Chapter 15
INA
Iwoke up Thursday morning feeling almost human again. Still tired. Still a little achy. But the fever had broken sometime during the night, and I could breathe through my nose again, which felt like a miraculous gift from the universe.
I would never take breathing for granted again. No more dreams of going to space for me. I was staying on Earth where the oxygen is.
I shuffled out to the kitchen to find Abby making coffee, still in her pajamas, which was unusual. She usually wasn’t awake so early.
“You’re alive,” she said, looking up from the French press. “I was starting to wonder if I should check your pulse.”
“Barely alive. But alive. Thanks for your germs.” I collapsed at our small kitchen table, wrapping my robe tighter around myself. “Why are you awake?”
“My shift ended early yesterday, so I went to sleep at a normal hour for a change.” She poured me a cup of coffee and slid it across the table. “Which means we have time to talk. I have questions.”
I froze with my coffee cup halfway to my lips. “What?” I said, trying to sound casual. “What could you possibly have questions about?”
“You know exactly what I want to know about,” she said, shaking her head and grinning. “You had dinner with Dane, your boss. And you two looked awfully cozy.”
“That dessert was amazing, by the way,” I said, hoping to skate past it. “And that bread? I’m upset you’ve never brought any home for me before. Now that’s something I have questions about.”
Abby put her hands on her hips. “If you want stolen bread, fess up about your boss.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Ugh, well why not? He’s hot as fuck and he’s clearly into you. If you haven’t pounced on that man, can I take a crack at him?”
“You back off,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Well, well, well,” Abby said, grinning again. “You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you?”
I groaned and put my head down on the table. “I can’t talk about it. You can’t interrogate a sick woman. It’s unfair.”
“Oh, we have ways to make you talk,” Abby joked.
“I signed an NDA.”
My roommate went completely still. “For what? Are you fucking your boss or working for the CIA?”
“Neither, I promise.” I lifted my head and looked at her, weighing my options. I could keep lying, but Abby was my best friend in this city.
If I couldn’t trust her, who could I trust?
“Okay,” I said slowly. “But you have to swear—and I mean swear—that this doesn’t leave this apartment.”
“I swear on my chef’s knife collection.”
I took a deep breath and told her everything. The commercial. The fake relationship. The carefully orchestrated dates and staged photographs. Lucas’s PR campaign. The raise and the Cupid’s Arrow membership and the whole elaborate scheme to generate buzz for the Valentine’s Day launch.
When I finished, Abby was staring at me with her mouth open.
“Let me get this straight,” she said finally. “You’re fake dating your boss. For money and health insurance for me. And it’s all to sell a dating app.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds kind of shady.”
“Ina, it’s shady as hell,” she said.
“I know!” I buried my face in my hands. “I know it’s insane. But how could I say no? In this economy?”
Abby sighed. “Be honest with me about something. Is this really all fake for you?”
“The dating thing? Yes. Of course. He’s my boss. It’s just for the campaign.”
“Okay, but…” She tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy. “You talk about him differently than you talk about anyone else. You get this look when you mention him. And now he’s bringing you soup when you’re sick.”
“I was sick and he was being nice.” I waved my hand. “It means nothing.”
“I saw you two at Candelabra. You have a crush on him.”
“What I have is bills to—” I started to protest, then stopped.
Because I had been asking myself the exact same questions Abby was. Did I have a crush on Dane?
I thought about dinner at the restaurant. The way we’d talked for hours. It had all felt so easy and natural. It was so easy to be with him. It certainly didn’t feel forced or fake.
I thought about him showing up at my apartment yesterday with soup, sitting in my living room and risking his own health for mine. That was definitely a boyfriend move.
And more importantly, I had to acknowledge the way I looked forward to seeing him every day at work. That wasn’t a normal way to think about my boss.
“Oh no,” I whispered.
Abby’s grin widened. “Or is it oh yes?”
“I like him.” I said it out loud, testing the words. “I like Dane. Kind of a lot.”
Abby clapped once and pointed at me. “I freaking knew it. I brought you a triple-layer tiramisu and you only had eyes for Dane. You’ve got it bad, little lady.”
“But it’s fake. The whole thing is fake.
It’s a business arrangement. He doesn’t want a girlfriend.
He has made it very clear he doesn’t want a relationship in any way, shape, or form, and that was long before I came into his life.
He’s not about to change for me.” I slumped forward onto the table. “I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re a romantic who agreed to pretend to date someone you’re attracted to. This was basically inevitable.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t feel the same way.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I lifted my head. “He told me love isn’t real. That relationships are transactions. He built Cupid’s Arrow on the principle that everything is just give and take.”
“And then he brought you soup when you were sick,” she said, nodding. “What was Dane getting out of that, if this is all transactional?”
“Nothing, I guess. He was just being a decent human.”
“The man has a reputation for being about as emotionally available as a brick wall. But he brought you soup in the middle of what I imagine would be a very busy workday.”
That was a valid point.
“And he sat with you while you were gross and sick.”
I gave her a dry look. “Don’t make me cough on you. I don’t know if I can give you back the bug you gave me, but we can find out.”
Abby took two steps back from me. “I’m just saying maybe pay attention to what he does, not just what he says.”
I wanted to believe her. It would be nice to think he wasn’t just good at acting.
But I’d seen the NDA. I agreed to the terms. I knew this ended on Valentine’s Day, and then I’d go back to being his assistant and he’d go back to being my boss and we’d both pretend none of this had ever happened.
“I need to be more careful,” I said quietly. “I need to remember this has an expiration date. I’m Cinderella at the ball and the clock is ticking down to midnight.”
Abby looked at me with something like pity. “Honey, love doesn’t have an expiration date.”
I scoffed. “Who said anything about love?”
“Affection then. I’m still right.”
“I know,” I said, sitting up straighter. “That’s why I have to turn these feelings off now.”
“Easier said than done.”
I glanced up at her. “I can do it.”
“You’re going to be working with him every day,” she said. “It’s going to be tough.”
I groaned. “Well, that’s just lovely.”
“That’s just life. Do you think there’s any chance you guys might actually have a relationship? Because I don’t think you’re the only one getting in too deep with this.”
I snorted and immediately started coughing. “No.” I shook my head. “I know it’s not in the cards. He’s rich and gorgeous and could be dating any woman he wanted to. He’s not about to settle for little old me. No way.”
“Girl, hello? The heart wants what it wants,” she said. “Love shows up whenever it wants to.”
“The heart is seriously flawed.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said, chuckling. “Well, it’s not Valentine’s yet, but ‘tis the season.”
I stuck out my tongue. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Sleep. Rest. Learn to believe in love again.”
I chuckled and called her something I shouldn’t repeat. She laughed harder than I did.
Friday morning, I returned to the office feeling almost back to normal. My desk was exactly as I’d left it. Mostly. There were a stack of messages and a few things that needed my attention, which I expected.
And sitting in the center of it all was a gift.
And this one was not like the others I had received for the Valentine’s exchange. This one was beautifully wrapped.
The paper was a soft cream color with delicate gold foiling. It looked professional, like it had been done by Cupid himself.
I stared at it for a long moment. This was nothing like the previous gifts. The stapler had been wrapped in an ugly brochure. The gift card hadn’t been much better. There had been zero effort put into the last two gifts. This looked like it belonged in a store window.
I sat down slowly, still looking at the package like it might explode. Part of me didn’t want to open it. Because opening it meant finding out what was inside, and what if it was another disappointment?
What if it was another thoughtless, last-minute gift that would make me feel small and stupid for putting so much effort into the presents I’d been giving?
I loved giving gifts. One of my favorite things in the world was finding the perfect present for someone that showed I had been paying attention. But receiving thoughtless gifts? That hurt in a way I hadn’t expected.
Still, I couldn’t just leave it sitting there.
But what if Lucas had delivered it to the wrong desk? The gift I was staring at was not like the others. I didn’t want to open someone else’s gift, and worse, I didn’t want to be disappointed when I saw what other people were getting.
My eyes drifted around the office. The gifts were likely delivered yesterday, which meant everyone already got theirs.
Could it really be mine?
Now I felt like a jerk for being so angry with my Secret Cupid.
I carefully untied the ribbon, trying not to damage it because it was too pretty to throw away. Then I peeled back the tape and unfolded the paper.
Inside was a white box with a note on top.
I opened the note first.
For someone who believes in magic, even the everyday kind. -Your Secret Cupid
My breath caught. Those were my words. From my Cupid’s Arrow profile. The one Lucas had created for the campaign. The one that was supposed to be private, deactivated, just for show.
Someone had read it.
I set the note aside carefully and opened the box.
Inside was a small, leather-bound journal with gilded pages. But it wasn’t just any journal. When I opened it, I saw that the first page had been inscribed in elegant calligraphy: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”
Shakespeare. As You Like It. One of my favorite plays.
I flipped through the pages and tucked inside was a gift certificate to a bookstore in the Village that specialized in rare old plays, along with a second smaller envelope.
I opened it with shaking hands. Inside were two tickets to Wicked next month. Premium seats. I stared at them, my vision blurring slightly.
Someone had paid attention. Someone had listened when I talked about theater and my love of Broadway. I looked around the office. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I supposed I hoped my Cupid would jump out and announce their presence.
I picked up the journal again, running my fingers over the embossed cover. It was the kind of thing I never would have bought for myself. It was far too nice. It was definitely too much. But it was also perfect.