Chloe’s face gives me nothing. She’s staring at her coffee cup—the candy cane mocha I spent twenty minutes in line for at some speakeasy coffee shop I found by stalking her Instagram like a creep—and I can’t read her expression. Her roommate’s door is cracked open. She’s definitely listening. I sound like a jerk. I know it.
I should say something. Clarify. Make this sound less like I’m trying to buy her affection and more like a mutually beneficial business arrangement between two adults.
“I know how that sounds,” I start. Professional. Matter-of-fact. Like I’m negotiating a lease, not asking someone I ghosted to pretend to love me. “But I’m serious. This would be a legitimate arrangement. My agent will draw up a contract. Clear terms. Professional boundaries.”
Chloe finally looks up. Those eyes—the ones I remember from dancing under twinkling lights in Barcelona—are guarded now. Calculating.
“How much?” she asks. Direct. No games.
I respect that.
I also hate that I saw the student loan bill on her counter. Three months overdue. The number made my stomach turn. I don’t know the full extent of her situation, but I know desperation when I see it. I’ve been wearing it like a second skin for weeks.
“Twenty thousand.” The number comes out steady. Not so high it seems like I’m trying to buy her. Not so low it’s insulting. “Ten up front. Ten after the last event.”
Her eyes widen slightly. She wasn’t expecting that much.
Good. Neither was I until the words came out of my mouth.
From the bedroom, her roommate’s voice cuts through. “What are these events? What’s he asking you to do, Chloe?”
Chloe glances toward the hallway. “Jessa?—”
“No, it’s fine.” I lean back, trying to look relaxed even though my shoulders are tight enough to snap. “She should know. You both should.” I look at Chloe. “All five events. Starting this Saturday.”
“All of it.” Chloe sets down her coffee. “You sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“What events specifically?” Jessa again, from the other room.
Chloe looks at me, waiting.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m not the wedding expert here. You tell me.”
Chloe hesitates, then lists them on her fingers. “Meet-and-greet party. Saturday night. We’re hosting it in a party room at a bowling place.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Okay. Saturday. What else?”
“Couples bridal shower in two weeks. Then three days for the destination wedding, Valentine’s Day weekend. Rehearsal dinner, the wedding ceremony, and the reception.”
I wince. That’s right. The wedding is on Valentine’s Day.
Because God has a sense of humor.
“All right. So I show up, play the part of a devoted boyfriend, make you look good for your family, the whole song and dance.”
“That’s the idea.”
“What’s in this for you?” Jessa’s voice is louder now. Closer. “Besides fixing your image and keeping your precious contract? Why Chloe specifically?”
Chloe turns her gaze back to me, the question echoing in her eyes.
The question I’ve been dreading.
The one I’ve been thinking about since she left me in a cloud of diesel on the sidewalk last night.
She…isn’t impressed by me. And I know that sounds crazy. But I made her laugh six months ago in Barcelona, and she let me kiss her, and she didn’t have a clue who I was, really.
