Chapter 18

‘You alright?’ His voice snapped me out of my mental spiral. ‘What?’ I blinked at him, brain still buffering. Ashton gave me a quick side glance. ‘Earlier. At the hospital. Did he… hurt you?’ ‘You mean Rhys?’ I said. ‘No.’ Technically true. Not for lack of trying, though. Rhys practically lived at the gym, probably had protein shakes for blood. If he’d landed a hit, I’d be scraping bits of myself off the floor with a dustpan. I added, softer this time, ‘Thank you.’ He didn’t say ‘you’re welcome.’ Instead, his grip on the steering wheel went full Incredible Hulk—veins popping like they were auditioning for a fitness ad. I stared. Was he angry? At me? At Rhys? ‘That was your ex-fiancé?’ he finally asked, voice low. ‘Yeah.’ He looked like he had about seven things he wanted to say and none of them were polite enough for public consumption. In the end, he just nodded and stared straight ahead. The rest of the drive was silent. Not awkward-silent, just... broody. We got to the apartment and rode the lift up in silence. At my door, I turned to him and said, ‘Thanks. Good night.’ He didn’t reply. Just stood there, face unreadable in the dim hallway light. I dug out my keys and was halfway through the door when— ‘Wait.’ I turned, giving him the eyebrow. He held up his phone. ‘Here’s my number,’ he said, airdropping it to me. ‘Once Louisa Granger’s out of surgery, I’ll let you know.’ ‘Thanks,’ I said, and meant it. He didn’t owe me—or Louisa—anything. But he’d gone out of his way anyway. His gaze drifted over my shoulder into the living room and his brows went up. ‘You seriously planning to spend the night in that?’ I glanced behind me. Boxes were stacked like a game of adult Jenga, most of my stuff taped up and ready to go, the bed stripped bare, the wardrobe gutted. Right, I kind of forgot I was moving out tomorrow and had packed all my stuff. ‘It’s just one night. I’ll make do,’ I said with the confidence of someone who fully intended to sleep on a rolled-up hoodie. ‘Why don’t you come over to mine?’ I turned back to him slowly, trying to work out if I’d just hallucinated that sentence. His tone was neutral. His face completely expressionless. Like he’d just offered to lend me a socket wrench instead of, y’know, his bed. Was this an innocent offer? Or was he dropping hints about a sequel to Hotel Night: The Pantsless Saga? My brain was so fried it couldn’t spell ‘context’, let alone process it. ‘Um… thanks, but I don’t think—’ ‘That guy Rhys knows where you live, doesn’t he?’ Ashton steamrolled right over my polite rejection. ‘If he’s blaming you for his mum’s crash, how long do you think it’ll take before he turns up here to settle the score?’ I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a very unhelpful, ‘Um…’ The man had a point. Rhys had an ego the size of a small country, and nothing bruised it worse than losing, especially to a woman. And not just any woman. Me. The one who used to trail after him like a lovesick Labrador. ‘And your family’s still tight with the Grangers, right? If they hear about Louisa’s accident, there’s a good chance they’ll either call or show up in person. Do you really want that circus on your doorstep tonight?’ I let out a sigh. ‘Fair point. Thanks. If it’s not a huge inconvenience, I might crash in your living room for the night. I’ll take the couch, promise.’ I knew his place had the same layout as mine, and there was no guest room. He might’ve smiled, though it was hard to tell in the light. ‘Good. We’ve got a few things we need to talk about anyway.’ I followed him into his flat. ‘Drink?’ he asked, heading over to the sleek little minibar wedged between the living room and the kitchen. ‘Sure.’ I took the glass he handed me—some fancy Japanese whisky with an unpronounceable name—and took a sip. It went down smooth, like silk soaked in fire, and I felt the tension in my shoulders start to give up and move out. I stifled a yawn. It wasn’t even ten yet, but the day had been a long one. ‘About the party the day after tomorrow,’ he said, voice casual, but I could tell from the way he leaned on the bar that this wasn’t just small talk. ‘Yeah?’ I blinked away the sleep threatening to hijack my brain and looked at him. He was watching me again with that same unreadable expression—not creepy, not flirty, just… observant. Like a cat that couldn’t decide if you were a threat or a chew toy. ‘Considering what went down today, I think it’s time to revise the terms of our arrangement.’ Arrangement. Right. The fake engagement. I waited for the rest. ‘I’m guessing from his charming performance tonight that Rhys Granger isn’t quite ready to let you go.’ ‘Yeah, you could say that.’ I gave a wry little laugh. Normally, I wasn’t one to unpack personal baggage with strangers. But Ashton didn’t feel like a person you had to tiptoe around. Maybe it was because we made a deal. Maybe it was the way he talked about everything in a matter-of-fact way like he was discussing stock prices instead of my messy love life. So I told him about Rhys’s absurd request to keep pretending we were still engaged just so he could ease his new relationship with Catherine into his parents’ approval. ‘You turned him down,’ Ashton said, not as a question, but as a statement. ‘Yeah. Took me years to wrap my head around the fact that he’s completely besotted with Catherine. I spent far too long playing the role of emotionally available placeholder. I’m not signing up for that encore performance.’ ‘Rhys Granger doesn’t strike me as someone who takes no for an answer.’ I gave a shrug. That one he nailed. ‘And then there’s your family,’ he added. ‘From what I’ve gathered, your mum won’t give up until she’s set you up with someone she approves of, regardless of how you feel.’ ‘Exactly. Which is why I needed you to come to a family dinner next week. As my fiancé.’ ‘But do you think that’ll be enough?’ I tilted my head. ‘What’re you getting at?’ ‘Engagements can be broken off,’ he said, setting his glass down. Then he walked over and stopped right in front of me. Since I was still sitting on the sofa, he basically eclipsed the ceiling light like a very expensive solar event. I had to crane my neck to look up at him. ‘Pretending to be engaged isn’t going to magically make your parents or Rhys disappear.’ ‘So what, you want me to fake a pregnancy too?’ I asked, only half joking. ‘No,’ he said, dead serious. ‘I’m suggesting we take it a step further.’ ‘You mean actually get engaged?’ ‘No. I mean get married.’