The sight of food makes me so happy. “You guys are literal life savers; do you know that?” I ask, grabbing a chip. “I’m serious,” I say while chewing.
I take a sip of my drink and savor. Then I grab another chip, dip it, and stuff the whole, beautiful, satisfying thing into my mouth. I crunch loudly and I don’t care.
I just want to eat and drink and gossip with my friends and forget all about Chase Covington and how conflicted I feel. I close my eyes to savor the chip. When I open them again to get another chip, I realize that my friends are not happily eating and drinking with me, or even idly chatting.
Uh-oh. They are staring at me. Wild-eyed and crazy, even. Accusatory. Like I have a unicorn horn implanted into my forehead and didn’t offer to get them one. Both of their mouths hang open like a couple of angry, horrified codfish.
Did I forget to put on pants or something? Alarmed, I stop eating in order to look myself up and down. Then I stare back at my insane friends. “What?”
Fi clears her throat and points to my left hand.
I follow her gaze. Right to the gigantic diamond engagement ring that shines even brighter under the tiki lights than the north star in the night sky. The one that I completely forgot to take off in my rush to get here. Oh yeah, that.
I stare at it with them for a moment, like it had grown there out of thin air when I wasn’t looking. Like I am just as surprised as they are. Well, I came here tonight to come clean, so I guess it’s time for me to start.
I clear my throat. “Okay, um, I can explain.”
The expressions aimed at me turn from surprise to anger. They look really hot. And I guess I can’t blame them. In my defense, I feel like I’m in way over my head.
“Hold on,” I say, “it’s not what you think.”
“You’re not engaged?” Angie asks.
“Okay, that’s not entirely true. I guess it is what you think. I am engaged. Well, kind of.”
“Kind of?” Fi asks. “You can’t be kind of engaged. You either are or you aren’t.”
“Hey, now. That’s what I thought too. Right up until this morning,” I answer with what I hope is a charming smile. It’s apparently not charming enough, though. And so far, my confession has not helped my friends understand what is going on.
I can’t stand the tension between us. It’s awful. I already feel bad enough as it is about my sordid deal with Chase. It’s just really hard to explain everything that’s happened in the last couple of days.
At first, I thought that the worst thing in the world would be for them to find out. Now I know that it’s them finding out after the fact and them being angry at me. Why am I having so much trouble telling them the truth?
Angie scowls and grabs my hand to inspect the ring. Her eyes bug out for a moment as she surveys the giant rock. Then her gaze snaps up to meet mine. “Remember the ginger guy I dated that one time? The one who owned the pawn shop?”
I nod, wondering where she’s going with this.
“Well, the one good thing that came out of that relationship was that he taught me how to tell which diamonds real and which ones are fake. And despite how fucking gigantic and shiny this monstrosity is, it’s real. Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn up and down it was a cubic zirconia. But surprisingly, it’s not.”
Her eyes get wide again as she turns my hand over and over in the light of the tiki torches while her gaze goes from the ring, to me, to Fi, and then back to the ring.
Finally, she stops to look up at me. “Kaylee, this ring has to be worth at least six figures. Minimum.”
It’s my turn to hang my mouth open like a codfish. I hadn’t considered what the ring is worth because of everything else going on and because none of this feels real to me. Because it isn’t. Then I remember the texts and conversation with my mom. Ugh, it’s kind of real now, whether I like it or not.
“Who the hell are you engaged to,” Fi asks, alarmed. “Is it a drug dealer? Are they holding your family against their will? Are we next?” She leans in to whisper to me. “Are you okay, do you need us to stay in a well-lit, public place while we can call the authorities?”
I take a deep breath and pull my hand back. “No, I’m not in trouble. And no, he’s not a drug dealer. And we definitely don’t need any authorities. Are you crazy?”
Fi pushes my drink closer to me. “Okay, then. Drink this. And then you’re going to tell us everything, right?”
I nod vigorously and down the drink. They watch me like they’re hawks and I’m a mouse who they are worried is going to dart away at any moment.
It’s disconcerting. I eat a few more chips.
“Kaylee!” Angie protests.
“Okay, fine.” I lean in toward the middle of the table and whisper. “I am kind of, sort of engaged.”
They fake gasp at me, the act dripping with sarcasm. Then they make those hand gestures in the universal signal that means to get on with it. So I do.
“But it’s a fake engagement.”
More gasping, and this time their expressions turn angry.
I roll my eyes. “Look, I have a lot to unpack here, you’re going to want to pace yourselves, okay?”
They lean in, sensing that I’m finally about to get to the point. Now they are listening to me with rapt attention. I glance around to make sure none of the paparazzi are within range of my whispering voice. “I’m the Covington fiancé.”
“Shut the fuck
