“Tomorrow seems a little rushed. It won’t give Emma much time to make a dress.”

“Okay, not tomorrow.” He deepens our kiss; his hands slide into my hair and I feel that delicious tug in my core building.

“I love you,” I manage to tell him between kisses. “Should we go home now? I don’t think I can handle having sex in your mom’s pantry.”

Barrett groans, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t really think this through.”

“It’s okay, we can be in bed in fifteen minutes.”

He chuckles, takes my hand and leads me out of the pantry. This time when we enter the living room, it is filled with people. I’m beginning to understand his frustration.

“She said yes!” he announces, lifting my hand with the huge diamond ring on it while smiling down at me. Everyone cheers.

JoAnna approaches and wraps her arms around me.

“Congratulations,” she says, giving me a warm hug.

Then there’s Jules nearly toppling into me with excitement.

“That diamond is ginormous!” she says.

Emma, Carl, Lindsay. Colleagues from work. Bea and her husband, she introduces as Stan. My parents. Wait. My parents.

“I can’t believe you flew to New York for this,” I say, laughing through happy tears.

“Barrett is very convincing.” My dad chuckles. “Especially when he picks you up in a private plane. Makes it hard to say no.”

My mom rolls her eyes at him. “We wouldn’t have missed it, even if we had to fly ourselves,” my mom says with tears in her eyes. “We love you so much.”

We greet the rest of the guests and sip on champagne.

Once everyone is mingling, Barrett and I find a quiet corner and he pulls me into his arms. My fingers stroke his midnight blue tie.

“I was wrong,” he says. “I can’t wait two years to marry you.”

“I can’t wait two years either.” I press my lips to his jaw. “One year.”

“Four months.”

I laugh. “Six.”

“Done.”

There in JoAnna’s penthouse apartment, where our fake dating scheme began, we celebrate our very real engagement with family and friends.

THE END

Sneak Peek

CHAPTER 1

EMMA

The needle pricks my finger and a red dot of blood immediately appears. Shit. There’s no pain, just panic as I stick the punctured digit into my mouth to stop the bleeding. The last thing I need is blood spots on this dress. It’s white, it’s the signature look of my collection and it’s hitting the runway in five minutes.

“Four minutes, everyone!”

Make that, four minutes.

“Models, take your places, please.” Jen, the show coordinator, is waving her arms toward the stage. She’s like the grounds crew at the airport, except instead of waving orange batons, she’s flagging the women into position with a clipboard and a walkie talkie.