Her tone suggested she meant more than just fooling her family, but before I could dissect it, she set her coffee down and reached for her phone.
“Speaking of, we should probably take a few more. Casual morning stuff. Complete the narrative.”
“More photos?” I moved around the counter toward her, the request feeling less like work and more like an excuse to touch her again.
“Domestic bliss, remember?” She lifted her phone along with one eyebrow, checking the light streaming through the kitchen windows. “These don’t need to be perfect. Just... real.”
Real. I stepped behind her, close enough that I could smell her shampoo—green tea and mint instead of something generic—and wrapped my arms high around her waist, the weight of her breasts resting against my forearms. My chin found the right spot on her shoulder, the height difference working in our favor as she held up the phone to capture us both in the screen.
“Like this?” I was already settling deeper into the position—my chest pressed against her back and my fingers curling into her soft curves.
“Like this.” I caught the slight breathiness in her voice.
The camera captured us—Alex in her glasses and messy bun, me still rumpled from sleep, both of us looking like we belonged exactly where we were. She adjusted angles and I pressed a soft kiss to her cheek between frames, the gesture as natural as breathing.
“These are good,” she murmured, scrolling through the images. “Very convincing morning-after energy.”
She leaned back into me as she edited and posted an image to her stories and mischief sparked in my chest. My fingers found the ticklish spot just below her ribs, earning a surprised squeak that turned into genuine laughter.
“Finn!” She twisted in my arms, phone all but forgotten as she tried to escape my hands. “That’s not fair!”
“All’s fair in love and fake dating, babe,” I grinned as I caught her around the waist again, spinning her to face me. “Besides, now we have photos of you actually smiling instead of looking like you’re solving all those complex equations in your head.”
She swatted at my chest, but her eyes were bright with laughter, cheeks flushed pink. “I don’t look like that.”
“You absolutely do. It’s very cute. Very intimidating. Very you,” I brushed a strand of hair that had escaped her bun away from her face, my fingers trailing down to her collarbone. Something caught my attention—ink and texture beneath my fingertips that I hadn’t noticed before. A small tattoo on the left side of her chest, just low enough to be partially hidden by her shirt.
The kitchen felt smaller, warmer, like the rest of the world had narrowed down to just this space between us.
Then her phone erupted with the distinctive chaos of a family group chat reaching peak activity.
“Showtime,” Alex muttered, stepping back just enough to glance at the screen, though she didn’t fully pull away from me. “They want us there by five for ‘proper introductions’ before the other guests arrive.”
She spoke slowly while she typed her response. “We’ll get there… when we get there…. Bringing... fruit... salad…. Love you.”
I laughed. “Your poor mother.”
“She’ll survive,” she looked up at me with a mischievous glint. “Besides, she’s known I’m like this for the last forty-two years. Not my fault if she doesn’t remember.”
I checked my watch—roughly eight hours to mentally prepare for my debut as Alex’s boyfriend in front of the people whomattered the most to her. Eight hours to figure out how to be convincing without examining too closely why it felt less like acting and more like showing them how I really felt about her.
“Ready for this?” Alex studied me.
“Define ready,” I replied with a lop-sided grin, which earned me a surprised laugh.
She relaxed slightly. “Guess we’ll both find out.”
Alex pulled to the curb but didn’t cut the engine, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. I followed her gaze to the large, traditional-style home across the street—all red brick and an impeccably maintained lawn. It probably had a formal dining room and enough bedrooms for half the neighborhood. The smell of grilled meat drifted through our open windows, mixing with the sound of voices and laughter that carried on the evening air.
Suddenly Jason appeared, practically sprinting across the front lawn, followed by a small battalion of children ranging from toddler to pre-teen. At least a dozen kids thundered past in pursuit, along with two very enthusiastic Yorkies. The whole pack disappeared around the side of the house in a miniature stampede, complete with battle cries that would’ve made my old squadron proud.
“Finn, listen,” Alex turned to me, her face solemn, right hand playing with one of her oversized clear acrylic earrings. “Whatever I’ve told you, I promise it hasn’t adequately prepared you for what we’re about to walk into.”
“Alex, I’m sure it will be great,” I offered her what I hoped was a comforting smile, but she looked about as convinced as someone facing a court martial. She shifted in her seat, flexing her feet back and forth, her mind seeming to evaluate every possible disaster scenario in a matter of seconds.
“I love my family, don’t get me wrong. They’re just… a lot.”
“You mentioned that,” I kept my voice steady, the way I used to talk nervous wingmen through rough weather. “I promise I’vebeen in worse situations.”
