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Amanda’s ears turn red, and I bite my cheek to stifle a laugh. I don’t think he could be colder if he tried.
“It certainly does work,” I say, trying to contrast with a warm smile as I place a hand on his knee. He doesn’t jerk at the contact, and I try to detach my mind from my palm, which is burning so much I’m scared it’ll burn a hole through his pants. “The algorithm is very thorough, and when we met for the first time, I immediately knew he was the one.”
Amanda crosses her legs and looks at me eagerly. “Oh, tell me more!”
“Well, we just hit it off. We liked a lot of the same things, and we saw life from the same perspective. It just made sense.”
“That’s wonderful,” Amanda sighs, glancing between the two of us. “You started dating right away?”
“Yes. We went on so many dates. I couldn’t tell you how many,” I joke. “Walks on the beach, nights at the movies, boat trips. And I think we tried every restaurant in LA, though we tried to keep a very low profile. Colton isn’t a big fan of getting his picture taken.”
“So, Colton Green is a romantic after all. Who knew?” she says with a chuckle.
“Well, I did create a dating app,” he grumbles, and I almost scold him. But I laugh instead.
“My fiancé has a dry sense of humor. It takes some getting used to,” I giggle, and Amanda replies with a small smile. “But to answer your question, Colton is a romantic. Think huge bouquets of flowers, love notes, and small gestures to remind me he cares.”
“Guilty as charged,” Colton says, looking at me curiously. “I just had to meet the right person, that’s all.”
The way he gazes at me, combined with his words, tugs at my heartstrings. Being the right person for Colton would be a dream come true. Not because of all the wonderful dates and gifts he’d give her, but because she’d have finally cracked the code, and that look in his eyes would be sincere.
“And how did he propose?” Amanda asks with a giddy smile. “Can you spill the beans?”
“Sure,” I say matching her smile while I try to piece together a story in my head. “It’s a good one. It came fast too, so I wasn’t expecting it one bit. He got a chef to cook me a meal entirely made up of truffles—my favorite—and by the time we got to dessert, he was on one knee with that beautiful ring in his palm, asking me to be his wife.”
“Aww. That’s adorable.” She turns to Colton. “And how did you choose the ring? It’s magnificent.”
“Yes, it is,” he says with a nod, except he’s still looking at me. His gaze lasts maybe one or two seconds, but I feel it to the depths of my soul. “The choice was impossible. I spent a long time at the store, not sure what to get until I saw it. Suddenly, it was strikingly obvious.”
Amanda wears a perplexed frown, and I glance at the ring, trying to understand what he means so I can jump in.
“Look closely,” Colton says, taking my hand and showing it to Amanda. “The color matches Jane’s eyes perfectly. The most beautiful shade on this planet.”
I swallow hard, having to refrain from throwing myself at him. Did he really pick this one because it matched my eyes? I assumed he sent an assistant to pick one out or something. Then, all the dots connect in my head. That’s why he was late to the photoshoot. Imagining Colton standing there, racking his brain as he scours the jewelry store for the perfect ring, does weird things to my stomach.
Amanda raises her arm. “Ooh, I got goosebumps,” she says with a chuckle. “You two are a beautiful couple. I hope you’ll be happy together.”
“Thank you,” Colton says, squeezing my hand. But all I can manage is a polite smile. The surge of emotions has taken my brain hostage, and I’m now wondering if this whole thing might have been a giant mistake.
14
Clothing Mishap
Jane
“Thank you,” Colton says once Amanda leaves and it’s just the two of us outside. “You did a great job with the interview.”
I smile. “You too. You’re not too bad at improv after all.”
“I just followed your lead. Plus, I didn’t have to lie much.”
His words hang between us, sucking all the oxygen from the air. Suddenly, I’m short of breath. The lingering doubt about him lying during the interview has just been crushed, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Or at least, I wish I’d feel differently. Why can’t we control our feelings? It’s beyond annoying.
“Anyway,” he says, looking away, “thanks. You really saved us back there. Refusing the interview would have been suspicious.”
I nod. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“And I apologize that we weren’t informed about it. Max definitely didn’t say anything about an interview—”
