Huh.

Not needed.

"I could do with less of your attitude, Daisy," I mutter as the elevator finally reaches the lobby. I've never noticed before how many words could be crammed into that descent.

"We all have our crosses to bear, Kyle. The point is, I was only trying to locate you in order to notify you. I don't need anything. I'm quite capable, all on my own."

"I know. You thought you'd notify me and bounce. Because it's the polite thing to do," I remind her of what she said yesterday when she so articulately explained her reasons for crashing the party posing as my fiancée.

"That is correct," she agrees, her chin tilted up in defiance.

I stare at her for a moment, wondering what this would be like if it weren't so complicated. This situation. Me. Us.

We exit my building onto Walnut and I guide Daisy with a hand on her lower back toward 19th. It's a two-block walk, 19th over to Samson Street to my regular Sunday brunch spot. The Dandelion is a British pub tucked into an old brick building in the heart of downtown Philadelphia. It's got the requisite bar inside, a big vintage piece complete with a wall covered with liquor bottles behind. But the rest of the place is filled with scratched-up wooden tables and mismatched chairs. Aged photos of English hunting dogs haphazardly hung over red leather banquet seats tucked into corners.

It's comfortable, and Gigi loves it. She's already here, along with Kerrigan, seated at a brightly lit table complete with a window seat framed by heavy floral drapes.

The moment Daisy spots Kerrigan she freezes, her steps faltering. I may have forgotten to mention we weren't dining alone. Or neglected to mention it. Semantics.

"That's my grandmother with Kerrigan. My mother's mother," I murmur into her ear as I grasp her hand and tug her in their direction.

"You can't be serious." She tugs back on her hand but I've got a firm hold and I'm not letting go.

"I'm definitely serious," I tell her as Gigi and Kerrigan notice our arrival and then everyone is standing and hugging.

"Kerrigan mentioned you had news," my grandmother enthuses while grasping Daisy in a tight hug. "I'm so thrilled for you, Kyle!" She steps back allowing Daisy to breathe. "Aren't you lovely? No wonder Kyle is so taken with you."

Daisy blinks rapidly like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. Blink, blink. A glance to me then back at my grandmother. Blink, blink.

"You'll call me Gigi," my grandmother tells her without missing a beat. "It's what Kyle and Kerrigan call me." Daisy nods, and repeats the name back to her, then exhales and glances at me again.

"Let's sit," I suggest before Daisy decides to bolt. I take a quick glance at her to make sure she's okay, because she looks a little pale. I'm not sure if it's due to nerves or morning sickness, suddenly remembering how quickly she went from fine to vomiting last night. She sits in the window seat and I slide in next to her, Gigi and Kerrigan taking the chairs across from us.

There's a brief moment of silence as we sit, followed by an interruption from the waitress offering coffee. Daisy declines and looks as if she's doing her best to disappear behind the menu.

Apparently she's only good at faking it when she's in charge.

Unfortunately for her, that time has passed.

"Sweetheart." I wrap an arm around her, caressing her upper arm in what is sure to look like a loving embrace. "Look, they have your favorite, eggs Benedict." I have no idea if she likes eggs Benedict or not, but neither does my family and appearing to know about each other is a nice touch to a fake engagement.

She huffs, in that way she does that could be an exhale but I know means she's irritated. Then she places her hand on my thigh and turns her head slightly in my direction. Her lips curve and her eyes sparkle. But I can see the challenge behind her gaze.

"But they also have my other favorite, French toast. With fancy vanilla whipped cream." She leans in, just a bit closer, playing her part and adding, "Darling," after a slight pause.

Then she repeats the loving caress I gave her arm. On my thigh. Her warm hand runs a pattern of circles closer and closer to my dick, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip as she winks at me. I remove her hand from my leg before I get a fucking hard-on in front of my sister and grandmother, bringing it to my lips and kissing the back. Then I keep it firmly tucked in mine so she can't do any more damage.

"So, when is the wedding? Are you planning yet or enjoying the engagement period for a bit?" Gigi beams at us from across the table. She's positively lit up at the prospect of my impending nuptials. I haven't seen her this happy in years, it's as if seeing me happy lifts some weight for her. Fake happy, I remind myself. But the result is the same, isn't it? For Gigi, and for Kerrigan. For everyone.

"Next week," I reply without missing a beat.

Daisy chokes. I pat her on the back and slide a glass of water in her direction.

Gigi's mouth drops, then she clasps her hands together and laughs. "Oh, a whirlwind romance! A love match! Just like your parents."

My parents had some kind of whirlwind summer romance as the story goes, but I wasn't born seven months after their wedding, so I don't think their whirlwind romance was quite the same as this one.

"Daisy can't bear for us to be apart any longer. Isn't that right, sweets? What with the long distance."

"Well, that explains why you haven't brought her around before." Gigi beams. "Where do you live, Daisy?"

"Suburban Chicago. Naperville."

"Cute place," I add, like I have a fucking clue.

Daisy somehow manages to continue smiling at my grandmother while also side-eyeing the hell out of me. She also kicks me under the table.

"So how did the two of you meet then?" Gigi wants to know as Kerrigan chimes in with "Oh, yes, tell us!"

"We met in Boston," Daisy begins.

"I offered her a ride to Fenway," I jump in. "Which she declined after insinuating I might be a serial killer. But she let me walk with her." I smile, remembering. An honest-to-God smile, not a fake one. She surprised me when she declined. It's not as if I have a habit of offering women I don't know rides, but she was so feisty in her response. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses that she pushed up onto her head to meet my eyes while she spoke. Her eyes were blue, her lips pulled into a smile even as she sassed me.

"You can never be too careful, ladies, you know how it is," Daisy says. "You can't just hop in a car with a stranger even if the very sight of him makes your stomach plummet to your toes and abandon all logic. Even if he's got the cutest dimple you've ever seen when he smirks." Daisy stops abruptly, suddenly intent on examining her water glass.

There's a slight pause while Gigi and Kerrigan stare at Daisy with hearts in their eyes and Daisy stares at the tabletop like she's said too much.

"Haha," Kerrigan finally says. "Like that would ever happen. Kyle has a driver follow me around. I'm not even allowed to take an Uber." My sister scowls at me, my overprotectiveness an ongoing issue between us.

"You could live with me if you'd prefer," I tell her. "I could have the driver deliver you to class each day instead of escorting you when you need to leave campus." The problem with raising a teenager when you can still recall being one yourself is that you remember, vividly, how fucking awful and stupid teenagers can be. Add to the equation her net worth making her a potential target and she's lucky her security team is as small and discreet as it is.