I may have said too much, but even in a fake marriage, I believe she deserves the chance to be surprised with a proper engagement ring.
I want to propose in front of her parents—most likely after she tells them everything. Only after she says yes will I need to speed up the entire wedding process and use my position as a married man to achieve my goals.
I walk into the jewelry store, where the custom-made ring I arranged is waiting for me. After paying and signing the necessary documents, I leave with the piece but slip it into my pocket so I don't have to carry the bag. Only then do I go after the car seat and everything else.
With twenty minutes left before the time I told her to meet me, I sit down in the food court to wait for her. As soon as I settle at a table, my phone rings.
— No.
— Uncle, I haven't even said anything yet, Amanda complains on the other end of the line.
— I know exactly why you're calling, Amanda. You're trying to avoid getting scolded in person and think it'll be easier over the phone, I say. — Is that how you expect me to see you as an adult?
— That's not fair.
— And you're being irresponsible. Do you think you can run your own life acting like this? Until you turn eighteen, Amanda, I'm the one in charge.
— Maybe I should just leave and free you from the responsibility of taking care of me. You'll already have plenty to deal with taking care of your criminal fiancée! she snaps, and I know she's already back with Henrique.
— I know you enjoy your comfortable life too much to give it up. And don't ever insult Malia again, Amanda. Otherwise, I won't be so lenient when I get back.
— I'll tell Grandma and Grandpa, she says, as if it were a threat. I can't help but laugh.
— Go ahead. And forget your credit card—I'll freeze all your accounts for an entire month.
I hear her huff in frustration before the call ends.
Amanda is far too much like her mother—and that's not a good thing.
Angelina was irresponsible and immature. Always causing trouble, always driving our parents crazy. She only really changed after she got pregnant with Amanda. Her relationship with Stefan had always been hanging by a thread, but everything shifted overnight. She settled down, stayed home, and devoted herself to their daughter.
She was happy.
But when Amanda was almost two, Angelina and Stefan went out to celebrate their wedding anniversary. There was an accident, and neither of them survived. Since then, I've had custody of Amanda. My parents moved into my house to help me raise her, and we've lived together for the past fourteen years.
They spoiled her too much. I was always the one setting limits—and now I'm seeing where that's led.
Angelina was irresponsible, but she wasn't foolish.
Not like Amanda is becoming.
— We're here.
I hear Malia's voice and look up to see her smiling, her daughter in her arms and several shopping bags hanging from her wrist.
— Let me take those, I say, already reaching for the bags. — We should eat something before we go. What would you like?
She looks around, thinking.
— Could we eat at a restaurant? That way I can order some mashed potatoes and feed Sofia, she asks, a little shy.
— Of course. I know a great place here in the mall.
We get up, and I lead them to the restaurant. After requesting a more private table, we sit down and place our orders.
Along with mashed potatoes, Malia orders roasted pork and a salad, so I order the same.
— Eduardo… are you sure about all this? What I mean is… I come with a lot of baggage, Malia says after the waiter leaves.
— Absolutely. Don't worry. I told you I'd make you my wife, and you'll have everything you need and want, I say, holding her gaze.
— But I don't need much. Just what you promised, she replies, hugging her daughter close.
— I know. And I intend to keep my word.
She smiles.
It doesn't take long for our food to arrive. Malia feeds her daughter mashed potatoes and small pieces of meat, eating in between each bite the child takes.
— Ready to go? I ask once we've finished.
Though I notice her hesitation, she nods.
We leave the mall with all the purchases, placing everything in the car and installing the car seat in the back.
I secure the seat right in the middle and leave anything Sofia might need within reach.
After fastening her carefully, we move to the front. With the bags and the size of the seat, there wouldn't be enough room for Malia to sit comfortably in the back, so she stays with me.
I start driving toward the city exit and notice her picking at the corner of her nails. Without taking my eyes off the road, I remove one hand from the wheel and place it over hers.
— Relax. Your parents will be happy to see you—and Sofia.
— I know. I just… I don't want them to be disappointed in me, she says, her voice tight.
— I know you're going to lie about us, but… you don't have to lie about everything, I say, aware that she's looking at me even if I don't look back. — Tell them the truth. About Henrique, about losing custody, and about how we're going to file for it again after we get married. Tell them everything. It'll make the lie about our engagement easier to carry.
— They'll ask questions. A lot of questions. About everything… about us, she says, her hands trembling slightly in mine. I tighten my grip.
— Then this will be our story, I say, glancing at her briefly before returning my eyes to the road. — I saw you once, walking alone on the beach on a hot summer day. I thought you were beautiful. I wanted to approach you, but I wasn't sure if you were alone, so I admired you from afar. A few days later, I saw you again at the store where you worked, while that woman was making a scene—we'll keep that part, since it's true. I admired the way you didn't let her humiliate you, and I remembered you from the beach. But I thought you might be nervous, so I didn't approach you then either. Let's say I spent a few days thinking about you—much better than admitting I gathered information on you to convince you to be my fake wife.
I smile, and she gives a small one back.
— Then one day, I saw you entering my company for an interview. We can't say I interviewed you—I'm the boss, I don't do that—but I saw you walk in and finally worked up the courage to talk to you and ask for your number. You were surprised, but you gave it to me, and then you went to your interview. You didn't get the job, but I contacted you afterward. We talked for a while, and then I asked you out. After a few dates, I asked you to be my girlfriend, and that's when you found out the company was mine. It didn't affect our relationship, and we've been doing well these past two months. That's it. What do you think? Want to add anything?
I glance at her again. She's thoughtful.
— I don't know how you came up with all that, but it's not unrealistic… and it's believable, she says. — Let's use that as the base. When we tell it, we can adjust things… or add a few dates.
— Whatever you prefer. Now relax—nothing is going to go wrong.
I squeeze her hand again.
And I don't let go for the rest of the drive.