Lahat ng Kabanata ng From Best Friend To Fiancé : Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

The smell of carne asada and roasted peppers clung to the brown paper bag in my hand, the grease staining through no matter how tightly I held it. Mexican food—my favorite cuisine. Comfort. Warmth. Something to disguise the heaviness in my chest after leaving the gynaecologist’s office. Her words still beat against my skull like a gavel: hard to conceive… years on the pill… might not be easy.My fingers tightened on the bag as if squeezing it could silence the ache inside me. I still walked down the marble-lined hall to his office, balancing tacos and tamales like a peace offering. Maybe if I brought him something warm, I’d feel warm, too.I paused, smoothed my blouse and my hair. Then I tried to school my face into something that wasn’t gloomy, then pushed the door open.Roman’s office was all sharp edges and glass, sunlight spilling over polished wood that have recently become familiar to my back. And there he was, commanding the center of the room behind his desk, headset on, voice

The more time I spent around Penny, the less I liked her.Scratch that. The more I watched her around Roman, the more I wanted to claw her ocean eyes out.Maybe it was my low self-esteem. Maybe it was my possessive streak. Or maybe it was the simple fact that she acted like I didn’t exist whenever Roman was in the room.I couldn’t tell anymore. All I knew was that my stomach soured every time she laughed too loud, leaned too close, or touched what didn’t belong to her.And right now? She was perched on the edge of Roman’s desk—the same spot I used to claim as mine, the place where I’d sit while he whispered the sweetest, filthiest words into my ear—and she was feeding him like a doting little housewife.He wasn’t even encouraging her, not really. He wasn’t a big eater on the best of days, but she was hellbent on stuffing him like a Thanksgiving turkey. “Come on, you have to taste this.” Penny’s voice was sugary enough to rot teeth. She shoved a container toward him with manic determi

“Cancer?”The word echoed like a stone dropped into a deep well. My chest squeezed, my ears rang. This couldn’t be real. It didn’t sound real. It didn’t even sound like English. It was like Dean had spoken in another language, one my brain refused to translate despite being fluent in it. I felt as if I’d been dunked underwater. Everything slowed, muffled, blurred. His lips were moving, but all I could hear was that one word bouncing around my skull. Cancer.No.Not her.Not my mother.“She can’t—” My throat closed. I shook my head violently, as though shaking could undo his words. “No. You’re wrong. That’s not—”Dean’s eyes dropped. The heaviness in his face was worse than his words. “Unfortunately, yes.” His voice cracked with something I didn’t want to name. “When the news about Chloe’s abandoned car came out, she collapsed. They rushed her to the hospital. That’s when they found out. Leukaemia.”Leukaemia.The sound of it made me nauseous. My stomach knotted until I thought I’d be

RomanThere’s something seriously wrong with this guy.I don’t care what mask he tries to wear, what polite act he now puts on, what harmless little smiles he casually throws in Savannah’s direction — I can see it. Smell it. Feel it.He’s hiding something. I mean, of course he is. Any man who agrees to a grand scheme of staging a wedding is not to be trusted. And anyone who avoids eye contact as much as he does is already guilty of something. Doesn’t matter what. My gut never lies.Dean. Fucking Dean.He’s leaning against his car in my courtyard like some kind of half-baked gentleman, waiting for Savannah to be done with her goodbyes so he can cart her off. His eyes have barely lifted to mine since he arrived, but I’ve felt them grazing my skin in quick, cowardly flickers. The kind of look a man gives when he knows he’s already lost.And he has. Because she’s with me now.Savannah’s clinging to me like I’m oxygen, and I bury my face into her hair, inhaling her scent like a man starv

“I swear to God, Dean, I will pepper spray your creepy ass to death if you try anything funny.”The words tore out of me before I could stop them, sharp as the can of spray digging into the palm of my hand inside my bag. My knuckles ached from clutching it too tight.He jerked his head toward me, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and offense. “Pepper spray?” His laugh was humorless. “Are you fucking serious right now? You don’t trust me?”I leveled him with a glare, refusing to show fear. “Try me and you’ll find out.”His jaw slackened for a moment, then snapped shut. He shook his head slowly, like I’d just said the most incomprehensible thing in the world. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe we’re at this point.”“Well, you’d better start believing it,” I snapped back.The car felt too small, too hot. Every breath of his air seemed to clog my lungs. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking beneath his palms, but his eyes flicked toward me, desperate, alm