Single And In Love With My Fake Boyfriend (Single Girls Club #1)

Chapter One

Callie

Tonight is the night that will change my life forever.

Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s actually happening. Me, Callie Richards, a twenty-two-year-old from a small town called Spring Falls, outside Atlanta, Georgia, will be engaged!

My cheeks haven’t stopped hurting since I got in my car ten minutes ago because I can’t stop smiling. Spencer asked me on a date last night to Spring Falls Gardens, the fanciest restaurant in our town. I didn’t think much about it—I just assumed it was a date like any other—but my friends were all “oohing” and “ahhing” because Spring Falls Gardens is known for being the place to pop the question. Which means Spencer Johnson will be asking me to be his wife tonight!

“Breathe, Callie,” I mutter under my breath as I slow down before the restaurant. After the valet takes my car, I just stand outside the building, my heart hammering in my head. He’s in there. He’s waiting for me. Is he nervous? He must be. Men get nervous about these things, right?

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and walk in. The place is so gorgeous. White tablecloths with beautiful, intricate designs, a candle in the center of every table, which makes the perfect setting for a proposal. All the silverware and dishes sparkle, and breathtaking chandeliers are suspended from the ceiling. The walls have stunning designs as well.

I never imagined I would ever dine in a place like this. It makes me feel very special that Spencer wants to make this night perfect for us.

The hostess escorts me to a table toward the back of the restaurant, where it’s more private. Every part of me lights up with warmth. Spencer knows how much I dislike crowds and being the center of attention. He’s so sweet for taking every step to make this moment a memory that will last me a lifetime.

As soon as Spencer sees me, a large smile takes over his face, and he stands up to hug me. I close my eyes for a moment as I bask in his embrace, waiting for the butterflies I read in my favorite romance novels to overwhelm me. But the butterflies don’t come. Honestly, they never have. Spencer is my first and only boyfriend, so I can’t compare him to anyone. I have no idea if one is supposed to feel butterflies or sparks or tingles, like they do in all those books. I mean, they’re fiction and fiction isn’t a depiction of real life. In real life, things aren’t always bunnies and rainbows. Of course, I dreamed since I was a teenager to feel all those amazing things the characters in my books did, but with Spencer…not even a tiny spark.

But that’s not what’s important, right? Spencer is a good, kind man. I know he’ll be a wonderful husband and father one day. We’ve only been dating for eight months, which is why I didn’t believe at first that he’s going to propose. But we’re good together and it makes sense. Spencer isn’t the kind of guy to stretch things. He’s the kind to get things done.

“Please sit, Callie,” he says as he lowers himself on his chair. “I already ordered us drinks.”

“Thanks.” I sit down on my chair and squeeze my hands between my knees, my heart once again pounding. Spencer does seem a bit nervous, but not as much as I thought he’d be. Hmm, maybe guys don’t get nervous about these things after all?

The truth is, it’s hard to believe I’m actually in this situation. When I was in high school, I thought I would never have a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé. I wasn’t exactly popular and guys barely looked my way. College wasn’t any better, which is why I focused most of my time on my studies. But then I met Spencer eight months ago. It was at the bookstore, one of my most favorite places in this small town. I was holding far too many books because, let’s face it, one can never have too many books, and I was struggling to carry them to the counter. The next thing I knew, a guy with dark brown hair and brown eyes hurried to my side and relieved me of some of my books. He had a kind smile and sincere eyes, and yeah, he was a huge help. And somehow, I ended up giving him my number. I didn’t expect him to actually call me, but he did. And the rest is history.

“Sorry I’m late,” I tell Spencer. “Becca wanted me to rewrite my article. Again.”

I’m a journalist for The Spring Falls Press , our local newspaper. I’ve only had the job for a few months, but Becca seems to be hard on me for some reason. My coworker, Julia, swears it’s because she sees I have a lot of potential, but I don’t think so.

“It’s okay,” Spencer says, flashing that smile. “All good. I didn’t wait long. Ready to order?”

As if I’ll be able to get anything down! But I want this night to be special for us, so I say, “I’m starving.”

He calls for a server and we give him our orders. Then Spencer glances down at the tablecloth and taps his finger on the table. Wait, does that mean he is nervous? It’s kind of cute.

“How was work?” I ask him.

He glances up, giving me that pleasant smile again. “Was good.”

Spencer works in finance and loves it. And I love hearing him talk about work. I like that he shares that part of his life with me. He doesn’t particularly seem interested in my job, but that’s all right. We don’t have to enjoy everything about each other. His support is enough.

The food arrives and we dig in. Everything is delicious and I try to enjoy it, but it’s hard because I’m so anxious and excited.

He hardly looks my way, but when our eyes meet, he smiles again. This brings me back to when we first met and were so nervous around each other.

“It’s good,” I say, grasping at something—anything—to discuss because I don’t like this awkward silence. I want to shake the question out of him, say, “Yes!” and then resume being normal around each other.

“Yeah, very good,” he says with a nod.

“Best food I’ve ever had,” I say, playing with my blonde hair. It’s a complete lie, though. My best friend Alexandra Young—Alex—is a chef and cooks the most delicious food I’ve eaten in my life.

He just nods, picking at his food. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he’s okay, but I don’t want to ruin tonight. He’ll pop the question and then everything will be okay. I just need to be patient, no matter how difficult it is.

A few minutes later, after we’ve both worked our way through our food, he lowers his fork. “Callie, we’ve been going out for eight months now. And it’s been great. Fun.”

I nod, trying to hide my smile. My stomach twists, nearly swallowing itself up.

“You’re a great girl,” he goes on. “Smart, funny, beautiful.” He smiles that pleasant smile again.

I tell myself to bask in this moment because it’s perfect and amazing and special.

“But I think it’s best we end it.”

My mouth falls open. “What?”

He bends forward to take my hand, but I yank it away, dropping it on my lap.

“It’s just not working out,” he continues. “I don’t feel…I’m not excited to see you. I don’t feel like…”

“You don’t love me,” I whisper.

He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. But he doesn’t utter a word.

“Did you ever love me?” I ask.

He drops his hand, displaying guilty brown eyes. “I thought I did. At the beginning. But the past few months have been off. I don’t know what it is. When I wake up in the morning, you’re not the first thing on my mind. Or when I go to sleep. I don’t look forward to seeing you. I’ve…I’ve been making excuses to cancel our dates.”

I sit forward as my heart tumbles to my toes. “All those times you told me you had to work late…those were excuses?”

He nods. “I’m sorry.”

I sit back in my seat, tears burning my eyes. But I won’t release them. I won’t cry in front of him.

“I thought you were going to propose,” I find myself saying.

His face changes from guilty to confused. “Propose?”

I wave my hands around. “Why else would you take me out to this fancy restaurant? Why were you so nervous all night?”

He looks away. “I felt bad about dumping you, so I figured I’d make it up to you with a good meal.”

I bullet to my feet and chuck my napkin on the table. “You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”

“Callie, you’re making a scene…”

I glance around at all the diners eating and chatting. Not a single person is looking our way. “No one is paying attention to us. You’re not the center of the world, Spencer Johnson. And now I see that I’m not the center of your world. Sorry for wasting your time ,” I say sarcastically.

Grabbing my purse, I whirl around and make my way toward the door. A part of me hopes he’ll chase after me, apologize and beg me to give him another chance. The fact that he doesn’t confirms that he truly doesn’t love me. He never did.

Why was I so blind all this time? Why didn’t I realize he was pulling away from me?

Was I so desperate for love that I lived in my own warped version of reality? That makes me the most pathetic person in the w—

“Oof!”

I knock into something as hard as stone and go flying backward. But before my body can make contact with the floor, strong, warm hands grip my shoulders and lift me a few inches off the ground. Then I’m gently deposited on my feet.

A body stands before me, clearly male. I slowly lift my eyes upward, until I come face to face with dark blue eyes. They’re such a pretty shade, like sapphires. And they look…familiar?

“Careful there,” the guy says in a light, friendly tone.

My eyes take in the rest of him. His short light brown hair, strong jaw, and built-up body. This guy is ripped . But I already know that. Because the guy standing before me? He’s none other than Lincoln Walker.

Most people know him because he’s the famous quarterback for the Atlanta Armadillos. But I know Lincoln from somewhere else. He and I went to high school together. He lives in Atlanta now.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking carefully at my face to assess for damage. His brows come together. “Wait—do I know you?”

My heart squeezes together. Of course someone like Lincoln Walker wouldn’t remember me. He didn’t know I existed at Spring Falls High School. I was just an average bookworm who had a crush on the popular quarterback. But then again, almost every girl at my school did.

“Sorry, no,” I mutter as I step around him. With the wonderful night I’m having so far, the last thing I need is to feel even more crappy about myself because after four years, the gorgeous Atlanta Armadillos quarterback still doesn’t know I have a presence on the planet.

In my car, I place my hands on the steering wheel and stare out the windshield. Then my eyes trek down to the pretty black dress I wore for the occasion. Does Spencer have any idea how much this cost? I thought tonight would change my life forever, but it seems the universe has decided to screw me over.

My heart wants me to cry, to just let everything out. But I won’t do it. I won’t cry over Spencer. Or the fact that my dream of falling in love may never come true.