Have you ever panicked and told a teensy little white lie?
Like that you're pregnant and secretly engaged to the totally hot stranger you were just dancing with?
I'm the girl who's always had a plan.
Type A. In control. Knows exactly what I want in life.
Then, I met the perfect guy.
Fate really is my least favorite F word.
My plan was as follows:
College (not marriage).
Career (not babies).
Conquer the world (not happily ever after).
But despite my long list of accomplishments—all my family seems to care about?
The lack of a diamond on my ring finger.
My dad won't even consider voting to approve my business proposition until I've got a man on my arm.
And my mom won't quit with her endless string of awful blind dates till I've got babies on the brain.
Which leads us back to the lie...
What's another four-letter word that starts with F? FAKE.
To my surprise, Mr. Perfect has agreed to go along with my new plan...or at least the part he knows about.
Fake Fiancé? Check.
Fake Baby? Double Check.
Positive Pregnancy Test? Oops...