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The phones hadn’t stopped ringing since Monday, and it was Wednesday afternoon. Robert stepped into his office to find three more sympathy cards and flowers, all of which were lined up on the side table in the room. He didn’t bother to read the notes, he never did. They were all the same, anyhow. I’m so sorry for your loss. You’re in our thoughts. He was an inspiring man. A good businessman, yes, but a terrible father. Yet, all Robert could do, all he’s ever done, is love his father with his whole heart, even after he’s gone.
He can see his secretary running around like there was fire on her heels, back and forth from the door to her desk. She was a nice woman, around the same age as uncle Peter, with soft eyes and a voice that could scream bloody murder if you got on her wrong side. She was pushy like a mother and as caring as an aunt, which is why he let her pick at him until he crumbled like a sandcastle. In this office, it was just her and uncle Peter that he trusts.
She barrels into the room when his head is deep in another business proposal, leftover from prior arrangements his father had made, all written anxiously to hear a reply. Looking up, he notices the teacup in her hand, clattering against the saucer, which she brings to his desk and places down as carefully as she can so as not to spill anything. He thanks her quietly, but doesn’t reach for the cup, going back to reading the paper laid out in front of him.
“There were some messages left here for you this morning,” she starts, a voice rushed as she places down the message cards on the desk. “Andrew called again, but I told him to bugger off for the week.”
The words have Robert letting out a huff through his nose, glancing up at the woman as she reads down the dot-points of her mental to-do list.
“The board will need an answer by next Tuesday regarding the solar plans, and don’t forget to fill out the form I left on your desk last week about transferring the funds.” she raises a finger when Robert opens his mouth to speak. “Don’t tell me you have, because you haven’t. I’m not stupid enough to send them off without looking at them first.”
“Well, that’s an invasion of company privacy,” Robert says, lips pursed as he sits back in his chair.
“Don’t start with me.”
He chuckles, genuinely this time, happy to feel like a person instead of the heir to a business shoved onto his shoulders. It’s been piles of paperwork since his father passed. Those cards and flowers beside the door mean nothing. No one really cares about him, they care about whether he can keep the business running on his own.
“Is that all?” he asks, bringing down his own mood.
The woman nods, turning around quickly and then turning back to face him just as fast. “Oh, no. I still need a name for the gala.”
Robert shakes his head, suddenly gaining more interest in the paper in front of him. “I’ve told you, I don’t want to go.”
“I know you don’t, and why would you? It’ll be filled with directors and CEOs with sticks up their asses, but—” she presses two hands down on the desk, meeting Robert at eye-level. “That’s exactly why you need to attend. You know how important those stupid parties are. Now more than ever.”
He shakes his head, wanting to rip his hair out from all the fuss. He’s always hated the company functions, ever since he was a boy, and now he doesn’t have a manager to hide behind. Now he’s the manager. “I don’t have anyone to come with me.”
“Rubbish. Of course, you do.”
“Really? And who did you have in mind?”
“That pretty girl,” she snaps her fingers trying to remember the name. “The one you see so often.”
It’s almost impossible to hold back the faint smile on his lips at the mention of you, but he manages to hide it from his secretary, saying your name to have her pointing a finger at him happily. “I don’t think company functions are to her liking.”
“Well, that’s something the two of you have in common.” she lets out a sigh when Robert doesn’t say another word. “Won’t it be nice to have a friendly face with you? I hear so many good things about her.”
Robert only just picks up on the smirk playing on her face, too late to stop her when she smiles regardless of the finger he holds up. “Now, hold on—”
“What is it, then? Hmm? Secretly dating since you were teenagers? Maybe friends for cut?”
“No! No, nothing like that.”
“Then what’s the problem? You like her, she tolerates you. It’s just one night of smiling at terrible jokes and drinking champagne.”
“It’s just,” he sighs, leaning back against the chair again after almost jumping out of it from her implications. “I don’t like involving her with my work. I prefer to keep my private life separate.”
His secretary chews the inside of her cheek, eyes squinted at him. “Okay. I respect that. But Robert,” she never liked addressing him by surname. “Someone needs to go with you.”
“I have too much on my mind right now,” he shakes his head, looking back down at the paper and trying to read the words. “I’ll think about it later.”
“Like I haven’t heard that before.” she stands straight, adjusting the sleeves of her shirt. She watches him flick through documents, then search for a pen to scribble his signature. All excuses, all distractions. “I think it’s good you have someone in your life, someone who treats you kindly. Goodness knows you deserve that much.”
“Thank you,” he says, honestly, but still too caught up in his work to look her in the eye. “She does help me when I’m stressed. As if I don’t have enough stress in my life as is. With the proposal on my mind and what that’ll mean for the future, it’s a lot to process.”
It’s quiet. A little too quiet, and when Robert is about to ask if everything is alright, his head snaps up at her sudden thunderous shriek of delight. Her hands are waving in front of her, with a smile stretched so far across her face it’s a miracle her lips don’t fall off.
“I knew it! I knew it!” she cries happily, snatching a pen off of his desk and scribbling down something on her hand. “No need to tell me her surname. It’ll change soon, anyway. I’ll find her.”
“What do you mean?” Robert is about ready to call a medic with the way his secretary is buzzing on whatever serotonin he unintentionally just gave her, confused on why she’s so excited.
“Oh, Robert, you don’t know how happy this is making me.”
Yeah, that’s the problem.
“I can’t believe you kept it a secret from me.” she spins on her heel, heading toward the door. “If you didn’t buy her the biggest, ugliest diamond ring I know you can afford, I’m going to be fuming.”
Then she shuts the door and the sound of it jump-starts Robert wide awake, springing out of his seat. “We’re not—!”
What even was the point now, with the door closed? Most likely his secretary is searching for you on the computer, trying to find a way to contact you and send you an invitation. Knowing her track record, she’s already got your address and social security number, and he won’t be able to stop her once she’s set on something. What a mess. He meant the business proposal.
Robert Fischer sinks back in his chair, groaning like a child, knowing he’s got a lot of explaining to do when news reaches you, which probably won’t be long. After all, he did just mistakenly tell his secretary that he proposed to you.
─────── ⋯ ───────
The corner of the paper creases under his fingers when he answers the phone, already dreading what’s about to greet him. If it was laughter or shouting that he imagined, well, that’s not what he gets.
“So, I got an invitation sent to my email,” comes your voice, steady and calm. No hint of confusion or hilarity. It puts Robert into panic mode, more than he already was in. “For a company gala, as your plus one.”
He waits and you keep him hanging on a thread. He’s going to combust, he is. This stretch of time is eating him through, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. The paper bends when he moves his fingers, and he’s picking at it like a hole-puncher.
“There was also a message from your secretary, congratulating me on my engagement… to you.”
“Alright,” Robert speaks, having waited too long that he fears he’s going to melt with how much he’s sweating. “I can explain that.”
“I sure hope so, because it’s the whole reason why I’m calling you.”
He winces, though you can’t see him. “I need to bring someone with me to the function. It’s an annual thing, and before I always had dad with me but—” he cuts his sentence short, throat suddenly dry. He can hear you shift on the line, knowing that you’re giving him those puppy dog eyes that comforts him so much. “Well, obviously I had to look for someone else. My secretary, she… gets overexcited easily. She misinterpreted what I told her, so now she thinks we’re—”
“Engaged. Right.” your voice is still steady, still calm. He’s thankful for that, at least. “You don’t have anyone else to go with you?”
“No, I wasn’t really asking around, and there’d be no one available this late. I kept putting it off.”
The gala was this Saturday night, and if everyone else in the business game were half as busy as Robert, there’s no way anyone would say yes. With sheer coincidence and awkward timing, you happen to be the perfect fit for his plus one. But he’s too scared about how it happened to even think about truly asking you to go with him.
He hears you sigh on the line, but it finishes with a chuckle that has his heart beating back to a normal rhythm. “Okay, smarty-pants. I’ll go with you.”
His heart stops again. “Are you sure? I mean, they’ll all think you’re my… well, my fiancée.”
“It’s only for one night, and no one has met me before. I’m assuming there’ll be free food?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then I’m in. There’s no way I’m missing this shindig. Goodness, Robert, you’ve never invited me once to a company function.”
He’s at a loss for words. Yes, the two of you are close, about as close as he’s ever been with anyone after his mother passed away and his dad decided to shut him out, but even this seems like too big of an ask. Why on earth would you ever subject yourself to the role of his partner? It’s not just the title, it’s so much more than that. It’s the pretending to be in love, the intimate touches that need to look natural, the acting that Robert isn’t even sure really is an act. He cares about you more than anyone else, even uncle Peter, but just the thought of calling you his for one night only could have him fainting on the spot.
“Robert,” your voice speaks over his thoughts, bringing him back to the phone call. “If it’s too much, I understand. I wouldn’t ever do anything to make you uncomfortable. I just thought I’d help.”
“No, um,” he clears his throat, adjusting his necktie that suddenly feels too tight. “It’s fine. I’m thinking about you, not me.”
He can already see your smile before hearing it in your voice. “Always putting others before yourself. That must be why I love you so much.” he’s heard you tell him that before, but now it feels like it means something completely different. “You just tell me the dress code and I’ll be waiting for your knock at the door.”
His mind is spinning at the thought of it all. Not just the pretending now, no, because it really wasn’t pretending. The fact that you’re so willing to help has a tiny shred of hope screaming inside his chest, but he knows it doesn’t mean anything. This is just a friend helping another friend. Nothing more. No matter how badly he wishes it could be more.
By the time he arrives at your place on Saturday night, his palms are sweaty. He was fiddling with his hands the entire drive here, requesting the partition to be put up so that his driver didn’t have to see him squirming nervously against the leather seats. He hears his heart pounding in time with his knocks on the door, and if you don’t answer within the next five seconds then he’s sure it’s going to explode right on the doormat. But you’re answering it in three, a big smile on your face as his eyes meet yours.
“It’s pretty cold, huh?” you’re half covered by the door, mainly just your head peeking through the gap. He can make out the strap of your dress and that’s it. “Let me get my coat.”
He waits on your doorstep, giving himself a mental pep talk to pull himself together and stop acting like he was picking up his date for prom. When you’re back at the door, now covered in a long coat, you step forward enough to place a kiss on his cheek and then slide your house key in the lock. It’s not surprising being greeted this way, you’ve done it more than once before, but even just that alone got his cheeks burning in the way they shouldn’t from someone who’s just a friend.
“Do you need me to carry anything?” he asks, expecting a purse at your side.
“Oh no, I came prepared.” you pat your sides. “It’s got pockets.”
He chuckles at that, instantly calming down a fraction. It was the one thing that always worked to calm his nerves, the fact that you were so normal around him. No handshakes, no surnames. You’ve always seen him as Robert, not Robert Fischer. There weren’t enough stars in the sky to count how lucky he is to have you in his life.
The worries that were practically tattooed on his skin started to dissolve on the drive to the function, with you sitting beside him and filling him in on the events in your life that he hasn’t heard about yet. You were so casual, so natural. Either you haven’t realized what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into, or you’ve done this before. Robert hopes it’s neither of those, especially the latter. There was a measure of singularity about you helping him like this that makes him feel special. Unlike nearly every moment of his life after the age of eleven, he’s never felt special, not really, unless he was with you.
By the time the limousine slows to a stop right outside the building, Robert’s nervousness was almost completely non-existent, having been shooed away by your voice. Yet, it instantly returns the moment he steps out of the backseat to see all the people outside, some of familiar face and others he doesn’t recognize, and the nerves hit him full force, ringing in his ears and muffling the sounds of everything around him. Here are all the people to catch on, to point a finger at him and call him out for his lie. Faces and voices that convey the very stupid decision racking on his mind. Then your hand on his shoulder makes the ringing fade away, and he’s managing the softest smile as you look at him.
“You okay?” your voice is so sweet, so gentle.
He breathes out, offering his arm to you. “I’m okay. Let’s hope the night goes by quick.”
Your hand straightens his tie, smoothing the shoulders of his black coat. “It’ll be fine. I promise I’ll stick by you the whole night.”
“Thank you.” he pats your hand on his arm, then when his legs feel less like jelly and more like limbs, he leads you up the outside steps toward the main entrance, large and inviting, but taunting him to turn back, you idiot!
Whatever conscience he had is long gone when you both make it inside, being directed over to the side to have your outer coats taken. He’s too busy fiddling with the cufflinks on his sleeve to notice you waiting for him, but when he does he swears he gets knocked back right down the steps at the sight of you, standing there with your coat now off of your shoulders.
“You look beautiful,” he can’t help himself from saying, the words leaking out of his lips quicker than he can think to stop himself.
He’s seen you in dresses before, many times, but this one was unlike the others. So elegant, so perfectly fit for you. You’re standing there in front of him, glowing with regality, and he doesn’t think you even realize how stunning you look, not when all you do is give him a smile, thanking him lightly, and turning on your heel to make your way inside the venue.
“Wait,” he calls, swallowing thickly, and reaching into the pocket of his pants to fish out something he should have given you back in the limousine. “We can hardly be engaged without this.”
He holds out the ring for you to see, taking your hand in his and gently placing the band on your finger, an act so intimate that he feels like a sham for even doing it, but he’s admiring the moment, no matter how small. Your hand is so soft, he could hold it for hours.
“Robert,” you speak quietly, for the two of you. “Where did you get this?”
He shakes his head, rubbing his finger over the ring. “Something I had on me. Don’t worry, I didn’t buy anything expensive.”
“But it’s… well, it’s beautiful, Robert, but—”
“Then it’s perfect since it suits you.”
Goodness, where did that come from? He’s been running on nerves like an injection in his bloodstream, and then he suddenly comes out with that. He won’t lie to himself, he’s always secretly wanted to act like this around you, to call you beautiful and hold your hand whenever he needed, but he was too afraid of scaring you off, of you running away from him like everyone else has. It was safer to pine in quiet, but with the stakes so high tonight, he’s not sure how long that silence will last.
“Aren’t you the charmer?” you smile at him, linking your arm with his again, your face looking forward.
Whether it was his imagination or his hopes, he swears your smile was there to hide your blush, visible or not. It’s enough of a confidence boost to have him looking back to normal, or the closest thing to normal, at least. Even if this all goes up in flames, he knows he’s going to think back to the feeling of your arm wrapped around his for a long, long time, and the beauty of you in that dress.
He just needs to get through tonight first.
“This place is gorgeous,” you say beside him, head titled toward his shoulder. “Look at that chandelier!”
He has to lower your pointed finger with a friendly smile, the kind of politeness a parent gives their child when they’re being too loud, earning a bashful smile from you in return.
“Sorry,” you slightly laugh. “It’s exciting, is all.”
“Not when you’ve been here every year since you were a kid,” he mutters. “Trust me, it’s not all that great.”
“Well, you just never had me with you before.”
It was a joke, he can tell by the tone of your voice, but how true your words are. He would be sauntering into the building and grabbing the first glass of champagne his eyes would land on, downing it and looking for another, if you weren’t here with him. Now, with you, it’s not so bad. But he knows not to speak too soon, especially when a familiar face makes their way over to where the two of you stand.
He can feel the pressure tightening in his chest. “Uncle Peter,” he says as soon as the man in question is close enough to hear him.
“Robert, good to see you here so early.” he grins, then looks over at you. “You must be Robert’s girl who I hear so much about.”
Robert manages to hold himself back before he can say she’s my friend. Tonight, you were more than a friend. It’s hard to break out of routine, despite his regular daydreams.
“Lovely to finally meet you,” you say, offering your hand to shake. “It’s good to put a face to the name.”
“I can say the same. I’ve been nagging Robert to introduce me to you for months.”
“This is the first I’m hearing it,” you look over at Robert, who’s got his gaze directed on the opposite wall. “Better late than never.”
“Yes, and how nice to have you here with us.”
She’s here for the food, Robert wants to say but knows better than to make that kind of joke in front of his uncle. He’s not been the most humorous of people as of late, and though he knows you’re here to help, there is a tinge of possibility that you really are only here for the food. You did mention it over the phone.
“Come, I have some people I would like you to meet.” uncle Peter says to Robert, but smiles at you as well.
He’s sure you can feel the stiffness of his body, the way he’s standing still like a tree planted so deep in its roots that it can’t be moved, but you’re tugging at his arm gently enough to get him stepping in the direction his uncle just went, seeing a group of people in a circle with glasses in their hands and the very obvious sound of fake laughter. He hates this place so much.
When they reach the circle, uncle Peter introduces everyone by name and explains their role in the industry, as well as why they’re so important. Or more rather, why they’re so important to the company. Robert knows this gala was for business agreements and negotiations alone, not to meet others or simply enjoy a night of conversation. It was all calculated, all planned. Meet this person because of their worth, talk to this person because of their connections. Smile here, laugh there, flirt if it’s going to get you a deal. It was all fake, all for show or self-benefit.
“Now, don’t be rude, Robert.” says one woman, a smile playing on red lipstick. “Introduce us.”
It’s when she waves a finger between herself and you beside him does he understand what she means, almost believing her a mind reader. “Oh, yes. Um,” his throat suddenly feels dry, on the tip of telling the first lie out of what will most likely be hundreds tonight. The one honesty is your name, and when that’s spoken, his throat feels less tight. “She’s my fiancée.”
It was almost impossible to ignore the way uncle Peter reacts, almost causing a tornado at how quickly he spins to look at Robert. A chuckle comes from you when you shake the woman’s hand, obviously noting his uncle’s reaction as well.
“Recently?” the woman asks.
“Yes,” Robert says, so stiffly.
You manage to take hold of the reigns, thankfully, as he couldn’t speak another word. “It hasn’t been more than a month, but it feels like only yesterday. I get so happy every time I think of it.”
Robert’s going to drown himself with the next champagne glass he sees, especially when the woman is beckoning you forward to show them the ring, all remarking on its beauty, with the exception of uncle Peter who is burning holes through his head.
“A very lucky woman, you are,” says one man. “You’ll have no trouble in life, being a Fischer.”
Now it’s your turn to go stiff, Robert can feel it instantly with your arm still looped around his. Your smile stays showing on your lips, though he can tell it was forced. He knows you well enough to realize when you’re upset by something, but even now he can tell it was more than just a simple irritation, especially when you suddenly straighten your posture.
He quickly talks over you before you can say anything offensive, not wanting a repeat of the time some random lady had gotten angry at him for no reason and you had gone in for the kill, explaining that the two of you should make your rounds with the other people in attendance before it gets too late in the night, despite it only just starting. Uncle Peter tries to grab his arm before he can turn away, but he shakes his head and tells him that they’ll speak later, leading you away from everyone.
“I was going to rip him a new one for assuming I’m marrying you for your wealth,” you say angrily, but quietly enough that it doesn’t attract unwanted attention. “Who does he think I am? The person matters more than the name.”
“You remember that we’re not actually engaged, don’t you?” Robert says, unable to hold back a grin.
You stutter for a moment, pushing out your bottom lip in the cutest pout he has ever seen. A server passes you both by, and you reach out to grab a glass before they get too far. “I’m acting.”
“Rather well,” Robert nods, accepting the last glass before the server walks away. “I’m starting to think you actually love me.”
You push a hand against his shoulder playfully, but as a warning as well. “Of course, I love you. That’s what makes it so easy, but don’t let it get to that big head of yours.”
“Big head?” he smiles, looking you over the glass he brings to his lips for a slow sip.
You make a face, nudging the bottom of the glass just enough to have him catch the movement before the champagne can spill. He looks at you with an open mouth, something he swears he hasn’t done since he was young, and it has you laughing. Robert can’t hold himself back from pressing a finger exactly where he knows your ticklish spot is, making you squeal and hit his chest playfully with a smile as bright as his.
Unfortunately, this gains some unwanted attention, as suddenly he’s getting a slap on his arm from his secretary. “First you keep the engagement a secret and now you’re hiding her from me. I expected you to see me as soon as you stepped through that door.”
He forces an apology out of his laughter-filled mouth, trying to compose himself again. He’s not sure of the last time he’s felt this carefree, not even sure of the last time he’s genuinely laughed. You make him feel like a kid again, unbroken.
“You know, he really told me nothing,” she says, her attention on you. “But I got the truth out of him.”
“Yes,” you smile, beaming at him for a moment before you look back at her. “I heard he accidentally let it slip.”
“The nerve!” she slaps his arm again. “I ought to quit because of that, you know.”
You laugh, rubbing a hand on his arm that’s gotten quite the beating tonight. “It’s my fault. I asked him not to say anything.”
He looks at you instantly, wondering how you’re running with this so casually—carrying the conversation from before and now this, too. Was it really an act, or were you secretly enjoying this? He takes a gulp of his champagne before he can let the yearning sit too comfortably in his chest.
“Well, that I can forgive. Living in the moment and all that.” his secretary nods, taking a sip from her glass. “How did he propose, anyway?”
Damn it. He hadn’t even thought about that or even considered running through some kind of story with you in advance. How could he have overlooked it? Is he dumb? It was the most important detail he’s missed, the one thing he should’ve realized everyone would be asking about tonight. Think, Robert. Think!
“It’s a funny story,” he starts, licking his lips and trying to form a convincing sentence in his head to use, but he’s drawing a blank.
Your hand squeezes his arm, the smile never leaving your lips. Save me, his eyes are telling you. I am, your eyes say back. “What he means is, there’s not much to say. I think he surprised even himself.”
His secretary laughs. “That sounds like Robert.”
“It was over the phone,”
“Oh, Robert!” another slap to his arm. “I mean, goodness, that really does sound like you, but really?”
You chuckle, easing his anxiety like a fan to flames. “No, it was sweet. He was so charming about it, telling me how much he loves me. Right, sweetie?”
The pet name alone knocks him back a few ranks of whatever ladder you put him on, choking lightly on the champagne he was trying to drink. Your hand pats his back, rubbing against his coat in circular motions.
“He gets embarrassed easily.” the words are so ready, but even if it was for the sake of the lie, it really wasn’t false. You make him so flustered sometimes.
Your eyebrows raise at him and he’s giving you a look, pleading, to say, please don’t make me do this, but you pat his back a little rougher and he caves. “Yes… darling.”
His secretary shakes her head, smiling like a proud grandmother. “I’ve been wanting him hitched for years. You don’t know how happy I am about this.”
There’s that smile again from you, the one that sits on your lips just for show because you’re mulling over something in your head that doesn’t sit right with you, just like before when the businessman made a comment on Robert’s own family wealth. But this time, the smile on your lips is sadder. He wonders what changed. You were only smirking at him a moment before.
“So,” his secretary practically bounces on her heels. “Do you have plans?”
“Plans?” you ask, fingers coming back to life against his back.
“We haven’t considered the details yet,” Robert says, seeing that he has to take the wheel while you’re still deep in whatever thought you’re in.
“Of course. You only get one wedding. Well, you should, anyway.” it’s a glare sent to him, warning him not to break your heart, but when her gaze lands on you, it’s firmer. “I mean long term. Kids.”
“Oh,” it’s practically a gasp, the words seeing to finally pull you out of your mind with that kind of shocking statement that has Robert speechless. “Well, I… we haven’t thought that far.”
“Robert!” comes an all too familiar voice, a hand slapped down on his shoulder as uncle Peter steps into view, thankfully. “Sorry, ladies, I need to borrow him for a little business.”
“Can’t you enjoy these parties just once?” says Robert’s secretary, rolling her eyes and sipping from her drink again.
“Sorry,” Robert says, not even sure why he’s the one to say it when it’s uncle Peter who’s dragging him away. He turns to you, a hand placed on the small of your back. “I won’t be long.”
And then, without even thinking, he leans forward and presses a quick kiss on your lips, something almost instinctual, turning on his heel and leaving with his uncle before he can even register what he’s just done. By the time the realization hits him, he’s already being pulled into a separate room for the meeting, not even being able to turn back and look at you. He just kissed you, something he’s only ever dreamed about doing, and he has no idea how you reacted. The only thing that’s keeping him from running back to you is the fact that you didn’t push him away.
Meetings go for so long, but this one seems longer. He’s standing there, shifting from leg to leg with his arms crossed, then at his sides, then crossed again. He’s barely paying attention to what’s being said but has enough sense left in him to not agree to anything unless it’s written down. He’s glad when it’s over, with everyone filing out of the room. He’d be the first one out the door if it weren’t for his uncle grabbing him firmly by the shoulder and asking—well, more like demanding—for him to stay.
“This girl,” his uncle says, closing the door when the last person has left. Robert speaks your name and his uncle repeats it, shaking his head. “You really like her, don’t you?”
“We are engaged, uncle Peter.” it’s a monotone statement, but spoken quickly.
“It seems a bit sudden.” when Robert remains silent, his uncle sighs. “You gave her your mother’s ring.”
Robert swallows thickly, nodding so shortly that he can hardly feel his head move. He could agree with his uncle, say it was sudden since that wouldn’t be a lie at all. He could tell him that he remembered last minute that this lie would hold only if he had a ring, and he didn’t have enough time to buy something from the jeweler’s, so he gave you his mother’s ring instead. But that would also be far from the truth because deep down he’s always dreamt of giving you a ring, his mother’s ring, and if he could see you wearing it if only for one night, then maybe he could convince himself that dreams can come true.
“I know you’re a private man, Robert,” his uncle continues. “And that you don’t have to tell me everything. You know how much I empathize with you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Robert looks at him fully, after having had his gaze elsewhere in the room just in case his uncle could tell what he’d done. Now it’s set on his eyes. “What are you trying to tell me, uncle Peter? That she’ll leave me? Divorce me when she’s got her hands on my inheritance, is that it?”
“I’m only trying to look out for you,” his uncle reaches for his shoulder again, but Robert pushes back his arm. “I care about you, and until tonight I’ve never met her.”
“She’s not a stranger.”
“I know that. I’m just saying—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Robert, please.”
But he’s holding up a hand to stop his uncle in the middle of his sentence, making his way to the door and swinging it open, ready to storm out. Then he pauses and looks right back at him, letting out a truth with enough confidence to slay his uncle’s doubts. “I love her, uncle Peter.”
His uncle nods, looking down at his shoes. “Then I trust you.”
Robert doesn’t spend another minute in the room, walking out and leaving the door open for his uncle to follow after. He couldn’t hold himself back from getting so upset about what his uncle had suggested. You, steal from him? That’s the very last thing he would ever expect you to do, and his uncle should feel the same way. Robert’s spoken about you ever since the first meeting and had been teased by his uncle more than once before that he was getting rather attached to you. So what was his issue tonight? The only thing Robert can bring himself to understanding is the ring. It’ll never leave the box, that’s what Robert had said after his mother passed. Not unless I fall in love.
He had fallen, ridiculously. You were the one person who made him feel safe, helped him to feel important enough to care about. When he had rough days, you were there to console him. When he hadn’t been taking care of himself like he should’ve, you were there with packed lunches and a joke to tell. Honestly, he hadn’t realized at first that he had fallen for you. His mind has always been focused on the business, and especially his father as of late. One look at you in that dress, and the way the ring fit perfectly on your finger, made Robert know for sure.
Now the night he so desperately wanted to fly by, he now doesn’t want to end. Especially when he sees you standing off to the side, eyes looking around the room until they settle on him and crinkle with your smile. The warmth rises in his chest again, and he’s making his way to you, noticing the band setting up and people beginning to make their way to the center of the room in couples.
When he reaches you, your hand goes to his coat, smoothing out the flap along his chest, once again settling his heart. He could melt under your touch. “Would you like to dance?”
You nod without a hint of hesitation, humming in agreement, and when Robert’s hand holds yours, he swears he could float across the room. Instead, he leads you there, never taking his eyes off of you, and when you both reach the middle he pulls you close to him, his heart beating loudly in his chest. It only beats louder when he moves one arm to wrap around you like he was giving you a hug, so that he can pull you in closer still with tender eyes, just enough so that the temple of his head gently rests against yours. He feels your feather-like breath on his neck, a squeeze of his hand when the music begins to play and he sways you in his arms. A gentle dance, steps taken together, hovering on music notes.
“I had practically the whole room congratulate me while you were gone,” you say, hand on his shoulder. “Word travels fast here.”
“It always does with businesses,” Robert states, growing to hate the company life all over again after it meant little to nothing while he was dancing with you.
When you nod, he can feel the fringes of your hair against his skin. “So, how was the meeting?”
“Like they always are,” he sighs. “Unexciting.”
“Are they trying to change things again?”
Yes, they were. A day after his father died, they’ve been trying to change the company. Robert doesn’t understand how they can’t see how insensitive it is, how heartless it was to keep trying. He shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “Could we not talk business? I like dancing with you.”
Your hand on his shoulder gives him an encouraging squeeze, moving close enough that your chest brushes on his with every two steps, as if your heart was reaching out to lie against his, exchanging heartbeats. Calming him down again, that was the magic of you.
“I’m glad, you know.” the words murmur from you, quiet and close enough for him to hear.
“Glad about what?” he asks, his fingers moving against their place on your back.
“That I’m here.” your head turns an inch, and he feels your lips brush against his jaw. “That this happened in the first place.”
His heart skips a beat, drumming inside of him. “You’re glad that you’re pretending to be my fiancée for one night?”
He makes sure to end it in a chuckle, something light, still too scared to be anything more than cautious with you, still tiptoeing in case you change your mind and leave him. The worries grow when you don’t say anything. Robert considers pulling back from you first, not wanting to feel you slip out of his arms.
Then you say, “Does it have to be for one night?” you do pull away from him, but not in the way he feared. You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, your hand that rested on his shoulder slowly creeping up the back of his neck to twirl fingers in his hair, ever so gently. “You kissed me.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” he rushes to say, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth and the drums in his chest growing louder.
“You shouldn’t think straight more often.” comes your whispered reply, inching close enough that your nose brushes against his.
He’s jittery, opening his mouth to say words that fizzle into the air between you two—air that’s slim, so close that you’re breathing in his empty words like you can understand them. He wants to kiss you again, but he’s scared. No matter what you tell him, or how you touch him, Robert can’t begin to accept that you could care for him in the way that he loves you. Could he, if he lets himself, completely fall, this time with no parachute, no soft landing? Could he rely on you to catch him, if he lets himself fall without the protection of a safety net?
“Yes,” he whispers, answering his question out loud. He trusts you, he loves you. Even the heartbreak would be worth it, just to let himself love you with nothing to hold him back. “I’m glad too.”
The fingers in his hair twitter, a comforting sensation that makes his eyes close as he leans, his forehead resting against yours. The swaying feels more like rocking, now with his eyes closed, like a boat on open water being carried by the gentle waves. In this room it’s just the two of you, the others aren’t here, not for this moment. It’s you and him, and he begins to believe that it will be you and him for a long time. A wish on stars, a promise from a dream, all are possible while he holds you.
Robert finds that his earlier wish, of the night to go by fast, does indeed come true. After the dance, he brought you around to meet other board members, seeing as he still had many people to talk to. His uncle left the two of you unbothered, though his secretary would appear out of thin air every now and then to ask more questions and get to know you better, saying that it was important being Robert’s secretary. You never groaned, never told someone to go away or complained. You answered every question put to you with the best of your ability, and whenever you looked at him, you smiled.
When the night truly ends, with everyone walking down the outside steps and leaving in their expensive vehicles, uncle Peter catches you both before you can get away. Robert is expecting another warning from his uncle, maybe even something directed at you, or perhaps that he has one final meeting to attend before he can go home and relax, but it’s none of those. Instead, uncle Peter walks right up to you and pulls you in for a hug, one that startles even yourself, maybe more than Robert, with your eyes blown wide.
“You look after him,” uncle Peter says, slightly muffled with his chin against your coat. “You take care of him. Promise me that.”
“I promise,” your voice speaks over his shoulder, patting him on the back with the genuinity of your words, giving Robert relief as well.
“You make him happy. You might never grasp the full extent of how grateful I am of that.”
The same sad smile Robert had seen twice inside tonight settles back on your lips as you hug his uncle a little tighter before he pulls away. He turns to face Robert, patting his arm and stating that he picked a good one, an honest one, he emphasizes. It shatters his heart to hear the words from his uncle, a man so important in his life who doesn’t know the truth of what you two are doing, or what you two have done. He notices the same guilt written on your face, a sign you try to erase with the shake of your head as you quickly duck down to sit inside the limousine. Robert follows on the other side, after saying goodbye to his uncle, telling his driver your address, and the vehicle kicks to life.
The two of you sit in the backseat in silence, not wanting to pierce the veil of the story you had made up. Tonight Robert had let himself love you, but it was time to go back to his real life. This was the pumpkin and it was about to strike midnight. It’s close to it by the time your house comes into view from the window, and your hand reaches for his with your gaze still pointed outside. The touch was there to tell Robert what he was already thinking, that if you both try then maybe you can keep ahold of this lie for a little longer, stretching out the minutes before a new day comes and washes away anything that could have been more between the two of you.
Robert helps you out of the backseat and walks you to your doorstep, still silent as you slide your key into the lock and shove open the door. Yet, you stand there, not making a move to walk forward. Your eyes are set on the floor, blinking back what was most likely a hundred thoughts in your head on the precipice of gushing out. He’s prepared to say goodnight but then you come back to life, looking at him.
“Would you like to come inside?” the offer doesn’t feel dangerous, or suggestive. It’s a question put to him with the hopes that he can read your mind for the answer you want to hear. “For a moment.”
He nods his head, sliding his hand along the door to keep it propped open for you to walk inside first, flicking on the light from the switch by the door. He waves to his driver, who knows to stay put, and walks inside after you, quietly closing the door, watching as you step toward the staircase that’s right across from the entryway and sit down on the fourth step up, patting a hand on the carpet to usher him next to you. Robert answers your silent call by sitting down on the step below the one you’re on, giving you a smile when you take your shoes off and move them to the side.
“I had a really good time.” it’s a mask on top of the truth, a sheet covering why you were invited in the first place.
“So did I.” Robert agrees, admitting himself of that, at least. He turns a fraction to rest an arm on his leg, leaning closer to you. “I think that’s the first time I’ve enjoyed going there.”
“Because I was with you,” the sentence is a tease, but Robert nods his head, agreeing wholeheartedly.
A silence settles again, but this time it’s welcoming. It puts a pause on the night, stilling the clocks. A job well done is what he should be telling you, though he can’t find it within himself to say. He had convinced himself that loving you for one night would conquer the heartbreak of it ending, but he was wrong. Robert’s sitting on the step with his heart in his hands, fractured beyond the repair he knows is out of reach. He let himself hope, let himself love, and now his time is up.
“Your secretary was so nice and your uncle, too. They really supported us being engaged.” it’s obvious in your voice that you’re sad, with the exception of the tears welling in your eyes. “I thought it would be easier to lie to them but it wasn’t.”
Robert places a hand on your arm, warm against the cold of your coat. “You were trying to help me.”
“Didn’t really help, though, did I? You’ll be a single man again by morning, and they’ll all have to find out.”
“I know,” he admits, adding to the fire, smoke covering what was left to add to what he said.
The next words you speak come out in a whisper, a tear running down your cheek. “I promised your uncle.”
Now his hand reaches for your face, cupping it, and when you lean into his touch a piece of his heart mends. The other hand wipes away your tear. “You aren’t breaking it. You take care of me, you always have. A ring off of your finger won’t change that.”
He almost tore his heart again by the mere mention of his mother’s ring, still on your finger, having grown to be there. It suits you so perfectly that he can’t see anyone else wearing it. That ring belongs to you now, whether you realize it or not, and it truly won’t ever leave the box this time because Robert could never love anyone like he loves you.
“You’ll be wanting it back,” you say softly, glancing down at the ring on your finger.
“Yes,” he whispers, the single word he had once spoken to admit he was willing to let himself fall now being the word to put up a barrier. The ground feels harder at the impact than he thought it would be.
His hand moves to hold your own, lifting it up to admire how perfect this picture looks. He frames it in his mind, knowing it’ll hang there for as long as he lives, like a photo in a wallet. Your skin still is soft, he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to hold your hand because he can, because you’ll let him. But he only wants to hold it if the ring stays on, which he knows isn’t possible. With a hitched breath, he brushes his fingers along to grasp the ring, a second away from pulling it off and whatever promise came with it.
He hesitates, and you speak. “You could leave it there.”
When his eyes meet yours, he feels himself knocked back by the strength of your words reflected in your gaze, a statement truthful and honest and too stubborn to move. He doesn’t know if this is real, if he’s only dreaming. If he kept the ring on your finger, let it sit there tomorrow and the day after that and all the days that you wanted it to stay, would that mean that you wanted him to stay, too? The lie built up tonight is what you’re offering to become real, and Robert is frozen on the spot on the stairs.
“Will you?” again a whisper, this time sounding like the worries he had, scared to be turned away.
Complete in both its honesty and its longing is your assurance to Robert that you love him too. A smile breaks out on his face, the salty taste on his tongue when he feels himself on the brink of crying, possibly more than you had. But it’s a pure reaction because a weight is lifted off of him with your question, with the words that affirm to Robert that his hopes weren’t for nothing. They were exactly where they’re supposed to be, with you. He knows you’ll keep them safe. He knows that more than anything.
“Did you just propose to me?” he asks, a chuckle adding another bandaid to his heart.
It adds one more when you bite your lip, smiling like you had to hold the giddiness back from bursting out of you. “I believe I did.”
The happiness he feels is nothing compared to anything else, especially against what happiness he has felt in the last few months, even years. It’s a fact that only you can make him feel this way, like he’s lighter than air but strong at the same time. You give him the smiles, the laughter, the resilience to get through each day, and now you’ve given him love. Though you’ve given it before, this time it was firm and unmoveable. This time it was planted in his heart to build a home. You fixed it. You fixed his heart.
Robert almost moves too quickly when he pushes himself up one more step, his hand still settled on your cheek. The sudden movement has you chuckling, nestling your fingers in his hair like you had when the two of you had danced. It urges him to move in closer still until his nose bumps yours and has you both smiling like fools. He’d tell a thousand more lies if it meant you were his, though he was yours as well. He always has been.
His lips wait anxiously but he doesn’t want to rush this moment. He takes a breath, leans forward, and brushes his lips against yours, then whispers against them, “I say yes, by the way.”
“I figured,” you laugh, pulling him toward you and meeting his kiss.
It wouldn’t be the last, not for a long time. And his mother’s ring never goes back inside the box. It stays on your finger, always.