Chapter 5
The pen rolled between Elizabeth’s fingers. She should have been relieved. The contract was signed. The problem was solved. But instead, her stomach twisted, a slow, uneasy coil.
Kelsey leaned back, the movement easy, like this was just another conversation.
Like she hadn’t just agreed to pretend to be Elizabeth’s girlfriend for her ex-wife’s wedding.
Like she hadn’t just signed her name beneath a list of rules and expectations that made Elizabeth’s chest tighten every time she thought about them.
“So,” Kelsey said, swirling the wine in her glass, “tell me about the wedding. Where is it? Who’s going to be there?”
Elizabeth should have felt in control. She was in control. This was her plan, her solution. But the way Kelsey was looking at her, expectant and curious like this was just another story to be told, made her fingers twitch.
“It’s at Briarwood Lodge,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady. “Two hours outside the city. Grace is marrying Charlotte. Another lawyer.”
Kelsey’s eyebrows lifted. “Another lawyer? So I need to have some good lawyer jokes ready?”
Elizabeth blinked. “No.”
Kelsey grinned, quick and bright. “I’m kidding. See? This is why we need to spend time together. You missed my sense of humor.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around her glass. She took a drink, the wine sharp on her tongue. She hated that Kelsey was right. Hated that she hadn’t thought this through. That she was already second-guessing herself.
“When do you want to meet again?” Elizabeth asked, her voice cooler than she intended.
Kelsey’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened, like she knew exactly what Elizabeth was thinking. “Right now.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Now?”
“Hmm.” Kelsey set her glass down, her fingers tapping against the table. “We’re already out. Why call it a night just because I signed your contract? Where do your colleagues go after work? There’s got to be a few bars where you’ll see people you know.”
Elizabeth’s pulse jumped. “I’m not sure—”
“Won’t some of them be at the wedding?” Kelsey cut in, her voice light but firm. “Or was there no overlap?”
Elizabeth’s throat went dry. She knocked back the rest of her wine, the liquid burning all the way down.
Of course there was overlap. Of course there were people who knew Grace, who knew her.
People who would expect to see Elizabeth alone.
People who would notice if she suddenly showed up with someone new.
Kelsey was right.
Elizabeth set her glass down with deliberate care. “There’s a place near the firm. An Irish bar. A few of the partners go there after work.”
Kelsey’s grin turned triumphant. “Perfect. Let’s go.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. “Now?”
“Why not?” Kelsey stood, grabbing her bag. “The sooner we start, the better, right?”
Elizabeth didn’t move. She should have said no. She should have insisted they wait, that they plan this properly. But Kelsey was already waiting, her expression expectant, her posture relaxed, like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Kelsey held out her hand, palm up, fingers slightly curled.
Elizabeth didn’t take it.
Instead, she stood, smoothing her blazer before reaching for her bag. Then she was striding towards the door and pulling it open for Kelsey.
The door to O’Neill’s swung shut behind them, the noise of the bar hitting Elizabeth like a wall.
Laughter, clinking glasses, the low hum of conversation—all of it too loud, too bright.
She scanned the room in one quick sweep, her gaze snagging on Scott at the far end of the bar.
He was leaning against the wood, tie loosened, a pint in hand, talking to someone from tax.
His back was to them, but it wouldn’t stay that way.
Kelsey stepped past her, close enough that Elizabeth caught the scent of her. Something sweet, like vanilla, but not overpowering. Not like the perfume Grace used to wear, the kind that lingered in a room long after she left.
“Back corner,” Elizabeth said, nodding toward a booth tucked near the dartboards. “We’ll have more privacy.”
Kelsey didn’t even glance that way. “No one will see us back there.”
Elizabeth’s fingers twitched. “That’s the point.”
Kelsey turned, her expression unreadable. “If we’re hiding, it’ll look suspicious. We need to be where people can see us.”
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like the logic, didn’t like the way Kelsey was already calling the shots. But Kelsey was right. Again.
She made her way toward the bar, picking two stools at the far end, as close to the door as possible. Far enough from Scott that he might not notice them. Close enough to the exit that she could bolt if this went sideways.
Kelsey slid onto the stool beside her, her knee brushing Elizabeth’s thigh. Elizabeth shifted, putting an inch of space between them.
“This doesn’t seem like a place to order wine,” Kelsey said, her voice light, like she was commenting on the weather.
“No,” Elizabeth agreed.
Kelsey leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar. “What are you having? I’ll get this round.”
Elizabeth’s fingers curled around the edge of the stool. She didn’t want Kelsey buying her drinks.
“Whiskey,” she said. “On the rocks.”
Kelsey’s eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t say anything.
Elizabeth watched as Kelsey flagged down the bartender, her movements easy, confident. Like she belonged here. Like she belonged anywhere.
The bartender slid two glasses toward them: a short, heavy tumbler filled with amber whiskey and a cube of ice for Elizabeth, and a tall, thin highball ringing with ice and the warm copper color of whiskey and ginger ale for Kelsey. Kelsey pushed the heavy tumbler toward Elizabeth,
“So,” Kelsey said, swirling her drink. “Tell me about Grace.”
Elizabeth’s stomach clenched. She took a sip of whiskey, the burn grounding her. “What about her?”
Kelsey tilted her head. “What’s she like? What do I need to know?”
Elizabeth set the glass down. “She’s a lawyer. Sharp. Ambitious.”
“Like you.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the glass. “Not like me.”
Kelsey studied her, her expression unreadable. “Okay. What else?”
Elizabeth hesitated. She didn’t want to do this. She really didn’t want to dig up the past. But if they were going to sell this, Kelsey needed to know.
“She’s slightly older then me. She just turned fifty,” Elizabeth said finally. “Dark auburn hair. She’s athletic. Great golfer. Not bad at tennis either.”
Kelsey’s lips quirked. “So, nothing like me.”
The whiskey burned a path down Elizabeth’s throat, smooth and sharp at once. Kelsey’s question hung between them, light but loaded, the kind of thing that could unravel if she didn’t handle it right.
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked over Kelsey before she could stop herself. The blonde hair falling loose past her shoulders. The curve of her mouth. The way she sat, relaxed and open, like she had nothing to hide.
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Nothing like you.”
Kelsey’s fingers traced the rim of her glass. “Is that a problem?”
Elizabeth’s throat went tight. She should say yes. She should tell Kelsey that this was a terrible idea, that no one would believe they were together, that the entire premise was absurd.
Instead, she took another drink. “No.”
“And what about the new woman?”
“Charlotte is around the same age as Grace,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady. “Maybe a little older. She’s good for Grace. They have work in common, but not in the way we did.”
Kelsey’s fingers traced the rim of her glass, her expression shifting, something serious flickering behind her eyes before she smoothed it away. “And how was that?”
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened. “It drove us apart.”
Kelsey didn’t push. Instead, she tilted her head, that hint of a smile returning, sharp and knowing. “Are you worried about what people will think of me?”
Elizabeth’s fingers stilled. “That you’re not a lawyer?”
Kelsey’s laugh was quiet, almost a breath. “Hmm. But more specifically… My age.”
The question landed like a stone in Elizabeth’s stomach. She reached for her glass again, the whiskey suddenly less appealing. “And what age is that?”
“Thirty-one.”
Elizabeth’s grip tightened. Thirty-one. Half her age, nearly.
The numbers settled in her chest, heavy and undeniable.
She could feel the weight of the years between them.
The lines around her own eyes, the way her body ached after long days in court, the quiet certainty that she was past the point of being someone’s first anything.
Kelsey’s smile didn’t waver. “This is the part where you tell me your age.”
Elizabeth set the glass down. “I’m forty-eight.”
Kelsey’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes did, something softer, almost curious. “I know my friends can’t know about this, but if they did, they wouldn’t question it.”
Elizabeth’s laugh was dry. “You’re into older women?”
“This isn’t about what I’m into,” Kelsey said, her voice low but steady. “It’s about what they need to believe.”
Elizabeth didn’t like the way Kelsey’s words settled in her chest, heavy and warm. She also didn’t like the way her pulse jumped when Kelsey’s knee brushed against hers again, deliberate this time.
Kelsey’s lips quirked, just slightly. “They need to believe that we’re together. That it’s real.” She held her gaze. “People notice details. The way you look at someone. The way you touch them. The way you don’t touch them.”
Elizabeth was beginning to feel like she was a defendant on the stand and Kelsey was the prosecutor, dismantling her piece by piece.
“Fine,” Elizabeth said, her voice tight. “What do we need to do?”
Kelsey’s grin widened, quick and triumphant. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Elizabeth’s wrist, light but deliberate. “First, you have to stop flinching every time I touch you.”