Chapter 21
Harper
The food truck park is buzzing with Saturday afternoon energy.
Families with kids. College students. Couples on dates.
And me and Micah, sitting at a picnic table with tacos from the best truck in Dallas, pretending like this morning didn’t happen.
Pretending like I didn’t see him shirtless on my bedroom floor.
Pretending like he didn’t take care of me all night while I was sick.
Pretending like I didn’t say he looked “dangerously good” in those glasses an hour ago.
“These are incredible,” Micah says, taking another bite of his carne asada taco. “How did I not know about this place?”
“Because you live under a rock,” I say, biting into my al pastor taco. “This is like, the best food truck park in Dallas.”
“I don’t live under a rock. I’m just... busy.”
“With church stuff?”
“With church stuff,” he confirms.
We eat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the park filling the space between us—music from one truck, kids laughing, the sizzle of grills.
It feels natural.
Easy.
Which is dangerous because nothing about this situation is supposed to be easy.
My phone buzzes on the table, and I glance down.
Dr. Bailey
Hi Harper! Quick question. What’s the name of your church again? Shawn and I are looking to try somewhere new tomorrow, and I remember you mentioning yours is great!
I freeze, taco halfway to my mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Micah asks.
“Nothing. Just—” I set down the taco and pick up my phone, typing quickly.
Harper
New Chapter Church! It’s on Main Street downtown. Service starts at 9:30.
“Harper, you look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Not a ghost. Worse.” I show him the screen. “My principal wants to visit my church. Tomorrow.”
Micah’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
My phone buzzes again.
Dr. Bailey
Perfect! Maybe we’ll see you there?
I type back before I can overthink it.
Harper
Yes! Definitely. I’ll be there. Meet me in the lobby, and we can sit together!
Dr. Bailey
Wonderful! I do hope Micah will be with you. He’s quite the catch. Shawn was impressed with him at the gala.
I stare at the screen.
Then I slowly look up at Micah.
He’s watching me with a cautious expression. “What?”
“She wants you to be there.”
“At church?”
“At church. Tomorrow. She said,” I glance back at my phone. “She said you’re ‘quite the catch’ and her husband was impressed with you.”
Micah blinks. “He was?”
“Apparently.” I set my phone down, my mind already racing. “Okay. Okay, this is fine. We can work with this.”
“Harper—”
“You just have to come and sit with us during the service. Maybe we grab lunch after with Mariah and her husband. Easy.”
“Harper.”
“It’ll be fine. You’re great with people. Everyone loved you last night. This is just an extension of that—”
“Harper.” His voice is firmer now. “I can’t.”
I stop mid-ramble. “What?”
“I have to work.”
My brain blanks. “Work?”
“Sunday mornings. I’m the children’s ministry director, remember?”
Oh crap.
“I forgot.” I press my hand to my forehead.
“How did you forget my job?” He’s trying not to smile.
“I don’t know! I was—” I gesture vaguely with my taco. “I was thinking about the fake dating thing, not your actual job!”
“Which is running the children’s ministry.”
“At the church we’d be attending.”
“On Sunday morning.”
“When you’re working.”
“Exactly,” he says. “Wait, aren’t you scheduled to serve both hours tomorrow?”
“Crap, yes. I’ll have to swap with someone.” I glance at him hopefully. “Can you swap me?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, don’t you have a fancy app or something with all the volunteer schedules?”
“Harper, it’s not that simple. Text your pod leader.”
I stare at him.
He stares at me.
“Micah. You are the leader of all the pods.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, just text me. Officially. So I have it in writing.”
“That is the most bureaucratic thing you’ve ever said to me.” I drop my head into my hands. “This is a disaster.”
“It’s not a disaster.”
“Yes, it is. Dr. Bailey is expecting to see you, and now I have to tell her you won’t be there, and she’s going to think we broke up or that I lied about having a boyfriend—”
“Harper.” Micah reaches across the table and gently pulls my hands away from my face. “Breathe.”
I take a shaky breath.
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Here’s what we do. You tell her the truth. That I work Sunday mornings because I run the children’s ministry. That makes sense. It’s not suspicious.”
I blink. “That’s...actually smart.”
“Right? And honestly, it makes me look better.”
“How?”
“Because I’m a great, godly man who’s so dedicated to his faith that he works at the church every Sunday.”
I stare at him. “Did you just call yourself a great, godly man?”
“I’m quoting you. From about thirty seconds ago.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You definitely implied it.”
“I did not—” I stop, realizing he’s messing with me. “Are you enjoying this?”
“Maybe a little.”
“I’m having a crisis here.”
“I can tell.” He’s full-on grinning now. “But it’s kind of fun watching you spiral.”
I grab a tortilla chip and throw it at him. He catches it easily, still grinning.
“Okay, fine,” I say, picking up my taco again. “So you’ll be working during the service. That’s actually fine. Great, even. Very respectable.”
“Wow. What a compliment.”
“I’m serious. It shows you’re committed. And very responsible.”
“All the qualities you want in a fake boyfriend.”
“Exactly—” I pause. “Wait. Are you mocking me?”
“Would I do that?”
“Yes. You absolutely would.”
He laughs, and despite my panic, I feel myself smiling.
Goodness, I enjoy making him laugh.
Wait. No. Stop that thought immediately.
“Okay,” I say, refocusing. “So you’re working during the service. That’s covered. But—” I hesitate. “What about after?”
“After?”
“Lunch. With Dr. Bailey and her husband.” I look at him hopefully. “Could you swing that?”
He’s quiet for a beat, studying me.
“You want me to have lunch with your principal and her husband.”
“Yes.”
“After I’ve already worked all morning.”
“Yes.”
“To keep up the fake dating charade.”
“Yes.”
He leans back, considering. “This wasn’t part of the original deal.”
“I know.”
“The deal was just the gala.”
“I know that too.”
“And now you’re asking me to extend it.”
“I know, I know. I’m asking a lot. But Micah, she’s my boss. If she thinks I lied about having a boyfriend, it’s going to be so awkward at work, and…”
“Okay.”
I stop. “Okay?”
“Yes. I can do lunch.”
Relief floods through me. “Really?”
“Really. But you’re paying.”
“Done. Absolutely. I’ll pay for lunch every day for a week if you want.”
“Let’s start with tomorrow and see how it goes.”
“Thank you.” I reach across the table and squeeze his hand without thinking. “Seriously. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
His expression shifts slightly, something I can’t quite read passing across his face.
“Just a fake lifesaver,” he mumbles.
“Right. Fake. Obviously.” I pull my hand back, suddenly very aware of what I just did. “Anyway. Tomorrow. Lunch. You’ll be there.”
“I’ll be there, Freckles.”
The nickname. He keeps using it like its nothing, and every single time, I like it a little more than I should.
We finish our tacos, falling back into easier conversation about the food trucks, the weather, random things that don’t involve fake dating or feelings or the way my heart keeps doing weird things when he looks at me.
But as we’re gathering our trash to leave, I catch myself watching him.
The way he smiles. The way his hair falls slightly over his forehead. The way he carefully stacks all our trash so it’s easier to throw away.
And I realize something terrifying.
This has nothing to do with Collin.
Inviting Micah to lunch tomorrow? That’s not about making my ex jealous.
That’s about wanting to see Micah again.
That’s about not wanting this—whatever this is—to end.
“You okay?” Micah asks, and I realize I’ve been staring.
“Yeah. Fine. Just thinking.”
“About?”
About how I might be falling for you and I have no idea what to do about it.
“About tomorrow,” I say instead. “But all is fine.”
“Gotcha.”
We walk to the parking lot, and when we reach our cars, there’s this awkward moment where neither of us knows how to say goodbye.
“So,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks again. For doing this.”
“Anytime, Harper.”
He climbs into his truck, and I watch him drive away, my heart doing that stupid flutter thing again.
I get in my car and pull out my phone. The group chat is already a disaster—twenty-seven unread messages, the most recent being Olivia sending a single question mark at 11:43 this morning.
Harper
Can you guys come over? Like now?
Ivy
I have been waiting for this text. On my way.
Olivia
Already in my car.
They arrive within ten minutes of each other, which means they were both already close, which means they were both already waiting. Olivia has a Sonic bag. Ivy has that look on her face—the one that means she has questions and has been physically restraining herself from asking them.
I barely get the door open before she says, “Finally.”
“Hello to you too.”
“Harper,” Olivia sets the Sonic bag on my counter and turns to face me with her full therapist posture, which she claims she doesn’t do outside of work. “We have been texting you constantly.”
“I was a bit busy.”
Ivy lowers herself onto the couch, one hand at her side. “Start from the beginning. From when you left your apartment. Leave nothing out.”
So I don’t.
I tell them everything—the gala, the kiss, Collin, the drive home, the next day, the glasses, all of it. Ivy asks three follow-up questions. Olivia asks none, which means she’s already forming opinions she’s waiting to share.
When I finish, the room is quiet for a beat.
Then Ivy says, “Okay. What’s the emergency?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Try again.
“I invited Micah to lunch tomorrow. With my principal. After church.”
Olivia is very still in the way she gets when she’s listening hard.
“And that’s the problem?” Ivy asks.
“That’s the problem.” I press my fingers to my forehead. “Because this whole thing started because of Collin. That was the point. Make him think I’d moved on, get through the gala, done. That was it.”
“But?” Olivia says.
“I don’t know.” And that’s the honest answer. “That’s what’s freaking me out. I don’t know.”