Topher leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so determined to snag a spot meant for a skateboard, you wouldn’t have ended up nose-to-nose with my limo.”
Mrs. Brodie watched our playful back-and-forth with a delighted smile. “And how long have you two been together?”
I glanced at Topher, trying to keep up the act while my mind raced. I’ve never been good at improv. “How long has it been, honey?”
Topher didn’t miss a beat. “Six months,” he said confidently, before adding with a wink, “though sometimes it feels like only a day.”
I jumped in, smirking, “And other times, it feels like ten years.”
Topher raised an eyebrow playfully. “Ten years? I was going to say a lifetime.”
The nurse stepped in, her voice gentle but firm. “Alright, you two, time to let Mom get some rest. She’s got surgery tomorrow, and after that, she’ll need four weeks of recovery with absolutely no stress.”
Mrs. Brodie reached out, her eyes glistening with tears. I walked over, and she grabbed both of my hands, her grip surprisingly strong, and pulled me into a hug. “Kathleen, I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
I was speechless, guilt thudding in my chest. This was all one big, elaborate lie, and yet here I was, playing along. Luckily, the curtain was about to drop on this ridiculous performance because the nurse shooed us toward the door. “Out you go. Let her rest.”
We stepped into the hallway, and Topher leaned in close, his voice low. “We really need to work on our how-we-met story.”
“Fine. We met while wrestling an alligator in the bayou.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defensively. “No, we don’t have to work on our story. I’ll take my five hundred dollars, thank you very much, and we can part ways.” My tone was firm, hoping to make it crystal clear that this little charade had reached its expiration date.Just take the money and run, Kathleen. No need to complicate things further.
Topher took out his wallet and gave me the money.
“Nice doing business with you,” I said, then started walking away.
He cleared his throat. “Just hear me out.” I stopped and looked. His expression was completely serious, almost desperate. “Kathleen, my mom is so happy right now, and I haven’t seen her like that in ages. Didn’t you notice how she lit up? It’s like she’s finally got something to look forward to, something to keep her spirits up through all this. Please, just until after she’s recovered from the surgery. Four weeks, that’s all I’m asking.”
I shook my head and walked outside and into the parking lot, Topher right beside me. “I’m not interested in being part of this soap opera. I’ll take the five hundred bucks for babysitting your laptop, but that’s it. I’m not signing up for a four-week charade.”
But he didn’t back down. If anything, he looked even more determined. “Kathleen, please. You don’t understand. My mom hasn’t been this happy in years. This whole thing has given her hope again. I’ve never seen her this excited about anything since she got sick. I can’t take that away from her now.”
“Topher.” I sighed, trying to hold my ground. “I’m really sorry about your mom, but?—”
“Please, Kathleen.” He spoke softly, pleading. “I need to protect her, keep her spirits up. This might be the only way to do that. Just four weeks, that’s all I’m asking. You don’t even have to see me if you don’t want to. You just lost your house, right? Stay at my place. It’s a mansion in the Garden District. It’s big enough that we’ll never even have to cross paths. You don’t have to pay rent, and you’ll have time to find a new apartment. In return, my mom gets the peace of mind she needs. Please, I’m begging you.”
I stared at him, feeling my resolve crumble. My mind flashed to my mounting debt, unpaid bills sitting on my kitchen counter, and the fact that I was one missed payment away from losing everything. I needed this more than I cared to admit.
I let out a long sigh, trying not to sound as defeated as I felt. “Look, I’m not an ogre. I’m not about to crush your mom’s happiness.”
His eyes snapped to mine, lit with a flicker of surprise, like he hadn’t expected me to say yes, not even a little.
“So...?”
“Fine.” I threw my hands in the air. “But only until she’s better. And for the record, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for her. And the free rent.”
“Great,” he said, pulling out his phone with zero hesitation, like he was checking off a task on a very long to-do list.
Just like that, the warmth he’d shown a moment earlier—the playful glances, the easy smile he’d flashed in front of his mom, the way he pulled me in when Alex was watching—gone. Replaced by the Topher I met at the airport: focused, cold, already swiping through emails like I was a line item on his calendar.
I gritted my teeth. “I’m not here to make your life easier, Topher.”
“Yeah,” he said without looking up. “I know. Believe me, I’m not expecting miracles. Just… don’t mess this up.”
There it was. The tone. Clinical. Detached. The same one he probably used to fire assistants and cancel meetings with people who had families and feelings. It made me want to scream.
Why was I doing this again? I hated his smug face. His total disregard for actual human emotion. And yet, I was saying yes. Because I didn’t have a better option.
“Text me the address,” I muttered, hating myself a little more with each syllable.
