So I’d stopped wanting. Stopped hoping. Learned to survive on what I had instead of reaching for what I didn’t.
But watching Liam with Mia today—feeling the ease of the silence between us on that porch—I’d felt something crack open in my chest.
There was a feeling building that I refused to name. Naming things gave them power. Naming things made them real.
So I called it gratitude. Called it relief. Called it anything except what it actually was.
The slow, dangerous realization that this place, this man, this life we were pretending to build…
I was starting to want it.
For real.
CHAPTER 10
Riley
One month into the arrangement,and I was starting to forget it was supposed to be temporary.
That should have terrified me. Should have sent me scrambling back behind the walls I'd spent a lifetime building. But the fear that usually came with wanting things—sharp and immediate, the kind that made me pull away before I could get hurt—had dulled to something quieter. Something I could almost ignore if I didn't think about it too hard.
The court-appointed evaluator was coming tomorrow, and the ranch was in chaos.
I stress-cleaned the kitchen while Liam tackled the living room, both of us moving with the frantic energy of people who knew they were being judged and couldn’t afford to fail. Every surface had to shine. Every pillow had to be fluffed. Every sign of the careful distance we’d maintained had to disappear.
Which meant moving my things into Liam’s room.
I watched from the hallway as he carried my pillow down from the guest room, tucking it beside his on the bed we were supposed to be sharing. His nightstand—previously bare except for a lamp and his phone charger—now held my book, myreading glasses, and the small bottle of lavender oil I used to help me sleep.
Something twisted in my chest.
This is pretend,I reminded myself.This is strategy. Appearances for the evaluator—nothing more.
So why did seeing my shampoo next to his in the bathroom make my breath catch? Why did the sight of my robe hanging on the back of his door feel so unexpectedly right?
“We’ll say you’re organized and I’m a disaster,” Liam called from the bedroom. “That’s not a lie.”
“Exactly. Best lies are mostly true.”
I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Then he filled the doorway, leaning against the frame, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
“See? We’re naturals at this deception thing.”
Our eyes met, and I almost smiled back.
A month ago, I wouldn’t have given him even the hint of a smile. I would’ve kept my walls firmly in place, let his humor slide off without ever landing.
But somewhere between the barn chores and the shared dinners and the quiet evenings on the porch, something had shifted.
His jokes didn’t irritate me anymore. They brushed closer than I was comfortable with. Almost made me want to smile.
And that scared me more than any court hearing ever could.
That night, we gathered around the dinner table for what Liam called astrategy session.In reality, it was just the three of us trying not to panic.
Mia looked between us, unimpressed. “So I’m supposed to lie?”
“Not lie.” I chose the words carefully, aware of the line I was walking. “Just… don’t volunteer information. Answer what they ask. Nothing more.”
