Page 51 of Came the Closest

He has a dish towel draped over his shoulder, and his t-shirt is damp right at the level of the sink. But I play along. “Yeah,” I say, “I guess it would.”

“But, if I had, I’d probably have to report how the fairy did.”

I wrap my arms around myself. “You would?”

“I would,” he confirms. “Performance reports are crucial at the HFHQ.”

“HFHQ?”

“Housekeeping Fairy Headquarters.”

“Ah. In that case, they get a shining five-star review from me,” I say conspiratorially. “Except that they didn’t start the dishwasher.”

“I know,” he says, shrugging. “They didn’t want to use the water if you were going to take a shower.”

Awareness thrums lightly at my pulse points. I open my mouth to say something, but a yawn shudders through me.

Colton’s amusement fades. He shifts slightly and pats the cushion beside him. Maybe it’s the easy rain outside, maybe it’s the exhaustion pulling at me, or maybe it’s just the magnetic pull of my best friend. It could also be the dish towel slung over his shoulder or the blue smear of washable marker across his sun kissed cheek.

Whatever it is, I don’t fight it. I sink onto the cushioned seat, and my body sighs with relief when Colton tucks me into his warmth. He draws tiny circles on my shoulder with his index finger, smooths them under the pad of his calloused thumb, and tilts his head until it rests lightly against mine.

“You didn’t have to do the dishes,” I tell him. “Or the laundry.”

He smiles against my temple. “Probably shouldn’t tell the housekeeper fairy that part, Fini. They might retract their services.”

Fini.

Once again, the childhood nickname catches my breath in my throat. Colton and I used to lay side by side—on the dock, or on a picnic blanket, or in the bed of my dad’s truck. We’d hold our summer bronzed forearms up, side by side.

Infinity—that’s what we are, he’d say. The freckles he traced from my arm to his made the universal infinity sign. I’ll call you Fini for short.

Colton shifts beside me now. His whiskers snag on my hair, and he pulls something from under a throw pillow. My lips tilt when he sets Milo’s tie, and a second identical one, in the palm of my hand.

“It’ll be way too big for him, but I thought we could wear them to the wedding together,” he says. A hint of boyishness traces his words. “I already cleared it with Ember.”

I tip my head back to look at him. “What about Graham?”

“Cheyenne,” he says, grinning, “my baby brother will be lucky to make it to his ceremony with his tie, considering how stupidly in love he is. The last thing on his mind right now is what tie I’ll be wearing. Trust me.”

The thought of quiet, bookish little boy and teenage Graham being so wholly in love makes me smile. If anyone is going to take his vows seriously, it will be Graham. I start to get up, but Colton’s arm tightens around me, keeping me firmly tucked into him.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs. His mouth is too close to my ear. Goosebumps lift on my exposed skin. This time, when he shifts, he pulls something from the pocket of his shorts. “Something for you, too, but I’d prefer if you don’t wait until the wedding to wear it.”

I freeze when I see the small box in his hand, and I look from the baby blue velvet to him. “Colton—”

“You’re not allowed to Colton me about this.” He retracts his arm, and I wish I didn’t miss his warmth, but I do. I also wish I couldn’t hear the bashful earnestness behind his firm tone, because it sounds a lot like vulnerability. Something Colton has never been good at. “This engagement might be temporary—”

“Fake,” I correct.

“—but any woman of mine will wear my ring, fake or otherwise,” he finishes, ignoring my correction.

The box cracks open to reveal a ring that steals my breath. One that’s so very different from the one I wore for three years. I’m not the girl with the fairytale wedding planned on Pinterest, because I had that wedding, and it became a nightmare. Looking at this ring, I want to cry. Of course Colton would know me so intimately that he knows my style, with or without Pinterest.

A circular diamond is flanked by two of the tiniest infinity signs I’ve ever seen, and it sits in a smooth white gold setting.

“Colton,” I say again, more deliberately. I shake my head and blink hard. “No. If this is real, which it better not be, you shouldn’t—”

“Doesn’t matter what I should or shouldn’t do, because I did.” He lowers slowly to one knee and reaches for my left hand. My fingers tremble, but he steadies them with the gentlest pressure to my knuckles. “Cheyenne, I know this is unconventional. I also know it’s hard because of our past. But like I just said, I want you to wear my ring. So, Cheyenne Kolter, will you agree to be my real fake fiancée?”