Page 58 of My Real Love Affair

“Of course I’m paying. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you pay?”

“The kind who respects my independence and earning power?”

“Nice try. I’m still paying.”

We left the restaurant with my arm around her waist, playing it up for the phones I knew were watching.

“Sunday at six,” I reminded her as we pulled up outside her townhouse. “Don’t forget.”

“How could I? You basically demanded it. You know, you’re very bossy. You assume a lot of things.”

“One of my many flaws.” I leaned closer. “But you like me anyway.”

“I tolerate you. There’s a difference.”

“You like me,” I insisted. “Admit it.”

“I’ll admit you’re occasionally useful.”

“I’ll take it.” I opened her door for her. “See you Sunday, Melody.”

She paused before getting out, looking back at me with an odd expression. “Thank you,” she said again. “For everything. You didn’t have to go that hard for me.”

“Yeah, I did. You deserved it.”

She smiled then slid out of the car. I watched her walk up to her door and then disappear inside. I was going to get an invite into her secret domain one of these days. But I would takeit slow. I didn’t want to scare her off and have her change her mind.

I was starting to really like her. Which was a problem.

Because when this arrangement ended and when we both got what we needed from each other, I was going to have to let her go.

CHAPTER 18

MELODY

Ihad no business being this excited. Standing in front of my full-length mirror, holding up a third dress option while the first two lay discarded on my bed, I felt like a teenager getting ready for prom.

My heart was doing a fluttery thing it had no right to do. I wasn’t sure why I cared so much about what I looked like. Probably because I wasn’t dressing for pictures. I was dressing for him. I was trying to impress him first.

It was ridiculous. This was a business arrangement. A performance. It didn’t matter if he thought I was pretty or sexy. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t like he was truly interested in me. It was all for show. Pictures to be circulated like trading cards. Look at the Bancroft playboy with his serious girlfriend. And it was all fake.

But damn, it felt like more than that.

“The navy one,” Cleo said from her perch on my bed, scrolling through her phone while simultaneously playing stylist. “It’s elegant but not trying too hard. And it photographs well, which you know is going to matter.”

“Right. Photos.” I held the navy dress up to myself. “Because Austin Bancroft is definitely going to post about whatever fancy date he’s taking me on.”

“Obviously. That’s literally the point of your arrangement.” She looked up, eyes narrowing. “Why are you so giddy about this? You realize this is all fake, right?”

“I’m not giddy.”

“You’ve changed outfits a million times.”

“Three times. And I’m just—I want to look appropriate for wherever he’s taking me.” I disappeared behind my changing screen, slipping into the navy dress. It was one of my favorites for spring. The A-line was probably one of my top-tier style choices. The dress had a subtle shimmer woven through the fabric.

I emerged from behind the screen. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous. As always.” But her expression was concerned. “Mel, are you sure you’re keeping your head on straight about all this?”