Caleb’s grandmother’s house was the kind of place that made Tessa feel like she needed to apologize to the furniture for breathing near it.
High ceilings. Crown molding. Walls lined with paintings that were definitely not Hobby Lobby prints. The kind of tasteful understatement that screamed old money.
Tessa stood on the marble foyer, fingers twisting in her coat belt, ears filled with the muffled sounds of people in another room—clinking glasses, low laughter, the soft strains of a piano somewhere.
“You okay?” Caleb asked beside her.
“No,” she said honestly. “I’m going to throw up on a priceless rug.”
He smiled faintly. “Please don’t. My grandmother will bill me for it.”
“That helps,” she muttered.
He reached out, gently taking her free hand.
A familiar warmth settled in her chest.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “You faced Denby. You can handle my family.”
“Your family are armed with salad forks,” she said. “And judgment. Denby has one dimension. These people have… layers.”
He chuckled. “They’re just people, Tessa.”
“People who read *Town & Country* and own horses,” she said. “I saw the stable on the way in.”
“You think I grew up in a Regency novel,” he said.
“Prove me wrong,” she challenged.
He squeezed her hand. “You’re my fiancée,” he said softly. “To them, you’re the woman I chose. That gives you more power than you think.”
Her chest tightened. “Let’s hope they agree.”
He opened a small drawer by the door and pulled out a slim black box.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He flipped it open. Inside was a simple gold band. No stone. Just a warm, gleaming circle.
“For me,” he said. “Optics. If you’re wearing a ring, I should too.”
Her heart did something inconvenient. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” he said. “Makes it feel more… equal.”
“You have an equality complex,” she said.
“I have a fairness complex,” he corrected. “Let me have this.”
She watched him slide the band onto his left ring finger. It fit perfectly, of course.
“You’re really committing to the bit,” she said softly.
“It’s not a bit,” he said. “It’s… our agreement.”
Our.
Her stomach fluttered.
A voice called from the other room. “Caleb? Is that you?”
He rolled his shoulders. Showtime.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “But let’s go anyway.”
They entered a large, sunlit room that looked like a magazine spread. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a manicured lawn. A long dining table gleamed under a crystal chandelier, already set with china, crystal, and more silverware than Tessa knew how to use.
Around it clustered a small group of people. An older woman with steel-gray hair cut in a sharp bob sat at the head of the table, posture straight as a ruler. This had to be Elise.
Beside her, a woman in her fifties with perfect blowout hair and tasteful pearls—Caleb’s mother, probably. A man in a blazer who looked like an older, slightly softer version of Caleb—his father. A young woman in her late twenties with a ponytail and a mischievous glint—sister. A couple of assorted aunts and uncles.
They all turned as Caleb led Tessa in, their gazes sweeping over her like searchlights.
“Everyone,” Caleb said, voice even. “This is Tessa. My fiancée.”
The word still sent a jolt through her.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then Elise rose, surprisingly spry, and walked toward them. Up close, the fine lines around her eyes and mouth told a story of laughter and stern words given in equal measure.
She stopped in front of Tessa, looking her over. Not unkindly. Assessing.
“Let me see it,” she said.
Tessa blinked. “See…?”
“The ring,” Elise said, like it was obvious.
“Oh.” Tessa held up her left hand. The diamond flashed.
Elise took her hand between both of hers, fingers cool but gentle.
“Good stone,” she said, approving. “Not vulgar.”
“High praise,” Caleb murmured.
Elise ignored him. She looked up, meeting Tessa’s gaze.
“And you,” she said slowly. “You’re the woman who convinced my grandson to stop dodging brunch invitations.”
Tessa swallowed. “I… suppose I am.”
A pause. Then, to her surprise, Elise smiled.
“Welcome to the family, dear,” she said. “You must be very patient.”
A ripple of laughter went around the table. Tessa exhaled.
“Come,” Elise said, tucking Tessa’s hand into the crook of her arm as if they’d done this a hundred times. “Sit by me. I want to hear everything.”
Tessa shot Caleb a panicked glance over her shoulder. He gave her a small, encouraging nod and mouthed, “You’ve got this.”
Traitor.
Elise guided Tessa to a chair at her right. Caleb took the seat on Tessa’s other side, their knees brushing under the table. His presence was a steady hum.
Introductions blurred. Names, relationships, context. Caleb’s mother, Julia. His father, Thomas. His sister, Abby. Aunt Margaret, Uncle David.
“Tell us how you met,” Julia said as everyone settled in, voice warm and curious.
“At the mall,” Tessa said, grateful for one question she could answer without improvisation. “He was… having trouble buying a watch.”
“Trouble?” Thomas echoed, amused. “That sounds like Caleb.”
“He was about to buy something twice his budget because he felt bad saying no to the sales guy,” Tessa said. “I… intervened.”
Laughter. Caleb shook his head. “You make me sound like a mark.”
“You are a mark,” Abby said. “You overtip. It’s a problem.”
“It’s not a problem,” Elise said. “It’s why God made grandchildren.”
Julia smiled at Tessa. “And what made you say yes when he asked you out?”
Tessa’s heart thumped. They hadn’t actually solidified this part.
“He…” She glanced at Caleb, at his steady gaze. “He listened when I said no cheese on my burger.”
Julia blinked. “That’s the bar now?”
“You’d be surprised how many men think they know how you should eat better than you do,” Tessa said lightly. “He didn’t. He just… listened.”
Something softened in Julia’s expression. “A man who listens is a rare thing.”
“So is a woman who talks sense into him,” Elise said. “You have my blessing.”
The brunch spread was laid out buffet-style: quiche, fruit, pastries, roasted potatoes. Someone handed Tessa a mimosa. She clung to it like a lifeline.
As they ate, questions flew—some benign, some barbed.
“What do you do, Tessa?” Aunt Margaret asked.
“I work at a jewelry store,” Tessa said. “Radiance Jewelers. At Lakeside Galleria.”
“Elise’s mall,” Abby said.
“Elise’s?” Tessa repeated faintly.
“Wardstone owns the property,” Thomas said. “But Mother named that one.”
“It sounded better than ‘Wardstone Shopping Complex,’” Elise said dryly. “What do you do at the store?”
“Sales associate,” Tessa said. “Customer service. Inventory. A bit of everything.”
“How long have you been there?” Julia asked.
“Three years,” Tessa said.
“Hm.” Aunt Margaret sipped her coffee. “And what are your… long-term aspirations?”
Tessa resisted the urge to shrink. “Eventually, I’d like to go back to school,” she said. “Finish my degree. Maybe get into design. Or marketing. I like… helping people find things that make them feel like themselves.”
“That’s very… poetic,” Aunt Margaret said. “But not terribly lucrative.”
“Margaret,” Elise chided mildly.
Tessa forced a smile. “Lucrative is relative. I just want to be able to support myself and my family without… too many panic attacks.”
Abby snorted into her orange juice. “Mood.”
“You have family here?” Julia asked. “Besides us now, I mean.”
“My mom,” Tessa said. “Just the two of us.”
“And what does she do?” Julia pressed.
“She’s… currently between jobs,” Tessa said carefully. “She was a home health aide before she got sick.”
Julia’s face softened. “Sick?”
“Cancer,” Tessa said simply. “She’s in remission now. We’re… very grateful.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Elise said quietly. “Thomas had a scare last year. I know how that… hangs over you.”
Thomas nodded, jaw tightening. “We’re fortunate.”
“Very,” Tessa said, thinking of the difference between hospital wings uptown and downtown.
“And your father?” Aunt Margaret asked. “What does he do?”
Tessa’s stomach clenched. “Nothing I know of,” she said. “He hasn’t been… in the picture since I was six.”
A hush fell. It wasn’t the poor-kid hush she dreaded. It was something else—an uncomfortable awareness of their privilege, maybe.
“I see,” Aunt Margaret said, apparently undeterred. “And wedding plans? You’ve set a date?”
Caleb stepped in smoothly. “Not yet,” he said. “We’re thinking of a long engagement. We both have a lot going on with work.”
“A long engagement,” Elise repeated. “How long is ‘long’?”
“A year, maybe,” Caleb said. “We don’t want to rush.”
“Mm,” Elise said, unconvinced. “Sometimes people hide behind ‘not rushing’ to avoid making decisions.”
Caleb’s shoulders stiffened.
“We’re not hiding,” Tessa said quietly. “We’re… adjusting. To each other. To… this.” She gestured vaguely at the house, the ring, the brunch.
Elise looked at her, something like appreciation flickering. “Honest,” she said. “I like that.”
Abby leaned in, eyes sparkling. “How did he propose? Did he do anything stupid? Please tell me there was a flash mob. Or a mariachi band.”
Tessa laughed, grateful for the levity. “He tried to be smooth,” she said. “He took me to Belle Isle at sunset. Brought a picnic. Fancy cheese. Actual cloth napkins.”
“Ooh,” Abby said. “Fancy napkins. That *is* serious.”
“He got down on one knee…” Tessa said. “And tripped over the blanket.”
The table chuckled. Caleb covered his face briefly. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” Tessa said. “You nearly face-planted into the hummus.”
“Romantic,” Abby said, delighted.
“And I said yes before he could change his mind,” Tessa finished. “Mostly to preserve the hummus.”
Elise smiled into her tea.
“And what did you feel?” Julia asked suddenly. “In that moment?”
Tessa blinked. “Excuse me?”
“When he asked,” Julia said. “What did you feel? Beyond hummus-protection instincts.”
That, Tessa thought, was a loaded question. And not the kind that could be answered with their neat little backstory.
She looked at Caleb. At the way his thumb gently traced circles on the inside of her wrist under the table, a tiny motion only she could feel.
“Safe,” she said softly. “I felt… safe. Like someone was… choosing me. Not because I fit a list, but because I was… me.”
Silence pressed in for a heartbeat.
Julia’s eyes shimmered. Elise’s mouth softened.
“Then,” Elise said quietly, “he did something right.”
Tessa swallowed. It felt dangerously like truth.
***
After brunch, after a tour of the rose garden (“This is where your engagement photos will be,” Julia said, and oh God, they hadn’t even thought about engagement photos), after Abby extracted Tessa’s number with gleeful threats of group chats, Elise called Caleb into her office.
“Come,” she said to Tessa, surprisingly. “You might as well be there.”
Tessa’s heart lurched. The inner sanctum.
Elise’s office was lined with bookshelves and family photographs. A large desk sat by the window, stacks of neatly arranged papers on one side, a crystal decanter and glasses on the other.
“Sit,” Elise said, indicating two chairs.
They did.
Elise perched on the edge of her desk, hands clasped in front of her. She studied them in silence for a moment, gaze sharp.
Caleb sat straighter, braced for a lecture.
“You’re suspiciously quiet,” Elise said to him. “For a boy who used to argue about bedtime like it was a Supreme Court case.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m not a boy anymore.”
“No,” she said. “You’re not. You’re a man who thinks he can outmaneuver his family.”
Tessa’s pulse jumped. Had they been caught already?
“I’m not trying to outmaneuver anyone,” Caleb said evenly. “I just… prefer to make my own choices.”
Elise’s gaze slid to Tessa. “And you chose her.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Why?” Elise asked.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at Tessa.
“Because she…” He exhaled. “She makes me feel like a person, not a… project.”
Tessa’s breath caught.
“And,” he went on, voice gaining strength, “because she doesn’t let people treat her—or anyone—like they’re less than. She called out a manager in one of our stores for harassing his staff. She didn’t know who I was. She did it anyway.”
Elise’s brows lifted. “Harassing?”
Tessa shifted, suddenly aware that she might have just become Exhibit A in a corporate case.
“It’s… not just me,” she said quietly. “He’s… gotten away with a lot. For a long time.”
“And you reported him?” Elise asked in that deceptively mild tone.
“To me,” Caleb said. “I’m…looking into it.”
“Hm.” Elise pursed her lips. “That would explain the spike in complaints from that store in the last quarter.”
She moved to a shelf, pulled down a thin folder, and flipped through it. “Denby,” she read. “We’ve had him for… eight years. Longer than we should have, it seems.”
“I’m gathering more information,” Caleb said. “I don’t want it to look like we’re firing him for… personal reasons.”
“Always the careful one,” Elise said. “Fine. Do it properly. But do it. I won’t have predators in my properties.”
Heat flared in Tessa’s chest. “Thank you,” she blurted.
Elise waved a hand. “Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum of decency,” she said. “Thank yourself for speaking up.”
Tessa swallowed. “A lot of people don’t.”
“A lot of people can’t afford to,” Elise said. “That’s why those of us who can, must.”
She set the folder aside and turned back to them.
“Now,” she said. “About this engagement.”
Tessa’s spine went ramrod straight.
Elise’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “You’re very… convincing.”
“Thank you,” Caleb said cautiously.
“That wasn’t entirely a compliment,” Elise said. “I’ve seen you lie before, Caleb.”
His jaw clenched.
“I remember when you told me you’d quit smoking in college and I found the pack in your jacket,” she said. “You looked me in the eye and told me you ‘just held it for a friend.’”
Tessa smothered a snort.
Caleb winced. “I was nineteen.”
“My point,” Elise said, “is that I know your tells.”
She looked between them. Tessa’s blood ran cold.
“And right now…” Elise continued slowly, “I don’t see them.”
Silence hummed.
“That doesn’t mean I’m blind,” she went on. “It just means… if this is a performance, it’s a very good one.”
Tessa’s palms sweat.
“We’re not lying to you,” Caleb said quietly.
Elise studied him. “Are you lying to yourself?”
He flinched.
Tessa couldn’t breathe.
Elise sighed, the sound surprisingly tired.
“I don’t care where she went to school,” she said, nodding at Tessa. “I don’t care who her parents are. I care that you’re not doing this as a stunt. Or to spite me. Or to score some kind of point about independence.”
“I’m not,” Caleb said. “I—”
“And I care,” Elise said, cutting him off, “that she knows what she’s getting into.”
Her gaze pinned Tessa. “Do you?”
“I…” Tessa’s voice faltered. She glanced at Caleb, at the ring on his finger, matching the weight on her own. At the stack of rules in her mind.
She thought of his world—the money, the power, the scrutiny.
“I know enough,” she said slowly. “To understand that this is… big. That it’s going to be… complicated.”
“Understatement of the year,” Elise murmured.
“But I also know,” Tessa went on, surprising herself, “that he’s… worth complicating things for.”
Caleb’s head snapped toward her. His eyes burned.
She swallowed. “And I’m… not in this for your money,” she added. “Or your name. I’m… just trying to make my life less awful. For a little while.”
It wasn’t the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie, either.
Elise’s mouth twitched. “Honest,” she said again. “I do like you.”
Tessa exhaled slowly.
“So here’s my condition,” Elise said. “If either of you decides this isn’t what you want… you tell me. You don’t hide it. You don’t drag it out for the sake of appearances. You come to me, and we handle it like adults. Agreed?”
Tessa and Caleb exchanged a glance.
“Agreed,” they said in unison.
“Good,” Elise said. “Then I’ll save my meddling for the seating chart.”
A small, incredulous laugh escaped Tessa. Caleb let out a breath he’d probably been holding since they walked in.
As they left the office, a new thread had been woven into their complicated web—not just their own rules, but Elise’s.
If you want out, tell me.
It was both a safety net and a noose.
On the drive back to her apartment, the silence hummed with all the things they hadn’t said in front of Elise.
Finally, halfway across town, Tessa spoke.
“Your grandmother is terrifying,” she said.
Caleb laughed, tension breaking. “She likes you.”
“That’s her *liking* me?” Tessa demanded. “Was she hazing you when you joined the family, too?”
“She interviewed my high school girlfriend for forty-five minutes about her SAT scores,” he admitted.
Tessa winced. “Ouch.”
“You did better,” he said. “You made her laugh.”
“That was an accident,” she said. “I was genuinely confused by the number of forks.”
He smiled, then sobered.
“What you said,” he began. “In there. About… me making you feel… safe.”
She stared out the window, cheeks warming. “It was… part of the story.”
“Part of it,” he said quietly.
She swallowed. “I didn’t… lie.”
He exhaled, a sound that was almost a shiver.
“I didn’t either,” he said.
Her heart pounded. “Caleb…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly. “I just… wanted you to know.”
Know what? That he was starting to blur the lines? That the fake was kissing up against something real at the edges?
Rule number four pulsed in her head. No falling in love.
She could feel the edge of a precipice under her toes.
“We should be careful,” she said quietly. “With… words like that. Like… safe.”
He nodded, jaw tight. “You’re right.”
“Because this is… three months,” she said. “Temporary.”
“Temporary,” he echoed.
“And then we… walk away,” she said. The thought made her chest ache unexpectedly.
“Yes,” he said, voice rough. “We walk away.”
They pulled up in front of her building. The ring on her finger felt like it had doubled in weight.
He cut the engine. Neither of them moved.
“Partners,” he said after a moment. “Right?”
She looked at him. At the band on his finger. At the quiet war in his eyes.
“Partners,” she agreed.
“And we stick to the rules,” he added, as if reminding himself. “No sex. No kissing when nobody’s watching. No sharing a bed. No… feelings.”
Her chest squeezed. “Right.”
He swallowed. “So I should definitely not… walk you up and… do something stupid in your hallway.”
Heat flushed through her. “Definitely not.”
He nodded once. “Okay.”
They sat there anyway, in charged silence.
Finally, she fumbled for the door handle. “Thank you,” she said. “For…all of it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Get some rest.”
She opened the door. Cold air rushed in. She stepped out, then leaned back in, one hand on the car roof.
“Caleb?”
“Yeah?” he said, looking up at her.
“One more rule,” she said.
He huffed a faint laugh. “You and your rules.”
“No telling each other ‘I miss you,’” she said. “Even as a joke. Even for show. It’s… too real.”
Something flickered across his face. “Okay,” he said softly. “No ‘I miss you.’”
She nodded. “Goodnight, Caleb.”
“Goodnight, Tessa,” he said.
She shut the door and walked up the steps, feeling his gaze on her back the whole way.
Inside, leaning against her closed apartment door, she stared at the ring on her finger.
Three months, she thought.
Three months of pretending.
Her phone buzzed.
> Caleb: You did great today. My grandmother is already planning holidays with you in mind.
Her heart flipped.
> Tessa: tell her not to buy me any forks. I can’t handle the pressure.
> Caleb: No forks. Understood.
A beat.
> Caleb: Sleep well, partner.
She bit her lip, then replied.
> Tessa: you too.
She put the phone down, turned off the light, and lay in the dark, the ring a foreign weight on her hand.
No sex.
No kissing when nobody’s watching.
No sharing a bed.
No falling in love.
No “I miss you.”
Her rules were clear.
They were also, she realized with a shiver of both fear and excitement, already starting to feel less like a safety net…
…and more like a gauntlet.
***
*To be continued…*