Yeah, he demanded my ‘obedience,’ saying that we might need to practice that part of our arrangement since I’m such a ball-buster, but he did it with such a roguish charm, a sort of gentlemanly imperiousness, that I still felt like he was doting over me. Deep inside, I liked that he thought I was tough too, not some vapid little girl chasing after him but rather a challenge, an equal, with thoughts and opinions of my own.

Like shopping for my engagement ring. At first, I was going to pick out the simplest ring that I could see not embarrassing him, but when I tried, he took my hand and looked me in the eyes. “This is going to be the only engagement ring I’m ever going to give you,” he said to me while the salesgirl practically drooled over him and silently begged him to seed her ovaries. “I want our ring to reflect that . . . so pick out your dream ring.”

I’m still not sure what to make of that, but how could I refuse?

“So?” Abi asks, pulling my attention back to the office. “Did you tell him about your problem?”

“Yes,” I reply, cutting my eyes to Archie. “Can you get me a coffee? As black and thick as possible.”

He snaps, “One Lizzo special, coming right up.”

“Thanks,” I tell him as he disappears through the doorway, but I know he’s still listening. “And he told me about his problem too. For the record, we’re both going to kick your ass for scheming like that.”

“It’d be worth it,” Abi says with the sort of brutal honesty that makes her my best friend. “So, what’s the plan?”

My answer’s simple as I pull out my engagement ring and show it to her, her squeal jacking my headache up by a few notches. “Goddamn, girl, it’s beautiful!”

Her excitement has Archie hustling back with a half-full coffee cup that he basically drops in front of me so his hands are free to grab at the ring. He holds it up to the light. “Nice ice, ice, baby.”

“You know my head feels like I’ve been skull fucked all night, right?” I reply, cringing at their volume before regretting my words. “And again, no fucking went on between us.” I point back and forth from Abi to Archie to make sure they have that clear.

“Well, guess I’ll need to get those invitations reworked and ready, then,” Abi says. “So put the ring on!”

“We agreed to wait, make it a public proposal,” I answer, putting the ring away. “Don’t know when, but it’ll have to be fast. Two weeks and all.”

“Whirlwind romances can be the best, though,” Abi says hopefully.

Archie’s lips curl. “So, Boss Lady, speaking of public . . . in your whirlwind of an unexpected day off, did you see the paper, by any chance?”

I shake my head, confused. “No, why?”

He intones, “Dun-dun-dun-duuuuuuun . . .” He disappears back out to his desk for a split second and then slaps it open in front of me.

The gossip column headline blares out at me. Playboy Ross Andrews Has Another One on the Hook.

There’s a picture, and I wonder just how shitfaced I got last night based on my relaxed facial expression and unfocused eyes. Reluctantly, I read the copy, anger pulsing behind my eyeballs as I do. “A low-level interior designer wannabe?” I ask, seething. “I’m going to kick this bitch’s ass!”

“Relax,” Abi says soothingly. “Seriously, that writer always rips on whoever Ross gets photographed with. We think she has a crush on him, but we can handle that. Lord knows, Dad has had to call the paper before to threaten lawsuits if they don’t cease and desist.”

“But my reputation—” I start, groaning when my phone rings and I see the name. Mom. “Nope, not answering that.”

As soon as it stops, the office phone starts to ring, and Abi reaches for it and I try to stop her. “Uh-uh! Leave that damn thing down!”

“Why? It’s not like anything’s official yet,” Abi says, and before I know it, we’re struggling over the cordless phone.

Archie, unperturbed, sips at the coffee he got for me. That thief. “Two girls, one phone . . . so not my thing.”

“Dammit, Abi, please!” I beg, finally snatching the phone from her. “Let me think!”

“What do you need to think about?” Abi asks, grinning in confusion. “You are linked to Ross now. He’s agreed to be your husband and you’re going to be his wife. Now, I know he’s an asshole sometimes, but he’s got a good side to him. He just . . . needs to be cajoled to show it a little more.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how to do that!” I seethe, putting the phone back down and silently vowing to call my mother later. “We’re going to kill each other before we even get down the aisle!”

The big picture of walking down the aisle with Papa and Ross standing there to greet me hits me all at once and I blanch. “Oh, my God, I’m marrying Ross Andrews!”

Abi is still smiling, though, even as I have a minor mental breakdown. “You two always fight like cats and dogs, but that’ll just make the makeup sex better.”

I’m starting to wonder about my best friend’s sanity because she seems to think this is no biggie. And shouldn’t she be weirded out to talk about her big brother’s sex life? Like, a few minutes ago, she was saying she wanted an edited version of the night and now she’s telling me to have crazy, wild makeup sex with Ross. Her brother.