“I better not.” He stands, adjusting his tie. “I’ll make the announcement at the morning meeting. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”
As he reaches the door, he pauses, looking back at us with a smile. “And congratulations on the relationship. I can’t say I saw it coming, but... it makes sense. Definitely saw the sparks yesterday morning on the air.”
The door closes behind him, and for a moment, Brooks and I stand in silence, the magnitude of what just happened settling over us.
“What the hell was that?” I finally whisper, torn between gratitude and confusion. “You said—”
“I know what I said,” Brooks cuts me off, his voice low. He steps back, putting some distance between us, and I immediately miss the warmth of his hand on my shoulder. “I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Meema...” He runs a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep all night worrying about her. She wants to see me settled down, and with you. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how happiness can significantly improve her treatment outcome. I just... I need to do everything to get her through this.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words. For all his flaws—and there are many—Brooks’ love for his grandmother has always been his one redeeming quality.
Maisie. He’s doing this for her. And honestly, I should do this for her too. We both love her, and that’s one critically important thing we have in common—wanting to see her on the other side of all this. “I want that too, Brooks. So now we’re... what? Fake dating? For real?” I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t some elaborate prank.
“Apparently.” He doesn’t look thrilled about it, but there’s a resignation in his voice that suggests he’s made peace with the decision. “And when Meema recovers, which she will because she’s the toughest person I know, we have a clean break. Mutual decision, no drama.”
The reality of what he’s saying hits me like a punch to the gut. “Brooks...”
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “This helps her and your career. That’s it.”
“But can we lie to her? I don’t think I can.”
“You can because it might save her life.” His eyes meet mine.
“Yeah.” I nod, the truth of his words dawning on me. “I’d do anything for that.”
“Then it’s done.”
“Okay.” The hugeness of what he just did—for me and Maisie—overwhelms me, and I have to fight back emotion when I say, “Thank you. Truly.”
Before he can respond, the door swings open again, and Donny appears, his face thunderous when he spots Brooks.
“Kingston,” he says, his voice tight. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Donny,” Brooks replies coolly.
“Is it true?” Donny’s gaze moves between us, accusation in his eyes. “You two? Together?”
Brooks tenses beside me, but I step forward, slipping my hand into his in a gesture that feels both foreign and oddly right. “Yes. It’s true.”
Donny’s face darkens as he stares Brooks down. “We’ve been in regular communication, and you never mentioned it.”
Brooks shrugs. “We were keeping it under wraps until I was here in Dickens. Now I am.”
“Right.” Donny storms out, slamming the door behind him, which rattles the cheaply framed diploma on my wall.
“So,” Brooks says after a moment, “that went well.”
I can’t help it—I laugh. “God, what are we doing? This is wild.”
“Completely wild.” The corner of his mouth twitches into alopsided smile. “But it worked.”
“For now.” I sink into my chair, suddenly exhausted. “But we have to make this convincing, or I’ll lose everything. And if the media even gets a whiff that this is fake, you’ll be fried.”
“We’ll make it work, promise. And I don’t break promises.”
