The chef has prepared lobster and truffle potatoes for dinner.

“There are really truffles in these?” Amber asks, poking at the mashed potatoes with a fork. “What do they taste like? Aren’t they like a hundred dollars a pound or something?”

I elbow Amber and whisper into her ear, “We’ve been dating eight months, remember? You’d have had truffles by now.”

“These are the truffles we had last time,” I say louder. “Not those more expensive ones I told you about.”

“Oh,” she says. “Right.”

She takes a bite, and her eyes light up. “Just as good...as last time.”

“I remember the first time I had truffles,” Davis says. “I literally became rich overnight, and I asked the chef to bring me a whole truffle.”

“You didn’t!” Claire says, grabbing his arm.

“Overnight?” Amber asks. “How?”

“Silicon Valley,” Davis says. “Mid-eighties.”

Amber still looks confused. I don’t think she understands what a goldmine that area was in the mid-eighties, if you knew where to put your money at least.

“I took the truffle,” Davis says. “And I took a big bite out of it. I figure that bite must have cost two or three hundred dollars.”

“How did it taste?” Amber asks.

“Why don’t we see?” Liam says.

Claire laughs. “Come on, you can’t be serious--”

“I’m very serious,” I say, and I ring the bell to summon Andreas.

Andreas, one of the chefs, appears a few moments later. “Yes, sir?”

“Can you bring us a basketful of truffles, Andreas?”

He narrows his eyes. “I put generous portions in the potatoes, sir. I--”

“The potatoes are great,” I say. “Just bring us the basket, though.”

He nods and disappears back into the kitchen.

“We don’t have to,” Amber says. “It seems like a waste--”

I shrug. “I’m curious myself. I want to try it.”

I’ve done a lot of wasteful and decadent things in my time, but I can’t say I’ve ever bitten into a full-sized truffle.

Davis laughs. “They used to train dogs to hunt for truffles, but more often than not, the dogs would devour the whole thing as soon as they found it.”

“Really?” Amber asks. “Since when do dogs like mushrooms?”

“Dogs will eat their own shit,” Davis says, laughing.

Claire elbows him.

“Ah,” Davis says, throwing up his hands. “Sorry! I’m new money I’ve still got a mouth on me!” He leans forward, looking at Amber. “Since the dogs eat the truffles, that’s why they use pigs nowadays.”

“Wouldn’t pigs be even worse about eating them?” Amber asks.

“Apparently not,” Davis says.

“They say the pig has a more sensitive nose, too,” I say. “Can sniff them out from deeper down.”

Andreas brings out a basket of truffles and sets it down on the table.

“Let’s dig in,” I say.

I see shock on Andreas’s face.

“Andreas,” I say. “Take a few home for yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes widening in amazement.

“Positive,” I say.

He nods and picks out a few.

“That was nice of you,” Amber says, smiling.

“I think he was going to bust a gasket seeing us waste the truffles like this,” I say, watching Andreas disappear into the kitchen. “We might as well give him a few to use properly at home.”

“Should we put butter on these or something?” my mom asks skeptically.

I shake my head. “We are trying to get the full natural truffle flavor.”

We all take a bite at the same time. It tastes just like a mushroom at first, but then all kinds of other flavors explode in my mouth. I’m most interested in watching Amber’s reaction.

Her eyes widen in shock as she chews. I’m tasting notes of chocolate and rich butter--even though there is no butter on them.

Then it completely overpowers me. A funky taste explodes in my mouth, like dirt and earth and way too much of some type of spice. The taste fills my nose up with an almost burning sensation, and a palpable musk fills my nose even as it burns.

I see Amber nearly choke, and my mom is coughing into her napkin.

We look up at Davis, who is just laughing. He’s laughing so loudly that his face is turning beet red. He starts gasping for air.

I swallow down the truffle, praying that the overpowering musk will die down sooner rather than later.

“Were they…” Amber says, gasping, “Bad? Spoiled?”

Davis slaps his knee and tries to get words out between his laughter. “I never thought you’d actually do it!” he says. “I thought I was the only one in the world dumb enough to eat a whole truffle! They shave small pieces off of it for a reason!”

I grin at Davis, but my mom shoves him and pouts. “You are unbelievable.”

“You don’t look surprised, Mom,” I say, resting a hand on Amber’s leg. I feel bad that she got tricked, even if I did, too.

Mom rolls her eyes. “Davis thinks pranks are funny. I do not.”

“It wasn’t a prank!” Davis says. “Not exactly! I just wanted you guys to experience what I did!”

I smile at Amber, but I see her cheeks are burning red, and she’s staring at my hand on her thigh.

I pull my hand away reflexively, but she looks up at me with glassy eyes. Shit, did she want me to keep my hand there? Too late now.

“Does Liam ever prank you, Amber?” Davis asks.

“Uh,” Amber says, her voice cracking.

Does proposing to her in a pantry with no warning count as a prank?

“Not really,” Amber says, offering no further details that could catch her in a lie. Then she looks down at her dress. “Unless the Beauty and the Beast dress was some kind of elaborate trick.”

I laugh. “No way, you chose that one yourself! Out of dozens of dresses!”

“You do look beautiful,” Davis says. “Liam is a lucky man!”

Amber blushes again, and smiles. “Thank you…”

After we finish the main course, Andreas brings in dessert. After the overpowering truffle experience, the decadent chocolate dish feels like a bit much for me, but Amber devours it.

After dessert, we are served coffee and brandy in the lounge, and Davis excuses himself to use the restroom.

“So,” my mom says, as soon as Davis is gone. “Why did you do it?”

I cock my head. “Do what?”

“Fake this engagement,” she says.

Amber’s eyes bulge, and she looks at me, hoping I’ll know what to say.

I lock eyes with my mom, trying to feel her out. I might be able to deny it, but if she knows, she knows. It might be safer to just reason with her.

“Why do you think that?” I ask.

“Oh, come on,” she says. “First of all, I found out about your contract with Cynthia Frost years ago. You are a dumbass by the way, for signing that.”

I glare at her.

“And besides,” she says. “You have never been able to keep a secret, Liam. Let alone for eight months. So how did you rope this poor girl into doing this?”

Amber is staring at the floor, but I stand up beside her, put an arm around her, and pull her against me.

“I paid her off,” I say.

My mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. “This is going to blow up in your face.”

“Not if we keep it airtight,” I say.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says. “Not even Davis.”

“Mrs. Lions,” Amber says, finally looking up. “I don’t want you to have to lie to your boyfriend for us…”

“Us?” my mom asks. “So there is an ‘us?’ You are invested in this beyond whatever my son paid you?”

Amber bites her lip, then says, “Well, he’s been very nice to me. I want him to win.”

My mom laughs. “Well, that’s sweet. But no, I won’t tell Davis. When this is all over--however it ends--I will call it a prank. He’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Do you have any advice, Mom?” I ask.

“You’re asking me for advice?” she says, putting a hand on her chest. “That’s a first!”

“You saw through it,” I say. “We obviously have to get better at selling it.”

“Don’t sell it then,” she says. “I see the way you two look at each other. Make it real. More of that,” she says, pointing to my arm around Amber. “Make it real.”

I laugh dismissively, but I have to admit I like the idea. Why not just give it a real shot? Even if it doesn’t end up working out between us, at least it will appear more believable than with both of us trying to pretend.

“That’s up to Amber,” I say, “because--”

“No,” she says. “I think Claire is right. Neither of us are good enough actors. So if we can’t act, we can…”

My mom laughs, smiling ear to ear. “This is great. It’s stupid as hell, and I can’t believe my dumbass son got you into this, but just maybe you two have a chance!”

I wouldn’t mind having some fun with Amber, but I didn’t dodge marrying Cynthia just to marry someone else. Staying free and unchained was the goal all along.

But why does that idea of freedom not appeal to me like it once did? I look down at Amber in the bright yellow dress, and I feel her warm skin beneath my hand. She’s just another woman, selected nearly at random, so how could she so drastically change what I want out of life?