Audrey gave him a sharp look. She’d assumed him indifferent to Elizabeth. After all, it had been years since they’d dated, and he’d hardly seemed the least bit fazed when they’d broken up. But Elizabeth didn’t go by Liz, which meant it was a nickname—something she’d noticed Clarke was always careful to avoid with girlfriends. And there’d been something in his tone when he’d said it, something on his face right now…

Elizabeth held his gaze just a minute before slipping back into her congratulatory routine. “Linda had invited me over to join the family before we realized, well…” She reached for Audrey’s left hand. “It’s so nice to see you again. And I’ve been dying to see the ring!”

She gasped when she saw it. “Oh, Audrey. It’s just gorgeous.”

It was gorgeous. The Tiffany solitaire in a platinum setting was Audrey’s dream ring, and hey, if you were going to have an engagement for show, why not make it perfect?

Clarke slid a hand around Audrey’s waist, his palm resting against her hip, and she had to resist the urge to jump in surprise at the contact. They’d been playing fiancés all week. First with the Tiffany and Co. ring shopping, which he’d insisted she document in her Instagram Stories, in real time. Then fake-flirty dinner and a staged picture of her coffee table piled high with bridal magazines. Harmless, easily reversible stuff.

But this—the touching—this was new. Sure, she and Clarke had touched plenty in the past. Dances. Punches. Pinches. Pecks on the cheek. High fives. Hugs. But his hand on her hip was decidedly different. And posing as an engaged couple at his parents’ house was a whole other level of pretend, one Audrey wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She could stomach pretending for the sake of their public, but straight-up lying to friends and family didn’t feel right.

Not that Audrey had lied to her friends and family. She’d called her parents in California immediately to let them know what was going on, and as expected, her fun-loving mother was delighted by the charade, and Audrey’s father was affectionately tolerant. Naomi and Claire had also agreed to play along because it would mean getting Scandal Boy to back off.

But Clarke’s relationship with his parents was a different beast—chilly on a good day, downright antagonistic on a bad one. His mother was cold and controlling, his father dispassionate about everything except the family business.

And Elizabeth was as beautiful as ever, Audrey realized. Not in a delicate, dainty way. Elizabeth was nearly as tall as Clarke in her heels, and she had the sort of striking bone structure that was almost masculine in its sharp edges. But it was softened by a full mouth and light brown hair she wore in soft waves around her shoulders.