you did for me in the conference room— and how spectacularly you did it— I came into my office to get this ring and give it to you. Because it made me wonder, what am I waiting for? There's no one better than you. I'm so glad to have you as my fake fiancé. And I want you as my real fiancé. Now that we have the date and the place, all I need is a real yes from you."
"But there's a problem," I say. "All of that was just as fake as our engagement. There's no way we could book the Houghton Hotel on June 29th. It's the most popular hotel in town and one of the most coveted wedding dates."
"Wow, Liz, you really are a wedding planner in your fantasies," Derek says. "You're really getting bogged down in these details.”
I smile, not wanting to let on just how much fun it was for me to make up all those elaborate details.
“I think you know I have pull in this town, and I can probably make a wedding there and on that date happen,” he continues. “It might be a bit unconventional… maybe, a brunch wedding, for example… but it could probably happen. And even if it can't, we can tell them we postponed it because someone in our family is sick, or maybe because you're pregnant."
"Pregnant?" I ask, looking at him in a mixture of astonishment, humor and awe.
He's really putting the cart before the horse. I didn't even say yes to his proposal yet and he's already talking about knocking me up.
"Well, there needs to be a little Derek Junior," he says. "Or a little mini- Liz."
I laugh.
"I love you, Liz," he says. "I know I've never even said it until I'm asking you to marry me for real, but I know you've felt it since nearly the beginning."
"I have," I tell him, gazing into his eyes. " I love you too, Derek. I always have."
"Okay then," he says. "Good. My point is that there are lots of ways to change this if it doesn’t work out, but the date and place aren't the important parts of my question. The most important thing I'm asking you is this. Elizabeth Jane Suttell, will you marry me?"
"Yes," I tell him, laying my head against his muscular chest. My muscular chest. Until death do us part. "Yes, yes, yes."
He stretches out my hand and places the large, sparkling diamond ring on my finger.
"It fits me perfectly," I tell him.
Then I can't help adding, "Just like you."