“Then I guess my answer would depend on what kind of underwear.” Fitz grins against the glass he picks up, and I don’t know why but it might be the greatest, unintentionally sexy thing I’ve ever seen. He lowers it after taking a sip. “There’s only one thing you could wear that would top that. And you’re already wearing it.”

My eyes drop to the ring. The sapphire glows in the light that shines off its diamond counterpart.

“I was wearing your jersey the night I found you in the club,” I remind him, looking back up. “Probably a few other of the girls too.”

“Funny enough, you were the only one I noticed it on.”

I know this shouldn’t make me smile, but it does, even though I fight against it. Because I’m not sure what Fitz is trying to prove in this moment. I don’t need the flattery, especially not in a pocket of privacy. We might have eyes on us, but we’re not being eavesdropped on.

But I decide it’s nice to be flattered. It’s nice to be shown off and not hidden away, even under the false pretense of a relationship that doesn’t exist. I can enjoy this night of pretend, I decide. I can live in it as if it’s real.

“By the way,” he murmurs. “I didn’t bid on the whale watching.”

“I already forgot about that,” I say. “What a bummer.”

“I tend to get seasick.”

“Since when?” I recall a dozen times being on a boat out past the bay with Fitz. Sure, the sea out there was pretty mild in terms of waves. But seasickness is seasickness. “You never said no when I asked you to come out on the boat with me.”

He sighs. “I never really said no to you, did I?”

A shiver creeps up my spine.

“If you needed something, I’d never say no. Not for anything.”

“Do you still love to ride?”

I jump out of the past and right back into the present, where I find Fitz smiling coyly.

“Excuse me?”

He breaks into soft laughter that I swear is far too delicate to escape from his broad chest.

Fitz tips his head toward the back of the room where the silent auction table is. “Riding lessons for you. I’ll get the certificate when we leave.”

I’m touched, but my confusion makes it to the surface first. “It’s an auction. You could be outbid.” I remind him.

Fitz says nothing, just reaches for his short glass and tips the remaining liquor into his mouth. “Added an extra zero for good measure. Consider it an engagement gift.”

My eyes widen. “I get that I’ve never properly celebrated anyone’s engagement before, but don’t other people give the bride and groom gifts?”