6. Katie
— ? —
Katie
Okay, that’s dramatic. But watching Henry’s face go pale as he checks the security camera isn’t exactly reassuring.
“Who is it?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the screen like it’s showing him his own death.
“Henry. WHO IS IT?”
“My friends from London.”
“Your what?”
“James and Sophie. Mason and Tina. David and...” He closes his eyes. “They weren’t supposed to be here until next month.”
The doorbell rings again. Then a voice booms through the intercom.
“WILSON! We know you’re in there! Open up, you hermit!”
“Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?” I ask.
“Because they think we’re dating and a hermit with a date is breaking news.”
“We ARE dating. Fake dating. That’s the whole point.”
“They’ve known me for fifteen years, Katie. They can smell a lie from across the Atlantic.” He turns to face me, and there’s genuine panic in his eyes. “If they figure out this is an arrangement, they will never, EVER let me hear the end of it.”
“So we’ll be convincing.”
“You don’t understand. Sophie is like a human lie detector. She figured out Mason was planning to propose three months before he did it. She knew James was getting fired before JAMES knew he was getting fired.”
The doorbell rings a third time.
“HENRY WILSON, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR IN TEN SECONDS, I’M USING THE EMERGENCY KEY!”
“They have an emergency key?”
“I gave it to them five years ago. I was going through a... dark period. Long story short, I lost a big deal.” He grabs my shoulders, and his grip is almost frantic. “Please. Just follow my lead. One night. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Fine. ONE night.”
He releases me and buzzes them up.
The next three minutes are a blur of hugs and screaming and British accents so thick I can barely understand half of what anyone’s saying.
James is tall and blond with the energy of a golden retriever.
Sophie is tiny and dark-haired with sharp eyes that immediately land on me like a heat-seeking missile.
Mason looks like a rugby player who got lost on his way to a modeling shoot.
Tina has the kind of effortless elegance that makes me feel like a gremlin.
David rounds out the group with a beard and a booming laugh.
“So THIS is the mysterious Katie!” Sophie pushes past Henry and grabs both my hands. “We’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, which means Henry is completely smitten.”
“I... what?”
“He never talks about the ones he actually likes. It’s infuriating.” She studies my face with unnerving intensity. “You’re pretty. Not his usual type, but pretty.”
“What’s his usual type?”
“Boring.” She grins. “You don’t look boring.”
“Sophie.” Henry’s voice is strained. “Maybe let the woman breathe before you interrogate her?”
“I’m not interrogating! I’m getting to know my best friend’s girlfriend!
” She loops her arm through mine like we’ve known each other for years.
“Come on, Katie. Tell me everything. How did you two meet? How long have you been together? Is he as emotionally constipated with you as he is with everyone else?”
I shoot Henry a desperate look.
He mouths “I’m sorry” and gets immediately tackled by James demanding to know why he looks “less miserable than usual.”
***
Two hours later, I’m exhausted.
Sophie has extracted my entire life story, carefully edited to exclude the words “fake” and “revenge.” She knows I was married before. She knows it ended badly. She knows Henry and I met through family connections and “bonded over shared trauma.”
Not technically a lie.
“So where’s everyone sleeping?” Mason stretches out on the couch like he owns the place. “Please tell me you’ve finally furnished the guest rooms.”
Henry goes very still.
“The guest rooms are... being renovated.”
“All of them?”
“There was a pipe issue. Water damage.”
I blink. That’s news to me.
“So where are WE supposed to sleep?” Tina asks.
“I’ve booked you suites at the Langham. My treat. Very luxurious.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sophie waves her hand dismissively. “We didn’t fly six thousand miles to stay at a hotel. We’ll make do here. James and I can take the couch. Mason and Tina can have the... what is that, a daybed in the study?”
“It’s a reading nook.”
“Same thing. David can take the floor somewhere. We’re not picky.”
“Sophie, really, the hotel is much more comfortable...”
“Henry.” Her eyes narrow. “Why are you trying so hard to get rid of us?”
Silence.
Everyone’s looking at him now. Even I’m looking at him, because I genuinely don’t understand what’s happening.
“I’m not trying to get rid of you. I just want you to be comfortable. I could just upgrade so you could have your own butlers at the hotel.”
“We’ll be comfortable here. With you. And your girlfriend.” Sophie’s gaze flicks between us. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling us?”
The tension in the room is suffocating.
“Fine.” Henry’s voice is flat. “Stay here. Make yourselves at home.”
“Wonderful!” Sophie claps her hands. “Now, where’s Katie sleeping? I assume you two are sharing a room by now?”
My heart stops.
“We...” I start.
“Of course we are.” Henry’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me against his side. “She’s in the master bedroom. With me.”
Sophie’s eyebrows rise. “Really?”
“Why is that surprising?”
“Because you’ve never let anyone sleep in your bedroom. You made Rebecca stay in another room for two months.”
“Katie’s different.”
Sophie studies us for a long moment. Then a slow smile spreads across her face.
“Well then. This I have to see.”
***
Bedtime comes too fast.
I’m standing in Henry’s bathroom, staring at my reflection, trying not to hyperventilate.
His bathroom. HIS bathroom. The one attached to HIS bedroom where his MASSIVE bed is waiting for both of us.
“This is insane,” I whisper to myself. “This is absolutely insane.”
We spent twenty frantic minutes smuggling my things into his closet before Sophie could go exploring.
A soft knock on the door.
“Katie? Are you okay in there?”
“Fine! Just... getting ready!”
I splash water on my face and try to get my heart rate under control.
It’s just sleeping. Just lying unconscious next to another human being. People do it all the time. Married people, dating people and friends on road trips.
Friends who are fake-dating to get revenge on their cheating exes and are now trapped in an elaborate lie by well-meaning British people. Totally normal.
I open the door.
Henry is standing by the bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking almost as panicked as I feel. That makes me feel slightly better.
“We can tell them the truth,” I blurt out. “We can say we’re not really...”
“They’ve known me for fifteen years. If they find out I’m faking a relationship to get revenge on my nephew, James will mock me until the day I die.” He runs a hand through his hair. “One night. We share a bed for one night. Nothing happens. We just sleep.”
“Just sleep.”
“On opposite sides. Complete separation. Like two strangers on a very expensive mattress. Or would you prefer me on the floor?”
“Fine. I can’t let the owner sleep on the floor.”
Neither of us moves.
“So should we...” I gesture vaguely at the bed.
“Right. Yes. Bed.” He walks to the far side and pulls back the covers. “I’ll take this side. You can have the side closer to the bathroom.”
“How chivalrous.”
“I try.”
I climb in on my side.
The bed is enormous. I could fit three of me between us and still have room to spare. The sheets are some kind of insanely soft material.
Henry turns off the lamp and we welcome the darkness.
I lie there, rigid, staring at the ceiling.
“You’re not breathing,” he says.
“I’m breathing.”
“You’re holding your breath. I can tell.”
“Maybe because there’s a MAN in my BED.”
“Technically, you’re in MY bed.”
“Not helping, Henry.”
Silence.
“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers.
“Don’t be stupid.”
More silence.
The mattress shifts slightly as he adjusts his position. His arm brushes against mine. My entire body lights up like a live wire.
“Sorry.” His voice is tight.
“It’s fine.”
It’s not fine. My skin is tingling where he touched me, and my heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman, I’ve shared beds before. I was MARRIED, for God’s sake. One accidental arm brush shouldn’t make me feel like a teenager at a sleepover.
But Henry isn’t Kyle.
Henry is... something else entirely.
“Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you called me.” His voice is soft. “That day after the courthouse. When you said you wanted to make Kyle pay.”
“You are?”
“I was sitting in my office, going through the motions, convincing myself that staying out of it was the right thing.” A pause. “Then my phone rang, and you were on the other end, and you sounded so... broken. And angry. And alive.”
I don’t know what to say.
“I spent ten years avoiding anything that might make me feel something. After Rebecca, I just... shut down. Built my company. Made my money. Kept everyone at arm’s length.
” His voice drops lower. “But when I heard your voice that day, something cracked open. Something I thought I’d sealed shut for good. ”
My throat is tight.
“I’m glad I called too,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“You’re the only person who believed me. The only one who didn’t look at me like I was crazy.” I swallow hard. “That meant everything, Henry. It still does.”
Then, so quietly I almost miss it, “You’re not crazy, Katie. You’re the sanest person I know.”
“That’s a low bar, considering your friends downstairs.”
He laughs softly. “Fair point.”
The tension breaks, just a little. I feel my shoulders start to relax.
“I haven’t shared a bed with anyone since Kyle. Not even when we were together, toward the end. He said I moved too much in my sleep. Said I was disruptive.” I stare at the ceiling. “I believed him. I thought I was the problem so I did the right thing.”
Henry is quiet for a moment.
“You’re not disruptive. And even if you were, that’s not a reason to banish someone to a separate room.”
“Easy to say when you haven’t experienced my unconscious starfishing.”
“Your what?”
“Starfishing. When you spread out like a starfish and take up the entire bed.”
“Is that a real thing?”
“According to Kyle, it’s a medical condition.”
“Kyle is an idiot.”
I laugh.
“He really is, isn’t he?”
“The biggest idiot I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of idiots.”
We’re both laughing now as the total absurdity of the fake relationship, the British invasion downstairs, and the two of us lying in the dark debating my starfishing problem bubbles over, turning a potentially awkward situation into something effortless.
“Hey, Henry?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for not being boring.”
“High praise. But no need to keep thanking me every day.”
“I’ll say it every day. Your fault for being too kind.”
I roll onto my side, facing him even though I can barely see anything in the dark.
“Goodnight, Henry.”
“Goodnight, Katie.”
Silence falls again, but it’s warmer now.
***
I wake up slowly into a deep sense of warmth and safety that I haven’t experienced in longer than I can remember, gradually realizing there’s something solid pressed against my back and a heavy weight draped over my waist.
I blink my eyes open.
Morning light streams through the curtains. The clock on the nightstand reads 7:36 AM.
And Henry Wilson is wrapped around me like a human blanket.
His chest is pressed against my back, arm curled around my waist, breath warm and steady against my hair.
Any second now, I’m going to roll away and pretend this never happened.
Any second.
But he’s so warm. And I’m so comfortable. And his arm tightens slightly, pulling me closer, and a small sound escapes his throat that sounds almost like contentment.
I close my eyes.
Just five more minutes of pretending this is real.
Behind me, Henry stirs. I feel the moment he wakes up, the moment he realizes our position.
His whole body goes rigid.
“Katie.” His voice is rough with sleep. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll move.”
“You don’t have to.”
Neither of us moves.
His arm is still around my waist. My back is still pressed to his chest. We’re breathing in tandem, and I can feel his heart pounding against my spine.
“Katie.” His voice is barely a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“I think we might have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
His hand flexes against my stomach slightly. Enough to make my breath catch.
“The kind where I don’t want to let go.”
My heart stops. Then starts again, twice as fast.
“Maybe that’s not a problem,” I whisper.
“No?”
“Maybe that’s just... something we deal with later.”
His exhale is shaky. Warm against my neck.
“Later sounds good.”
We stay there, tangled together, as the morning light grows brighter.
Neither of us moves. Neither of us wants to.