“It’s okay.” I move to the couch. He stays standing. “It is very me. At least, the version of me that’s trying to make something work on a shoestring budget.”
“You left Maple Lake for this,” he says quietly. “To start your business.”
“I moved in with Jessa two years ago.” I wrap both hands around the cup. “Did odd jobs to get by. But it wasn’t until I started planning Maya’s wedding that I even considered event planning as a job. So I scraped together my savings and decided to go all in on that. ”
“Is it working?”
The honesty slips out. “I’m here, aren’t I? Still trying. That has to count for something.”
His expression softens in a way that makes my chest tight. “It counts for a lot.”
The radiator clanks. Outside, the wind rattles the window.
“I thought about you,” he says. “After Barcelona. I thought about trying to find you. But Maple Lake seemed far, and I didn’t have your last name, and I convinced myself it was better to just—” He stops. “Let you go.”
“But you didn’t let me go. Because here you are.”
“Here I am.” He finally sits—not on the couch next to me, but in one of the mismatched chairs across the coffee table. Maintaining distance. “Turns out you were forty minutes away this whole time.”
“Not in Maple Lake after all.”
“Not in Maple Lake.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Chloe.” He says my name like it hurts. And for a moment, he’s just Brody again, the charming man I met in Barcelona. Sweet. Safe.
The moment stretches between us. Heavy. Real. The space filling with that kind of meaningful silence that makes your heart race and your skin tingle.
Then Jessa’s voice carries from her bedroom. “What about the deal? Didn’t you come here to propose something?”
Brody’s expression shifts. Like a door closing. The vulnerability disappears, replaced by something more guarded.
“Right.” He clears his throat, sits back. “The deal.”
And just like that, we’re not talking about Barcelona anymore.
“My agent thinks this could work. The photo. You and me. The response has been good. Really good. It helps my image, which I need right now.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why do you need help with your image?”
He hesitates. “Team stuff. Contract renewal coming up. It’s complicated. But having a girlfriend, having stability—it looks good.”
“More marketable.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound happy about it. “And you need a date to your sister’s wedding events. Five of them? Starting this weekend.”
“Saturday,” I confirm.
“So we help each other.” He’s looking at me, but also not. “I get good PR. You get a boyfriend for the wedding season. Clean. Professional. Mutually beneficial.”
“No strings,” I hear myself say.
“No strings,” he agrees quickly. Too quickly. “No romance. Just an arrangement. Five events. We show up together, act like a couple, and when it’s over, we’re done.”
My heart is doing something painful. Because a minute ago, he was apologizing, being real, admitting he looked me up online. And now we’re talking business transactions.
“And to make it worth your time—” He pauses. Glances at the counter. At the bills he saw but didn’t mention. Back to me. “I’ll pay you.”
The words fall on me like icy water.
Pay me? The student loan bill burns on the counter. The rent due in three days. The business barely surviving. The life I can’t quite hold together.
