Chapter 3
The chair creaked under the barista’s shifting weight. Elizabeth watched the way her throat worked as she swallowed. She was nervous. That much was obvious. But nervous people didn’t just offer to be someone’s fake girlfriend. Not without a reason.
Elizabeth leaned back slightly, the movement deliberate. She crossed her arms over her chest, the fabric of her blazer pulling taut, her eyes flickering down to her name tag.
Kelsey.
She studied Kelsey’s face—the flush high on her cheekbones, the way her dark eyes darted away before snapping back, as if she couldn’t decide whether to hold Elizabeth’s gaze or flee.
“You heard me,” Elizabeth said, her voice low. She let the words hang between them, heavy with implication. “And now you’re offering to help.”
Kelsey’s nod was quick, jerky. “Yeah. I mean—yes.”
Elizabeth had spent years in courtrooms, learning to read people.
She knew the way their bodies betrayed them, the way their words could be weapons or lies.
Kelsey was no different. She was young, probably late twenties or early thirties, with the kind of open, hopeful face that made people trust her.
But trust wasn’t something Elizabeth handed out freely.
“Why?” Elizabeth asked again, sharper this time. She didn’t bother softening the edge in her voice. “People don’t just offer to do things like this out of the goodness of their heart.”
Kelsey’s lips parted, then closed. “I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice quieter now. “You seemed… upset. And I know what it’s like to be in a bad spot. I just thought—”
“You thought what?” Elizabeth cut in. “That I’d be so desperate I’d take the first person who offered?”
Kelsey’s head snapped up, her dark eyes flashing. “No. That’s not—” She stopped, her chest rising unevenly. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I just want to help.”
Elizabeth studied her. Her defensiveness was genuine, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t an angle. There was always an angle. “Help,” Elizabeth repeated, testing the word. “And what do you get out of it?”
Kelsey blinked. “What?”
“Money,” Elizabeth said flatly. “That’s usually how these things work. You do something for me, I pay you.”
Kelsey’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked genuinely taken aback, as if the idea had never occurred to her. “I—I don’t want your money.”
Elizabeth almost laughed. Almost. “Everyone wants money.”
“Not like this.” Kelsey’s voice was firm now, her shoulders squaring. “I’m not asking for anything. I just… I like you. You’re a regular. You’re nice to me.”
Elizabeth’s fingers twitched against her arm. Nice to her. The words settled in her chest, uncomfortable. She wasn’t nice. She was polite. There was a difference. But Kelsey didn’t know that. Kelsey didn’t know her at all.
Elizabeth uncrossed her arms, letting her hands rest on the table. The wood was smooth under her palms, worn from years of use. She could feel the weight of Kelsey’s gaze on her, the way it lingered, as if waiting for an answer.
She should say no. This was madness. Not just a bad idea, but clinically unsound, like something one of her junior associates would suggest after one too many martinis at the firm holiday party. It was the kind of thing that happened in bad movies, not in real life. Not in her life.
But then she thought of Grace. Of the wedding. Of the way her ex-wife had looked at her last night. Of how genuinely happy she’d seemed to find out that she was seeing someone.
Her jaw tightened.
Elizabeth exhaled slowly, the words forming carefully in her mind before she let them out.
“If we were to do this,” she said, measuring each syllable like she was presenting terms to a jury, “it wouldn’t be some half-baked arrangement.
” She couldn’t believe she was actually saying these words.
“It would need to be structured. Documented.” She caught herself before saying ‘legally binding,’ though the thought lingered at the back of her tongue. “Professional.”
Kelsey’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her lips parting in what might have been surprise or amusement.
Elizabeth couldn’t quite tell. “Professional?” The word curled at the edges with something warm and teasing, completely at odds with the sterile precision Elizabeth was trying to impose on the situation.
“Yes.” Elizabeth straightened in her chair, her shoulders squaring automatically as her mind raced ahead, already drafting clauses in her head.
The lawyer in her took over, slotting this absurd scenario into familiar frameworks.
“There would need to be clear rules. Defined expectations. A contract.” The word landed between them with finality.
Kelsey’s lips twitched, just slightly. “You want to write a contract for this?”
Elizabeth ignored the amusement in her voice. “I don’t do things without clear terms. If you’re serious, then we do this properly. Or not at all.”
Kelsey was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay.”
Elizabeth studied her face, looking for hesitation. There was none. Just… agreement.
She should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt something else entirely, something sharp and unfamiliar, like the first prick of a needle.
She pushed the feeling aside.
Elizabeth took a sip of coffee. She should have been at the office by now, not sitting in a café making deals with a barista.
This was a terrible idea. A truly awful idea.
She looked at Kelsey. She was watching her with an expression that was equal parts hope and uncertainty. Her dark eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, as if she were waiting for Elizabeth to either laugh in her face or agree.
She looked young. Too young. The kind of young that made Elizabeth feel every one of her forty-eight years.
The question burned in her chest. Which was worse? Walking into Grace’s wedding alone, vulnerable under the weight of all those pitying glances? Or letting them whisper behind their champagne flutes about how she was having a mid-life crisis?
Neither option was good. But one, at least, let her keep her dignity intact.
She studied the woman who’d been making her coffee for months now. Why was she nervous? But there was something else there too—determination. Like she had already made up her mind and was just waiting for Elizabeth to catch up.
“Fine,” Elizabeth said, the word sharp. She reached into her bag, her movements precise, and pulled out a sleek black business card.
She slid it across the table toward Kelsey.
“Text me your number. I’ll send you the address of a wine bar near here.
If I’m still interested, I’ll draw up a contract and we can go over it. ”
Kelsey’s eyes flicked down to the card, then back up to Elizabeth’s face. She hesitated, then reached for the card. “When?”
Elizabeth glanced at her watch, the movement automatic. “This evening. At seven. Are you free?”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth stood, her chair scraping against the floor. She smoothed her blazer, the fabric crisp under her palms. She should have felt relieved. Instead, she felt like she had just made a deal with the devil.
She gathered her things and turned to leave, then paused. “And Kelsey?”
Kelsey looked up at her, her dark eyes wide.
“This stays between us,” Elizabeth said, her voice low. “No one else can know. Not your friends, not your family. No one.”
Kelsey swallowed, then nodded. “I understand.”
Elizabeth studied her for a long moment, then turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor. She didn’t look back.
Outside, the city hummed around her, the sounds of traffic and conversation filling the air. Elizabeth pulled her phone from her bag, her fingers moving automatically as she pulled up her calendar. She had a meeting in twenty minutes. A deposition at eleven.
She should forget this whole ridiculous idea.
But her mind was already racing ahead, drafting the terms of the contract in her head. The fee. The expectations.
She was a lawyer. This was what she did.
And if it saved her from humiliation at Grace’s wedding, then it was worth the risk.