Terminally Yours

“You. Blue jacket. Tall. Pretend to be my fiancé. Right now.”

The words shot from my mouth before I could stop them. I wasn’t even looking at the guy—just scanning for someone who looked remotely decent, harmless, and desperate enough to play along.

He blinked at me. “Excuse me?”

I turned to him fully, my heart punching holes in my ribcage. “Please. I need a favor. Just for five minutes.”

He looked like he’d stepped out of a GQ spread—tousled dark hair, white sneakers, silver watch, and the kind of eyebrows that made girls fail math tests.

“Are you in danger?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Kind of. Social danger. My mom’s about to show up with my real fiancé. And I… really don’t want them to see each other. Yet. Or maybe ever.”

He raised a brow. “You’re engaged, but you want me to pretend to be your fiancé.”

“Correct.”

“That’s insane.”

“Correct again.”

He paused. Then, weirdly, he smiled. “Alright. Let’s make this interesting.”

Rewind twelve hours. My name’s Ruby Martin. I’m twenty-one. I design jewelry on Etsy, drink far too much chai, and was supposed to be flying to New York with my mother and my very-safe-choice-of-a-fiancé, Ethan.

Ethan’s fine. Like, professionally fine. He works in finance, wears beige everything, and speaks like an investment brochure. Our parents arranged the whole thing. He treats me like a LinkedIn connection.

But this morning, I panicked. Big time. I knew if I got on that plane, I’d be marrying Ethan in three weeks. And I couldn’t do it.

So I did what any emotionally unstable girl with a backup savings account and a secret rebellion streak would do, I changed my flight. Booked a ticket to L.A. And ran.

Unfortunately, my mother found out. Even more unfortunately, she booked the same flight.

“You’re not escaping this, Ruby,” she’d texted. “Ethan is meeting us at the gate. I’ve explained everything to him.”

Cue: full-blown freak-out.

Cue: Hot Airport Stranger.

Back at Gate 42, I watched him transform.

“Name’s Drew,” he whispered, slinging his arm casually around my shoulder. “Let’s convince your mom I’m the guy.”

I blinked. “Just like that?”

“I have a weird sense of humor. Also, you looked like you were going to faint.”

I could hear my mother’s heels before I saw her. Then came the clipped voice.

“Ruby. What. Are. You. Wearing.”

I cringed. She looked like a Chanel ad with judgment issues.

“Hi, Mom. This is… Drew. My fiancé.”

Her eyes flicked to his watch, then his sneakers, then his smile.

“Drew,” she said slowly, like she was trying the name on. “Interesting.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, shaking her hand with the smoothness of a diplomat.

Then Ethan showed up.

“Ruby? What’s going on?”

My stomach dropped. There he was, Ethan in a pressed polo and khakis, holding a latte and confusion.

“Who’s this?”

“My fiancé,” I said, pointing to Drew. “My actual fiancé. I’m sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding.”

Ethan blinked like I’d just spoken French.

Mom’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Drew squeezed my hand. “I know it’s sudden,” he said smoothly. “But love doesn’t always wait. Right, babe?”

I nodded dumbly.

“We met volunteering,” he added. “Disaster relief.”

I stared at him. Disaster relief?

“Yes,” I added quickly. “Hurricane stuff. Real tragic. Brought us together.”

Mom looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.

“So you’re not marrying Ethan.”

“No. I’m marrying Drew.”

Ethan stepped back like he’d been slapped. “Wow. Okay. Good luck, Ruby.”

He left. Just like that.

Mom stared at us for a long second. Then, “We’ll talk on the plane.”

And she walked away.

Drew and I exhaled at the same time.

“That was… intense,” he muttered.

“You were incredible. Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m staying in L.A. for a few weeks. If you ever need a fake husband again, you know where to find me.”

He winked. Then turned to board.

That should’ve been the end.

But it wasn’t.

We landed. My mom grilled me in the Uber. I spun lies like a politician, Drew and I had met months ago, fallen in love, and kept it quiet.

“At least tell me you’ll get a prenup,” she muttered.

I texted Drew. Me: I owe you. Coffee?

Drew: Only if I get to be your fiancé again.

Over the next two weeks, we met every day.

He was nothing like Ethan. He was chaotic, sarcastic, curious about everything. He drew comic books, played guitar, and ate peanut butter with a spoon.

And he made me laugh.

For the first time in forever, I felt seen. Not judged. Not molded. Just… me.

So when he kissed me on the Santa Monica pier, I didn’t hesitate.

I kissed him back.

But of course, life doesn’t let you run from your mess forever.

One night, I came home and my mom was waiting in the hotel lobby.

“We need to talk. Alone.”

Upstairs, she handed me her phone. An email from a private investigator.

Photos of Drew. From two years ago.

“His real name is Andrew Mason. He was charged with fraud. Stole money from an art foundation. Went off the grid.”

I stared at the screen.

“You made me cancel a perfectly suitable engagement for a criminal.”

I shook my head. “No. There has to be a mistake.”

“Ruby, do you even know who you’re falling for?”

I didn’t sleep.

The next morning, I confronted him.

He didn’t deny it.

“I made a mistake,” he said. “I was desperate. I was broke. I did something stupid. I paid it all back, but the label stuck.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I liked the way you looked at me. Like I wasn’t broken.”

My heart ached. But the fear was louder.

I walked away.

A week passed. My mom tried to reintroduce Ethan. I didn’t respond.

“Sometimes, the most reckless choices bring you the clearest truth, who you are, and who makes you feel like home.”

Then I got a letter.

Not a text. Not an email.

A handwritten letter.

From Drew.

It read:

Ruby,
You asked me once why I said yes to pretending. Truth? I was on my way to give up. I’d been turned down by six publishers. My comic was dead. My dreams were dying.
Then you appeared. Bold. Panicked. Real.
You gave me five minutes of purpose. Then weeks of light.
I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to know—those days with you? They were the best plot twist of my life.
Forever your fake fiancé,
Drew

I showed the letter to my mom.

She said nothing.

But later, I saw her googling his comic series.

Two weeks later, I found him. At a tiny bookstore in Silverlake, sketching on a napkin.

He looked up.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Still engaged?”

I shook my head. “Unless you’re asking again.”

He smiled. “You sure? I come with baggage.”

“Yeah,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him. “But at least you’re not beige.”

Comment Question:

If you were in Ruby’s shoes, would you have trusted Drew again after learning about his past?