I’m not going to ask about the two-person costumes. I’m absolutely not going to ask.
“Fake boyfriend,” he clarifies, taking pity on me. Or possibly just wanting to deliver more information before I recover enough to flee. “My godmother is visiting London, and she’s really protective of me. If she sees me injured and living with a stranger, she’ll want to move in and take care of me. But if she thinks I have a devoted partner who’s looking after me, she’ll relax.”
“And I’m the devoted partner in this scenario.”
“You’re already living with me and helping me out. We just need to add a romantic dimension.”
A romantic dimension. He says it like we’re discussing a business proposal. Like my pulse isn’t doing something inconvenient at the mere suggestion.
“But I’m the one who broke your ankle.”
“She doesn’t need to know that part.”
I should say no. This has disaster written all over it in letters large enough to see from space. Pretending to be Archie’s boyfriend means touching him. Looking at him the way a boyfriend would. Letting people believe we’re together when every day I’m fighting not to want exactly that.
Every day I stay here, the lie between us gets harder to undo. And now he wants me to stand in front of someone who actually loves him and add another layer to it.
“What would it involve?” I ask because my survival instincts have completely abandoned me.
Archie’s smile widens. He knows he’s winning.
“Just the usual. Some casual affection. Pet names if you’re feeling ambitious. The kind of lingering eye contact that says ‘I’ve seen this man naked and I liked what I saw.’” He chuckles at my expression. “Too much? We can workshop that.”
My face is still doing something I can’t control. “How long would this charade need to continue?”
“Just a week or two. However long Elizabeth’s visit lasts.” He leans forward. “Come on, Leo. Think of it as a challenge. You’ve survived princess parties and inflatable dinosaur costumes. How hard can playing the role of my boyfriend be?”
The answer is: very hard. Extremely hard. Potentially the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
But I’ve never been able to resist a challenge. Especially not one delivered with that particular smile, I’m finding.
“If I agree,” I say slowly, “we need ground rules.”
“I love ground rules. Very sexy.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Lay them on me.”
“Physical contact stays within reasonable bounds. Nothing that would be inappropriate in front of your godmother.”
“Agreed. We’ll keep things PG-13.”
“We establish a backstory and stick to it. No improvising details that I’ll have to remember later.”
“Smart. We’ll need to work up a relationship history before she gets here.”
“Then…” I take a breath. “I suppose I’m your boyfriend.”
Archie’s smile could now power a small city. “I knew you’d see reason.”
“I’m not seeing reason. I’m seeing myself being manipulated by a man who’s too clever for his own good.”
Archie has a weird reaction to my words. His smile falters for just a second before he recovers and sends me a wink.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.”
Darling. My stomach does something entirely unhelpful at that word said in Archie’s voice.
