“Obviously.”
“Rule number two: either of us can end it whenever we want. No questions. No drama.”
“Agreed.”
“Rule number three: no emotional complications. This is strictly practical.”
Finn nods slowly.
“Rule number four,” he adds. “We define what’s acceptable in public. Holding hands? Fine. Kissing? To be determined. Anything beyond that? No.”
“I can work with that.”
“Rule number five: we each get veto power over situations where we’re expected to appear together. If one of us is uncomfortable, we can refuse.”
“That seems reasonable.”
We look at each other across the table. The kitchen light casts strange shadows across his face. He looks exhausted. Resigned.
But also... intrigued.
“So,” I say slowly. “We’re really doing this?”
Finn takes one last sip of milk, sets his mug down carefully, and looks me straight in the eye.
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long does this fake dating thing last?”
I think out loud.
“We’ll need enough time to make people believe we’re actually falling for each other. The Highland Games are in two months. The whole family will be there. If we make it until then, Maggie will be satisfied. After that, we can quietly ‘break up.’”
“Eight weeks.”
“Eight weeks,” I confirm.
“And then?”
“Then we go back to being acquaintances.”
Silence settles between us.
Heavy.
Long.
Then Finn reaches his hand across the table toward me.
“Okay. Deal.”
I stare at his outstretched hand.
This is completely insane. Ridiculous. The kind of plan responsible adults absolutely do not make.
But then again... not everyone has a grandmother whose life mission is marrying off all her grandchildren.
