We’re both laughing now, and suddenly the weirdness from earlier dissolves. This is us. This is what we do. We make each other laugh even when life delivers a dump truck full of lemons. The conversation turns into questions about Posh’s real name (would a parent actually write that on a birth certificate?!) and a discussion about what we’d name our children (respectively, not together. Though I do like her suggestions of Kelsey for a girl and Caleb for a boy).
Meanwhile, my phone has been buzzing in the kitchen. When we start to clean up, I check it and find ten messages from Whitaker. It buzzes in my hand. Make that eleven.
“Let me guess, that’s Whitaker.”
“Yep. He wants an update on whether we officially accept the Love at First Wag offer.”
Standing by the sink, April stiffens. “You mean our fake dating thing?”
I belatedly realize that my comments about all the fake dating probably cemented in April’s mind that she’s just part of the churn. My phone beeps again.
“He won’t let up.”
“Let’s see what we’re getting into,” she says with a sigh.
I pull up the contracts as we return to the table. She scoots her chair closer and I inhale her lilac scent as we huddle over my phone.
The contract is surprisingly detailed, including public appearances, social media posts, and joint photoshoots. The campaign runs from now until early May. There’s a non-disclosure agreement and at the bottom, a number with a lot of zeros.
“That’s a lot of money,” April breathes.
“It is.” Even after all these years, I’m still astounded by and grateful for how much money I’ve acquired—I’ve offered to fund the Barkery, but April won’t hear of it.
“Although if you switched the zeros around, you could only buy three-quarters of a latte.”
I snort. “Math genius over here.”
“I contain multitudes.” She scrolls through the contract. “So we have to act like a couple in public?”
“Looks like it.”
“Define ‘act like a couple.’”
“I don’t know. Hold hands? Go on dates? Post cute photos?” I suggest.
“Kiss?” She says it so quietly I almost miss it.
I nod slowly.
“The kiss cam doesn’t count?”
I scratch my temple, worried she might back out—because then I’ll have to deal with Whitaker. I won’t let myself speed toward disappointment because I’ll even fake date April if it means being close to her.
I say, “That was for the crowd.”
She shifts uncomfortably. “Right. For the crowd. So we’d have to do it again?”
“I would think so.”
She bites her lip, eyes darting to me and then away, back again, and at the window. Either she’s having serious doubts or … I don’t dare let myself think that she liked it. Though she did kiss me back. She leaned into me. Her pulse practically had her trembling in my arms.
My phone beeps and I consider turning it off. April grabs it from the counter and hastily types. I peer over her shoulder and read as the letters appear.Yes, we’re doing it. Relax.
“So it’s official?”
April draws a deep breath. “We’re officially fake dating.”
My pulse takes off at a sprint as I take a risk. “In that case, maybe, um, we should practice? I mean, Badaszek would suggest that.”
