The Proposal that Changed Everything

3.

Chapter 3

Lucy’s POV

The next morning, my phone buzzes incessantly on the bedside table, dragging me out of a restless sleep. Squinting, I grab it and see a message from Glenn.

Glenn: Hope you’re ready to make things more convincing. Dinner at 7. I’ll pick you up.

I stare at the message, my heart sinking. Dinner? What exactly does he mean by “more convincing”? With a groan, I toss the phone aside and bury my face in the pillow.

By the time evening rolls around, I’ve run out of excuses not to go. Maggie had already called earlier to berate me into dressing up.

“You have to commit,” she said. “Otherwise, Kelvin will know you’re bluffing. Plus, if Glenn’s going out of his way to help you, you owe him.”

I grudgingly agreed, though the idea of having dinner with Glenn feels like stepping into uncharted territory.

At 6:55 p.m., I’m standing in front of my mirror in a simple navy-blue dress, my hair pulled into loose waves. A soft knock at my door startles me, and when I open it, Glenn is standing there, looking annoyingly handsome in a charcoal-gray blazer and dark slacks.

“Right on time,” he says, flashing his trademark grin. “I like that.”

“You didn’t really give me a choice,” I mutter, grabbing my bag.

Glenn looks me over and raises an eyebrow. “Not bad, Lucy. You almost look like you enjoy my company.”

“Don’t push it,” I reply, stepping past him.

As we head to his car—a sleek black convertible parked on the curb—I can feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“You nervous?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“No,” I lie.

He smirks but doesn’t push the subject.

The restaurant he takes me to is fancier than I expected. The dim lighting, white tablecloths, and soft piano music make me feel completely out of place.

“Glenn, this is too much,” I whisper as the host leads us to a table near the window.

“Relax,” he says, pulling out my chair. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

I sit down, trying not to fidget as the waiter hands us menus. Glenn seems perfectly at ease, leaning back in his chair as he scans the wine list.

“So,” he says after a moment, setting the menu down. “Tell me something about yourself.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“You know, basic stuff. Hobbies, interests, embarrassing childhood stories—whatever you’ve got,” he says, his tone light.

I hesitate. “Why do you care?”

“Because,” he says, leaning forward, “if we’re pretending to be engaged, we need to know at least a little about each other. Otherwise, someone’s going to catch on.”

He has a point, though I hate admitting it.

“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start simple,” he says. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m an interior designer,” I say. “Well, I was. Business has been slow lately.”

Glenn nods thoughtfully. “Makes sense. You’ve got an eye for detail.”

I raise an eyebrow. “How would you know?”

“Your outfit,” he says, gesturing at my dress. “Simple but elegant. It suits you.”

I glance down at my dress, surprised by the compliment. “Thanks, I guess.”

“What about family?” he asks. “Siblings? Overbearing parents?”

“None of the above,” I say. “It’s just me. My parents passed away a few years ago.”

The playful glint in Glenn’s eyes softens. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, not wanting to dwell on the subject. “What about you? What’s your story?”

He hesitates, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

“I grew up in foster care,” he says finally. “Moved around a lot. No family to speak of, but I made it work.”

Something about the way he says it—calm, matter-of-fact—makes my chest tighten.

“That must have been hard,” I say softly.

He shrugs. “It wasn’t easy, but it taught me how to survive.”

For a moment, we sit in silence, the sounds of the restaurant fading into the background. It’s strange, seeing this side of Glenn. Beneath the confidence and charm, there’s a depth to him I didn’t expect.

“So,” he says, breaking the tension. “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

I laugh, grateful for the change in topic. “Nice try, but I’m not falling for that.”

“Come on,” he says, grinning. “You can’t leave me hanging.”

“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “When I was seven, I dressed up as a princess for Halloween. I tripped on my dress, fell into a mud puddle, and cried so hard my dad had to carry me home.”

Glenn bursts out laughing, and despite myself, I smile.

“Your turn,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Alright,” he says, leaning back. “When I was thirteen, I tried to impress a girl by riding a skateboard down a hill. I wiped out in front of her and broke my arm. Needless to say, she wasn’t impressed.”

I laugh, picturing a younger, awkward version of Glenn.

The conversation flows more easily after that, and by the time the waiter brings our food, I almost forget that this is supposed to be fake.

As we leave the restaurant, the chilly night air feels refreshing against my skin. Glenn walks beside me, his hands in his pockets.

“Not bad for a first date,” he says casually.

“It wasn’t a date,” I remind him.

“Sure it wasn’t,” he says, smirking.

I shake my head, unable to hide my smile.

When we reach his car, Glenn surprises me by opening the passenger door for me.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, huh?” I tease as I slide into the seat.

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, closing the door behind me.

Back at my apartment, I pause in the doorway, unsure how to say goodbye.

“Thanks for tonight,” I say awkwardly.

Glenn leans against the doorframe, his green eyes studying me. “You’re welcome.”

For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us feels charged, and I can’t tell if it’s the wine or something else entirely.

“Goodnight, Lucy,” he says finally, his voice soft.

“Goodnight,” I reply, stepping inside and closing the door.