Chapter 6
The whiskey hummed, warm and sweet, behind Kelsey’s ribs. It was a good buzz, the kind that sanded the sharp edges off her anxiety and made her brave. Her hand rested on Elizabeth’s knee. The fabric of her pants was smooth, heated by Elizabeth’s body.
Elizabeth’s breathing hitched, a tiny, sharp sound lost in the bar’s noise.
Her posture went rigid. It was the same way she stood at the counter on days her jaw was tight and her order came out clipped.
Stressed. Kelsey’s thumb moved, a slow, deliberate circle against the expensive material. A test. A question.
Stay with me, she wanted to say. We can do this.
Elizabeth didn’t pull away. Her eyes locked on Kelsey’s, a storm of something unreadable brewing in their depths. It wasn’t annoyance. It was something closer to shock, as if a circuit had been tripped.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth’s voice was a low whisper, tight with control.
Kelsey leaned closer. “I’m being your girlfriend,” she murmured back, her own voice steadier than she felt. Her gaze flickered toward the man at the bar, Scott. He was still laughing, oblivious. “He needs to believe it. And you look like you are about to be cross-examined.”
A muscle in Elizabeth’s jaw jumped. Her gaze followed Kelsey’s to Scott, and when her eyes returned, the panic was gone. It was replaced by a hard, lawyerly sheen. But the tension in her leg remained, a live wire under Kelsey’s palm.
“Just try to look like you actually like me,” Kelsey added, the words bolder than she intended. She gave Elizabeth’s knee a soft squeeze.
Before Elizabeth could form a reply, it happened. Scott clapped his friend on the back, turned, and his gaze swept the room. His eyes landed on Elizabeth. They widened for a fraction of a second before an easy smile spread across his face. He pushed off the bar and started toward them.
A jolt of pure terror, cold and sharp, shot through Kelsey’s whiskey warmth. Okay, cool, we’re doing this.
“Showtime,” she breathed, not looking at Elizabeth. Instead, she leaned her head just a little closer to Elizabeth’s shoulder, a gesture of casual intimacy. Her hand stayed firmly on Elizabeth’s knee.
The man, Scott, stopped in front of them. He smelled of expensive cologne and beer. He was handsome in a generic, corporate way, with perfect teeth and a watch that probably cost more than Kelsey’s rent for a year.
“Elizabeth,” he said loudly. His eyes dropped to Kelsey, then to her hand on Elizabeth’s leg. He lingered for a beat too long before his gaze returned to Elizabeth’s face.
Scott’s eyebrows lifted, just slightly, as he waited.
The air between them thickened, heavy with the kind of silence that demanded to be filled.
Kelsey’s pulse thrummed in her throat, her fingers still pressed against Elizabeth’s knee.
She could feel the way Elizabeth’s breath had gone shallow, the way her thigh muscle tightened like a drawn bowstring.
Then Elizabeth exhaled, and the words came out smooth as polished stone.
“Scott, this is Kelsey.” A pause. A beat where Kelsey’s stomach flipped, her grip tightening imperceptibly. “My girlfriend.”
Kelsey’s chest warmed, a dangerous, spreading heat. She forced her lips into a smile, hoping it didn’t look as unsteady as it felt.
Elizabeth continued the introductions. “Kelsey, this is Scott. A colleague of mine.”
Scott’s gaze flicked back to Kelsey, reassessing. His smile widened, just a fraction too wide, the kind of grin people used when they were surprised but trying to play it cool. “Nice to meet you, Kelsey.”
“You too,” Kelsey said, her voice steady despite the way her heart was hammering. She gave Elizabeth’s knee one last, deliberate squeeze before sliding her hand away, letting her fingers trail just a second longer than necessary. A claim. A reminder. We’re doing this.
Elizabeth’s posture didn’t relax, but something in her shifted—her shoulders squared, her chin lifted just a little higher.
Like she’d been braced for impact and had somehow survived the collision.
Kelsey could practically see the gears turning behind her eyes, the lawyerly part of her brain already dissecting the interaction, filing away Scott’s reactions for later analysis.
Scott glanced between them, his expression flickering with something Kelsey couldn’t quite read—curiosity, maybe, or the faintest hint of skepticism. But his tone stayed light, easy. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone, Moretti.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved, not quite a smile, but close. “Well,” she said, her voice dry, “there’s a lot you don’t know.”
Kelsey bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. There she is. The real Elizabeth, sharp and unapologetic, peeking through the cracks of the performance.
Scott lingered for another few minutes before finally drifting back to his spot at the other end of the bar.
Kelsey took a sip of her drink, hiding her smile behind the rim. The ice cubes clinked against her teeth, but the heat in her chest wasn’t going anywhere. It was electric. It was ridiculous. It was the best Tuesday night of her entire life.
She had done it. She had touched Elizabeth Moretti’s leg, actually felt the heat of her skin through the fabric, felt the muscle tense and hold, and the world hadn’t ended.
Elizabeth hadn’t recoiled. She hadn’t looked at Kelsey with that polite, distant confusion.
She’d looked at Kelsey like a partner. Like a co-conspirator.
My girlfriend.
The words echoed in Kelsey’s head, brighter than the neon shamrock sign buzzing in the window.
It didn’t matter that it was a lie. It didn’t matter that it was a contractual obligation worth five thousand dollars, and an NDA signed in a wine bar.
For the last three minutes, Kelsey Reid had been the girlfriend of the most intimidatingly beautiful woman in Manhattan, and she had absolutely nailed the audition.
She set her glass down on the bar, feeling a little too loose in her limbs.
The whiskey was doing heavy lifting, sure, smoothing out the panic until it felt like confidence, but this high was mostly adrenaline.
She wasn’t supposed to be good at this. She should have been more nervous, more afraid.
Of messing up. Of Elizabeth realizing that she didn’t really need to do much acting.
But here she was. Sitting on a barstool at O’Neill’s, leaning into Elizabeth’s personal space as if she belonged there.
A warning flare went up in the back of her brain. The edges of the room were getting a little soft, blurry in a pleasant, dangerous way. She wrapped her fingers around her sweating whiskey glass, the cold condensation slick against her palm.
She needed to pace herself. Tipsy Kelsey was charming. She was brave and funny and tactile. Drunk Kelsey, however, was a liability. Drunk Kelsey had a history of over sharing. She couldn’t forget that this wasn’t real. And Drunk Kelsey absolutely would.
If she had one more drink, the filter would dissolve.
She’d lean too close. She’d admit that she volunteered not because she was a saint, but because the idea of Elizabeth going to that wedding alone made her chest ache physically.
That she’d have no problem pulling it off because she’d had a massive crush on Elizabeth for months.
She couldn’t do that.
Ground yourself. You’re working. This is a job.
“You’re smiling,” Elizabeth said.
Kelsey snapped back to the present. Elizabeth was watching her, one eyebrow arched. She looked tired, the lines around her eyes visible in the harsh bar lighting.
“I’m admiring my own performance,” Kelsey lied. Mostly. She tapped her fingers against the wood. “I think Scott bought it. I mean, he looked confused, but he bought it.”
“He looked shocked,” Elizabeth corrected dryly. She picked up her own drink, her movements precise, elegant. “He assumes I don’t have a life outside the firm. And he’s not entirely wrong.”
“Well,” Kelsey said, the reckless bravery flaring up again despite her warning to herself.
She shifted, her knee bumping Elizabeth’s.
She didn’t pull back. “We’re fixing that.
By the time we get to the wedding, you’re going to look like you have the most romantic personal life in the tri-state area. ”
Elizabeth stared at her over the rim of her glass. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but she didn’t move her leg away. The contact was a single, burning point of pressure in the noisy bar.
“Don’t overpromise, Kelsey,” Elizabeth said softly.
“I never overpromise,” Kelsey shot back, grinning because the whiskey wouldn’t let her be afraid.
The whiskey had left a pleasant, fuzzy warmth in Kelsey’s veins, but the water had brought her back to earth, just enough to realize she was happy.
Not the usual, fleeting kind, the quick hit of a good tip or a funny meme from Hailey.
This was something deeper, brighter. A giddy, dangerous kind of happiness.
It wasn’t real. She knew that. The contract had made that crystal clear. But for the first time in months, maybe years, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Sitting in a dimly lit bar, knee pressed against Elizabeth’s leg.
Elizabeth’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Another drink?”
Kelsey hesitated. The night was going too well. The whiskey had done its job. It had loosened her up, made her a little bold. But another round might tip her over the edge.
She shook her head, grinning. “Nah, I’m good. We both have work tomorrow, right?”
Elizabeth studied her for a long moment, then gave a single, slow nod. “Right.”
Kelsey slid off the stool, her boots hitting the floor with a quiet thud.
The bar was still loud, still crowded, but the noise felt distant now, like she was underwater.
She leaned in, close enough to catch the clean, sharp scent of Elizabeth’s perfume, close enough to see the faint lines at the corners of her eyes.
Her hand found Elizabeth’s neck as she leaned in. Elizabeth went very still.
Kelsey’s lips hovered near her ear, her breath warm against the shell of it. “I’m just gonna use the restroom before we go,” she murmured. “Practice checking me out.”
She pulled back just enough to catch the flicker of surprise in Elizabeth’s eyes—the way her pupils swallowed the dim bar light, the way her breath caught and held for a fraction too long.
Kelsey could still feel the warmth of Elizabeth’s skin beneath her fingertips, the faint tremor in her own hands as she turned away.
The crowd swallowed her instantly, bodies pressing close, laughter and clinking glasses muffling the hammering of her pulse in her ears. She didn’t look back. She didn’t dare.
The bathroom was a narrow, dimly lit space with two stalls and a sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a decade. Kelsey braced her hands on the edge of the counter, staring at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. She looked alive. She looked happy.
But it wasn’t real.
She splashed cold water on her wrists, the shock of it grounding her. This is a job. This is a favor. This is not your life.
Except it felt like her life. It felt like the best version of her life, the one she’d imagined in quiet moments behind the counter, watching Elizabeth walk in, wondering how it was possible for Elizabeth to always look so good no matter what she was wearing or how her hair was done.
Kelsey dried her hands, her fingers trembling just a little. She couldn’t get carried away. She couldn’t let herself forget that this was temporary, that in two weeks, Elizabeth would go back to her real life, and Kelsey would go back to making her coffee.
But for now?
For now, she could pretend.
And she might as well enjoy herself while she was at it.