I accidentally told my parents that the wealthy stranger who drove me to their house from the airport is my boyfriend. Oops. My life was literally falling apart on the terminal floor. Crushed goldfish crackers. A screaming five-year-old. And a broken suitcase that was a metaphor for my entire existence. Then there was Ethan Caldwell. He is everything I'm not. Rich. Organized. And devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit. He should have walked away from the mess. Instead, he helped me up. So when my judgmental parents arrived to inspect my "failure" of a life, I panicked. I grabbed Ethan's arm. I told them we were in love. I expected him to run. He didn't. He pulled me close, charmed my mother, and drove us home. Now I'm living in his massive, silent house because my childhood bedroom is now a craft store. We have a deal. I pretend to be his girlfriend to survive the family reunion. He gets a break from the silence of his grief. But he's taking the role too seriously. He's fixing my daughter's toys. He's defending my art. He's looking at me like I'm the only woman in the room.