Jessa’s eyebrows rise. “You’re that desperate?”
“I’m that desperate.”
She studies me for a long moment. Then nods, like I’ve passed some test. “Five events. Like I said, you show up to all of them. You play the part of devoted boyfriend convincingly enough that Chloe’s family believes it.”
“Done.”
“You don’t embarrass her. You don’t make her look stupid. You treat her like she’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Something in my chest tightens. “Done.”
“After the end of the last event, the wedding on Valentine’s Day, you two have a big, public fight. Chloe’s the heartbroken one. You’re the jerk who couldn’t commit. Her family rallies around her, stops trying to set her up, and leaves her alone.”
I hesitate. That one stings. Being the villain again. Hurting her publicly after hurting her privately in Barcelona. And doing it on Valentine’s Day, because apparently, I’m destined to be that guy.
But what choice do I have?
“Okay,” I say quietly.
“And one more thing.” Jessa’s voice is hard now. Final. “You don’t talk about Barcelona—not outside of your official story. Sure, you can tell everyone how you two met and how you swept Chloe off her feet. And how you spent an evening together. But that’s it. No googly-eyed stories about kissing under the orange trees. That’s her story, and you don’t get to use it. And you don’t get to make her relive being left behind without so much as an explanation. You got that, Candy?”
I look at Chloe. She’s staring at her hands. Not meeting my eyes.
She wants to pretend our kiss never happened.
Which means it mattered to her. Which means it still hurts.
Which means I did exactly what I was afraid of—I hurt her so badly she wants to erase it.
“Fine.”
Chloe finally looks up. “And physical boundaries. Handholding is fine. Kissing on the cheek if necessary for photos or family. But no—” She stops. Clears her throat. “No real kissing. Nothing more than what’s needed to sell it.”
The way she says real kissing does something to my stomach. Because that kiss can still undo me.
“Understood.”
“And when this is all over, you let her be. No contact,” Jessa says.
I just found her again, and already I’m losing her…
My teeth click shut, holding back the objection as I nod. “My agent will have a contract drawn up.”
Chloe won’t meet my eyes. Her cheeks are pink, highlighting her freckles. I want to reach out, brush my thumb over them, reassure her that I would never do anything to hurt her…but I already have. And I’ve got no right to act like I didn’t.
Her eyes lift to the frosty window. “So, we make our big entrance at the party this Saturday.”
“I can pick you up,” I offer. “We should arrive together. Makes it look more real.”
“The party starts around three,” Chloe says. “But I’m supposed to be there early to set up, because, you know, I’m the event planner.”
“No problem. I’ll pick you up early. Help you set up.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” The words come out before I can stop them. Too honest. Too eager. I dial it back. “I mean, it might earn a few points with your family. Make it more believable. Devoted boyfriend helps with party setup. It can’t hurt.”
Jessa’s watching me with narrowed eyes. She doesn’t buy the casual act.
