"Actually, that's not a look. That's a cold open. Whatever kind of day you're having? I'd buy the rights."
"You have no idea," April said before she could stop herself.
"Come on." His eyes gleamed. "I can see the third act from here. What happened in the first two?"
She was not about to explain her entire humiliating day to a man she'd only ever seen on a billboard.
Except.
No one had actually asked her yet.
Everyone else had just seen it, reacted to it, managed around it. And suddenly she wanted to tell someone. Wanted to say it out loud and own it.
"You know how in your movies, the girl always realizes the guy is The One because he fixed her flat tire or saved the Christmas pageant? My version is realizing my boyfriend was The Wrong One because he thought 'April Fools' was a legal defense."
Caleb's eyebrows lifted. Not the practiced surprise from Heartland promos. Actual interest.
"Legal defense for what?"
"Cheating. I caught him on his desk with someone from HR. He said it was a prank. Like that made it—" She gestured vaguely. "—less real."
"And the ring?" He nodded at her hand. "That part of the prank too?"
"The ring is—" April looked down at the diamond catching sunlight like it was trying to start a fire. "The ring is fromsomeone else. Someone who's pretending to be my fiancé so Chad can't—"
She stopped. This was insane. She was explaining her fake engagement to a man whose IMDB page read like a catalog of fictional proposals. He'd gotten engaged in fake snow, real snow, and that one movie where the snow was actually soap bubbles. Her fake engagement was amateur hour.
Caleb's smile softened, his eyes sharpening with that actor-focus that probably made scene partners feel like the only person in the room.
"I've played a veterinarian who fell in love while bottle-feeding an orphaned raccoon. Your story's not even top ten weirdest things I've heard this month." He paused. "So you've got a fake fiancé and a real ex who thinks gaslighting counts as humor. I'm invested. Keep going."
And then it all came out.
The cupcake. The supply closet. Chad saying “April Fools” like that erased what she’d just seen.
The password reset attempt in the server room.
The fake engagement that felt increasingly real. Killian Blackwood had put a ring on her finger in front of the entire office, and she’d said yes.
And then she did the voice. Chad's voice. Her shoulders bobbled back and forth in exaggerated reasonableness, her tone dropping into that flat, patronizing register he used when he wanted to sound like the adult in the room.
"I'm not going to overreact to this. When you're done playing games—and you've calmed down—call me."
Caleb snickered.
April realized she'd been talking for—she didn't know how long. Long enough that her throat felt raw, and Caleb was still listening with that same focused attention that probably made directors love him and scene partners trust him.
"Sorry," she said automatically. "That was—"
"A better story than anything my writers have come up with in fifteen years. Real stakes. Real conflict. You've got a genuine villain." He paused, thoughtful. "Best villains aren't evil—they're convinced they're the hero. And your guy? He sounds like he's convinced he's the star of his own movie."
April let out a sharp laugh, the kind that hurt coming out.
Caleb straightened, no longer leaning. Suddenly present in a way that felt intentional. Behind him, Liam had materialized near the car, watching with obvious amusement.
"Your ex, sounds like the kind of man who thinks he's the romantic lead, no matter what scene he walks into."
"That's exactly it. He thinks he's—" She gestured vaguely. "—you. The wholesome guy who made a mistake but deserves forgiveness because he's fundamentally good. Except your movies don't start with the main character finding out her boyfriend's been 'working late' with someone who definitely wasn't baking cookies for the church fundraiser."
