In the park, when he'd stepped between me and Landon, he hadn't hunched at all. He'd let himself be enormous.
He'd done that for me.
The flowers sat on the table in front of me. Ranunculus and eucalyptus, soft peach and cream with a deep red ribbon. I'd ordered them for myself as a small act of self-love, and Holden had turned them into something else entirely.
The card was still in my hand.You're more than enough. Remember that.
“Here.” Holden set a cup in front of me and folded himself into the opposite side of the booth. His knees hit the underside of the table, and he shifted, trying to find a position that fit.
I wrapped my hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into my fingers, before adding four of those little half and half containers and two sugars because fuck, it had been that kind of a morning. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The café noise filled the silence: Mags calling out an order, the hiss of the espresso machine, conversation from nearby tables.
“I owe you an explanation,” I said. “About Landon.”
“You don't owe me anything.”
“I want to tell you.” I took a breath. “We were together for two years in Denver. He wasn’t like that at first, not in the beginning. He was charming, confident, made me feel like the center of the world.” I stared at my coffee. “But then it shifted. He wanted me a certain way. Quieter. Easier. When I had needs, he'd shut down. Go cold. Make me feel like wanting anything from him was asking too much.”
Holden's brow furrowed, but he didn't interrupt.
“When we broke up, he moved back here. Prospect Ridge, where he grew up. His family owns the ski resort up the mountain.” He chuckled low. “I guess you already knew that. Anyway, we'd agreed to share custody of Marceline and Bubblegum.” I shrugged, trying to make it smaller than it felt. “So I followed him. For the dogs.” I shook my head and looked at my coffee mug. “I know how dumb that sounds. Pathetic.”
“Don't say that.” Holden tapped his fingers on the table. “He said you were stalking him.”
“He says a lot of things.” The bitterness crept into my voice before I could stop it. “Every Friday afternoon, I meet him to exchange the dogs. And every Friday, he finds a new way to make me feel like nothing. Like I'm a loser for being here, for not being over him, for just fucking existing in his space.” I set down my cup. “But today, when you showed up, when you kissed me and gave me the flowers and he read that card, he didn't know what to do.” I laughed wryly. “That was great.”
Holden’s dark eyes were fixed on my face. “Glad I could help.”
“Me too.” And then it hit me. The idea arrived fully formed, like lightning cracking open my skull.
“Oh my god.” I sat up straighter, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess them. “What if we kept doing this?”
Holden's brow furrowed. “Kept doing what?”
“This. You and me. Together.” I spread my hands. “You already started it today, right? If we just... kept it going, for a little while, Landon would back off. He'd stop with the shitty comments, stop trying to make me feel small. He'd have to accept that I've moved on.”
“You want me to fake date you.”
“Yes.” My face was burning, but I made myself hold his gaze. “I know it's a lot. I know it's weird. But what you did today worked, and I just, I need him to think I'm okay. Even if I'm not.”
Holden was silent for a long moment. He picked up his coffee, took a drink, set it down again. Then he shook his head.
“Look, I'm running the shop alone right now,” he said. “My assistant retired in December, and I haven't found anyone to replace her. Valentine's Day is three weeks out. It's the busiest season of the year. I barely have time to sleep, let alone play boyfriend for someone I just met. I'm sorry.”
My heart sank. “I understand. It was stupid to—” I stopped. Looked at him. At the tension in his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes I hadn't noticed before. “Wait. You said you need help.”
“I said I don't have time.”
“But you need help.” The idea expanded, clicking into place like puzzle pieces. “What if I helped you? At the shop. In exchange for... this.”
Holden's brow furrowed. “You want to work at the flower shop.”
“I want to make a trade.” I leaned forward, warming to the idea. “You help me, I help you. I don't know anything about flowers, but I can learn the basics. I can handle customers while you're in the back doing arrangements. Answer phones. Deal with emails. I'm a freelance designer. I make my own hours. I can be there mornings until lunch time.”
He was staring at me like I'd started speaking another language.
“In exchange,” I continued, “you pretend to be my boyfriend for a few weeks. We go out in public, let people see us together, and Landon has to accept I've moved on.”
“Define 'go out in public.'“
