Page 63 of Imperfect Arrangement

“Good.” Raymond exhales deeply, like this exchange has been as unnerving for him as it was for me.

I glance down at the ring again, the gemstone catching the soft light. “I still can’t believe you bought me a ring,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

“I told you, Willow.” His smile is slow and easy, a weapon he wields without realizing its power on me. “I’m not as bad as you think.”

With that, he turns toward the house, leaving me in this quiet, dimly lit pergola, which has somehow become the stage for our changing relationship and shifting emotions.

Does he feel it too?

As if he can hear my silent question, Raymond glances over his shoulder, his green eyes catching mine. “Good night, Firefly.”

My heart starts thudding louder than it has any right to. And for once, I let the moment linger, let myself feel the chaos this man is causing. The quiet thrum of uncertainty, the growing confusion, the way my pulse speeds up whenever he’s near.

My friends’ words about that thin line between love and hate echo in my head, and a tiny, traitorous part of me admits—just for a second—that the line feels dangerously blurred.

Crap! I’m doomed.

MY FIANCÉ & I MADE THE NEWS

WILLOW

Igrab a pillow and smother my head with it, trying to block out the knocking on my door.

“Mom, five more minutes,” I groan, my voice muffled by the fabric. Sleep and I were not on speaking terms last night, and I only managed to crash sometime around dawn.

“Willow.”

It takes me a second to realize the voice isn’t my mom’s. It’s deep, smooth, and entirely too close. My foggy brain connects the dots in a flash—the man responsible for my insomnia is standing right above me, his knock landing a little too close for comfort on the nightstand.

“If it wasn’t urgent, Firefly, I swear, I wouldn’t have dared to wake you,” he says softly, and his words hit every nerve I didn’t know I had.

For a moment, I debate pretending to stay asleep. What would Raymond say if he thought I wasn’t listening? But that stupidly curious part of my brain gets slapped and shut down by the sensible part.

Raymond Teager has owned my subconscious since I moved in, and last night, my dreams were a rom-com montage from hell. Him whispering that this was forever, sliding that ridiculously perfect ring—which is currently sitting safely in my nightstand—onto my finger while fireworks burst in the sky.

Damn Nori. And double damn to my overactive imagination.

Like the sensible adult I should be, I sit up, groggy but upright. “Is everything okay? Quill?” My eyes dart around, half expecting to find her, but it’s just us.

“Quill’s fine. It’s still early.”

And yet, the man is already dressed for the day, looking like he walked out ofGQ. Meanwhile, I must look like an electrocuted Garfield impersonation, my red hair a tangled disaster worthy of its own weather warning. I grab a scrunchie and pull it into some semblance of order, then glance down at myself.

My faded maroon T-shirt is so old the label is practically a memory, and the rest of me hidden under a thin blanket isn’t doing much for my dignity. Not that I care about impressing him. I absolutely don’t.But it’d be nice to not look like a hobo while he struts around his house like he’s hosting aVoguephotoshoot.

“Here.” Raymond holds out a cup of coffee I hadn’t even noticed before. “Oat milk and coconut sugar, just how you like it.”

Wait. Raymond knows how I take my coffee?

My pulse skyrockets like it’s trying to set a new record. This can’t be real. This has to be one of those hyper realistic dreams where I wake up in a panic. I squeeze my eyes shut, count to three, and open them again. But he’s still standing there, holding out the cup like it’s no big deal. And suddenly, it hits me.

Is he doing this because he’s my fiancé now? Holy crap.

Snap out of it, Willow.

He’s your fake fiancé. FAKE.

Except…Nori’s words from last night hit me like a gong in a quiet church. This is forever.