Chapter 4 #2
If they didn’t fix this, Elizabeth’s ex-wife would take one look at them and know. And then Elizabeth would be humiliated, and Kelsey would be the reason why. The thought made her stomach twist. She couldn’t let that happen.
Elizabeth’s fingers stilled on the table. “I assumed we could go over the details in the car. Or draft a list of cover stories tonight.”
“But what if—what’s your ex’s name again?”
“Grace.”
“What if Grace asks how we met? Or what our first date was like?”
Elizabeth went very still. The air between them shifted, thickened. Kelsey could see the moment it clicked for her—the realization that this wasn’t just about showing up and playing a part. It was about convincing people. About making it feel real.
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened, the muscle flexing just beneath the skin.
Kelsey watched it, fascinated, the way the light from the lamp caught the sharp angle of her cheekbone, the way her lips pressed into a thin line.
“I can draft a new contract,” Elizabeth said, her voice low and precise, like she was already mentally drafting the clauses. “Add a rehearsal clause.”
Kelsey could practically see the gears turning in Elizabeth’s head—legalese, boundaries, control.
That wasn’t what she wanted. Not for this.
She shook her head. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, her voice softer than she intended.
“We don’t need to make it official. We can just…
meet again. Like this. Casually.” She gestured vaguely between them.
“Get to know each other better. Like, actually talk. Not just about this contract.”
Elizabeth’s gaze didn’t waver. It was unnerving, the way she could just look at someone, like she was dissecting their words before they’d even finished speaking.
“You’re asking for more time,” she said, and Kelsey could hear the hesitation beneath the words, the careful way Elizabeth was measuring each syllable.
Kelsey forced herself to hold Elizabeth’s gaze, even as her pulse thrummed in her throat.
“I’m not asking for more time or more money,” she said, her voice steady despite the way her heart was hammering.
“I’m asking for this to work.” She swallowed hard, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
“If we’re going to do this… if I’m going to stand there next to you in front of all those people, I don’t want to mess it up.
I don’t want to be the reason Grace looks at you and wonders what you see in me or how we could possibly be together.
” The idea of it, of failing Elizabeth like that, made her chest ache.
“I want it to feel…” She trailed off, searching for the right word, trying desperately to keep her crush in check and be serious for a moment.
“I want it to be believable. I want there to be zero doubt about us.”
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to the contract, then back to Kelsey. “You’re taking this very seriously.”
“Aren’t you?”
Elizabeth didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached for her wine, taking a slow sip.
Her own wineglass sat forgotten between her fingers.
If today hadn’t already been crazy enough.
She still couldn’t believe that not even twelve hours ago, she’d been crazy enough to sit down across from Elizabeth, uninvited, and volunteer to do this.
She had no idea how she’d gotten through her shift.
The rest of her day had been a blur—steamed milk splashing over the rim of a cup, the hiss of the espresso machine drowning out her own thoughts, the way her hands had trembled just enough to make the latte art look like a child’s scribble instead of the neat heart she’d been aiming for.
Hailey had been in the back, thank god. If she’d seen Kelsey sitting across from Elizabeth, offering to be her fake girlfriend like some kind of desperate romantic comedy cliché, she would’ve lost her mind.
And Kelsey couldn’t tell her. About any of this.
That might be just as hard as keeping her feelings in check.
Elizabeth set her glass down. “I am taking this seriously,” she said, her voice low. “That’s why I need to know you understand the stakes.”
The wineglass felt heavier than it should have. Kelsey wrapped her fingers around the stem, the cool condensation slick against her skin. She lifted it, the liquid inside trembling just enough to betray her. Her throat was dry, but she forced herself to take a sip anyway.
Elizabeth watched her, those gray-blue eyes unreadable. Waiting.
Kelsey set the glass down with deliberate care, her fingers lingering on the rim. “I do understand the stakes,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “That’s why I want to do this right. If we’re going to pretend, we should at least make it convincing.”
Elizabeth didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Kelsey’s pulse jumped. She took another sip, the alcohol doing nothing to steady her.
Then, before she could overthink it, she set the glass down and met Elizabeth’s gaze. “Do you have a pen?”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted, just a fraction. “A pen?”
Kelsey nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Yes. A pen. I want to sign it.”
Elizabeth hesitated for half a second before reaching into her bag. She pulled out a sleek black pen and slid it across the table.
Kelsey picked it up, her fingers brushing against the smooth metal. Her hand shook—just a little—but she signed her name. Kelsey Reid.
She set the pen down and pushed the contract back toward Elizabeth, her fingers lingering on the edge of the paper for a second too long. Then she reached for her wine again, her throat tight.
Elizabeth didn’t so much as shift in her seat.
Her eyes stayed locked on Kelsey, tracking every tiny movement—the nervous flick of fingers against the glass stem, the way Kelsey’s lips trembled briefly after the sip.
The contract might as well not exist between them, the ink barely dry on the page where she’d signed away her common sense in swooping script.
Kelsey took another sip of wine. It didn’t cool the flush creeping up her neck or the frantic tempo of her pulse pounding in her wrists. The silence stretched, thick with all the unspoken things clawing up her throat.
This is insane. I can’t believe I just did this. I might actually vomit.
Elizabeth finally looked down, her fingers brushing the edge of the contract. She swallowed, her throat working, and Kelsey caught the way her shoulders tensed, just for a second, before she smoothed out the paper and tucked it back into the folder.
Kelsey’s ribs squeezed like a hand had wrapped around them, but beneath it, something lighter flickered, something reckless and bright.
She raised her glass, her voice too quick, too bright, like she was toasting a friend’s birthday, not the fact that she’d just signed up to play pretend with the woman who’d been living rent free in her head for months.
“To us,” Kelsey said, and the words sent a shiver down her spine.
Because for all the panic, for all the ways this could go wrong, a twisted, giddy part of her was already loving this.
Already imagining the way Elizabeth’s hand might rest on her waist, the way people would look at them and think, Of course. They fit.
Elizabeth’s mouth moved, not quite a smile but not quite nothing. “To us,” she echoed.
Kelsey took another sip, the wine doing nothing to calm the storm inside her. The panic was still there, coiled tight, but underneath it, something warmer unfurled. Because for two days, she would be Elizabeth’s. She’d stand beside her, touch her, laugh with her like it was real.
She couldn’t believe she’d just agreed to this.
And she couldn’t wait.