4.
1368 Words
Chapter 4
Lucy’s POV
The morning after our “not-a-date,” I wake up earlier than usual, sunlight streaming through the blinds. My apartment feels quiet—too quiet. Normally, I’d start my day with a cup of coffee and try to dive into some design sketches. Today, though, my mind is all over the place.
Why does my brain keep replaying Glenn’s laugh or the way his eyes softened when he spoke about his past?
I shake my head. “Stop it, Lucy,” I mutter to myself, dragging my blanket off and heading to the kitchen. This is a business arrangement, not a rom-com.
As I’m halfway through my coffee, my phone buzzes on the counter. It’s a text from Maggie.
Maggie: Tell me everything. How was the date?
I groan. She’s relentless.
Me: It wasn’t a date. It was…fine.
Her reply comes in seconds.
Maggie: Fine? Spill. Details. Now.
Before I can come up with a reply that satisfies her curiosity without inviting more interrogation, there’s a knock at my door. My heart skips a beat, but I remind myself it could be anyone—mail, a neighbor, anything.
Still, as I open the door and see Glenn standing there, my stomach does a little flip.
“Morning,” he says, holding two cups of coffee in a carrier. He’s dressed casually in a navy hoodie and jeans, looking impossibly relaxed. “Thought you might need this.”
I blink at him. “What…why are you here?”
“Good morning to you, too,” he says, smirking. “Can I come in, or are you planning to interrogate me in the hallway?”
“Depends. Do I have a choice?” I ask, stepping aside to let him in.
“Not really,” he says, brushing past me and setting the coffee on the counter.
I close the door and cross my arms. “Okay, spill. Why are you really here?”
“We need to plan our next move,” he says, leaning against the counter. “You think Kelvin’s just going to give up because of one dinner?”
I groan, rubbing my temples. “Right. I almost forgot about him.”
Glenn raises an eyebrow. “Almost?”
“Don’t get cocky,” I say, grabbing one of the coffee cups. “So, what’s the plan, oh wise one?”
“Well,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee, “we need to make this engagement look real. That means public appearances, more dinners, maybe even a couple of photos for social media.”
“Social media?” I choke on my coffee.
He shrugs. “It’s 2024, Lucy. If there’s no proof online, it didn’t happen.”
I sigh, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs. “This is starting to feel like a full-time job.”
“You’re the one who dragged me into this,” he reminds me, a teasing edge to his voice.
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter.
He laughs, and for a moment, the tension eases.
Later that afternoon, Glenn and I find ourselves walking through the city, his plan to “accidentally” run into Kelvin in full swing.
“Explain to me again why we’re doing this?” I ask, glancing at him as we stroll past boutique shops and cafes.
“Because,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets, “Kelvin needs to see that you’ve moved on. And what better way to do that than by bumping into him while you’re out with your fiancé?”
I roll my eyes but don’t argue.
As we turn the corner, my stomach drops. Kelvin is sitting outside a cafe, his assistant—her—sitting across from him.
“Great,” I mutter, stopping in my tracks.
“Relax,” Glenn says, his voice low. He reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. The gesture is so sudden, so natural, that I almost forget to breathe.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, my cheeks burning.
“Selling the act,” he whispers, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Lucy. We’ve got this.”
Before I can protest, he leads me toward the cafe. Kelvin looks up just as we’re passing, his eyes narrowing when he sees us.
“Lucy?” he says, his voice laced with disbelief.
I force a smile, even as my pulse pounds in my ears. “Kelvin. What a surprise.”
He stands, his gaze shifting between me and Glenn. “What are you doing here?”
“Just enjoying the day with my fiancé,” I say, the word feeling strange and foreign on my tongue.
Glenn smiles, extending his free hand. “Glenn Carter. Nice to meet you.”
Kelvin hesitates before shaking his hand, his jaw tight. “Kelvin Hart. Lucy’s…friend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I correct, my voice sharper than I intended.
Kelvin’s assistant clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I think I’ll head inside to grab our drinks,” she says, excusing herself.
As she walks away, Glenn steps closer to me, his hand resting on the small of my back. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down my spine.
“Well,” Glenn says, his tone polite but firm, “it was nice running into you, but we should get going. We’ve got a lot of wedding planning to do.”
Kelvin’s eyes narrow. “Wedding?”
“Didn’t Lucy tell you?” Glenn says, his smile widening. “We’re getting married in a few months.”
My heart skips a beat. A few months?
Kelvin looks at me, his expression unreadable. “Congratulations,” he says, though his tone lacks any real warmth.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me.
Glenn nods at Kelvin, then gently steers me away. As soon as we’re out of earshot, I pull my hand free and turn to him.
“A few months?” I whisper, glaring at him.
He shrugs, unbothered. “It sounded believable.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, but there’s no real anger behind my words.
That evening, as I sit on my couch replaying the encounter in my mind, my phone buzzes with a text from Kelvin.
Kelvin: Can we talk?
My chest tightens, a mix of anger and uncertainty bubbling to the surface. Before I can respond, another text comes through—this time from Glenn.
Glenn: Remember, if Kelvin reaches out, don’t fall for it. Stay strong.
I stare at the messages, torn between the two. But as much as I hate to admit it, Glenn is right. I can’t let Kelvin manipulate me again.
With a deep breath, I delete Kelvin’s message and set my phone aside.
The next day, Glenn calls me unexpectedly.
“Get dressed,” he says. “I’m picking you up in an hour.”
“What? Why?” I ask, confused.
“You’ll see,” he says, then hangs up before I can argue.
When he arrives, he’s wearing that same easy grin that makes me both annoyed and intrigued.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I climb into the car.
“You’ll see,” he says again, refusing to give me any details.
We drive for about twenty minutes before he pulls into a parking lot near the waterfront.
“A park?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Not just any park,” he says, stepping out of the car.
He leads me down a winding path until we reach a small, secluded area overlooking the water. A picnic blanket is spread out on the grass, complete with a basket of food and a bottle of wine.
“Did you do this?” I ask, surprised.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he says, smirking. “I’m not completely heartless.”
As we sit down, the tension between us eases, replaced by a quiet, almost comfortable silence.
“This is nice,” I admit after a while, taking a sip of wine.
“See? I’m full of surprises,” he says, his tone teasing.
- Writer
