Chapter 11
When the Gossip Goes Viral
Kate
My phone wakes me up.
Not my alarm. My phone.
Buzzing. Vibrating. Chiming with notification after notification like it's having a seizure on my nightstand.
I groan and reach for it, squinting at the screen.
Forty-seven notifications.
I sit up, suddenly wide awake.
Facebook. Instagram. The Maple Glen Community Group. Even my email.
Likes. Comments. Tags. Shares.
All on the same post.
Mrs. Everly's post.
I open Facebook and my stomach drops.
Two hundred and thirty-four likes. One hundred and twelve comments. Shared to six different groups.
I scroll through, my face burning hotter with every line.
She's a keeper! Grayson finally found someone!
About time our hermit came out of hiding for love!
When's the wedding? I'll start planning now!
Someone—I don't even know who—has created a photo collage. Pictures I didn't know existed. One from outside the cabin the day Maxwell dropped me off. One from Patel's General Store yesterday. One that looks like it was taken through the bakery window.
The caption reads: Maple Glen's Sweetest Love Story ??
Three hundred likes.
I groan and bury my face in my pillow, phone still buzzing in my hand.
This is no longer harmless gossip.
This is viral. Town-wide. Documented.
The whole town believes we're dating.
And they're celebrating it like we just announced our engagement.
I lie there for another five minutes, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how my life spiraled this far out of control in less than forty-eight hours.
Then I smell coffee.
And bacon.
I drag myself out of bed, pull on the flannel shirt from the chair, and stumble downstairs. Zero emotional preparedness. Hair in every direction. One sock on, one sock off.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
—
Grayson is in the kitchen, cooking eggs like the world isn't ending.
Dark green flannel, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Hair damp from a shower. Completely relaxed.
Meanwhile, I feel like I'm one notification away from a breakdown.
"Morning," he says without looking up.
I hold up my phone. "Have you seen this?"
"Seen what?"
"This!" I wave it at him. "The post. The comments. The photo collage someone made of us!"
He flips the eggs. "I saw it."
"You saw it." I stare at him. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Maybe 'this is insane' or 'we need to fix this' or literally anything other than making eggs like nothing's wrong!"
He plates the eggs. Adds bacon and toast. Sets both plates on the table. Then looks at me.
Really looks at me.
"It'll blow over," he says.
I want to throw my phone at him.
Instead, I sit down heavily. "I thought last night was just a funny small-town moment. Something that would fade overnight."
"Small towns don't work like that."
"I'm realizing that now." I run my hands through my hair, making it worse.
"I thought meeting Mrs. Patel was sweet.
I thought what Linda said about us was harmless teasing.
But now it's viral. People are making photo collages!
Someone asked in the comments if we're registered at the hardware store! "
He takes a bite of bacon. Chews. Swallows.
"So what do you want to do about it?"
"Fix it. Tell everyone it's not true."
"That'll make it worse."
"How could it possibly be worse?"
Grayson sets his fork down and leans back. "Because denying it gives them something to talk about. It creates drama. They'll speculate even more."
"So what—we just let them think we're together?"
"For now. Yes."
I stare at him like he's speaking another language. "You can't be serious."
"Completely serious. Small towns feed on resistance. The more you fight it, the more convinced they become. But if you play along? They get bored. Move on."
I repeat the words slowly. "Play along. You want us to fake a relationship."
"I want us to not deny one. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
He shrugs. "We're living together. We've been seen together. The rumor isn't baseless."
"It's completely baseless! We're not dating! We barely tolerate each other!"
His lips twitch. "Do we?"
I glare at him. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Smirk. Like this is funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It's not funny. This is my reputation. My job. Maxwell sent me here to prove I'm responsible, and now the entire town thinks I—" I gesture wildly. "That we fell madly in love in three days?"
Grayson's expression softens slightly. "They think we're together. That's it. No one's judging you."
"Yet."
"They won't. This town loves a love story, and you're giving them one."
I drop my head into my hands. "This is ridiculous."
"I know."
"I didn't sign up for this."
"I know."
"I have a life back in the city. A job. A reputation that's already hanging by a thread after the espresso machine incident."
"I know."
I look up. "So why are you so calm about this?"
He's quiet a moment. "Because I've learned that some things aren't worth fighting. Small-town gossip is one of them."
I want to argue. Want to insist we march down to Sweet Crumbs right now and set the record straight.
But the way he's looking at me—steady, certain—makes me pause.
Maybe fighting it would make it worse. Maybe the only way out is through.
I exhale slowly. "Fine."
His eyebrows rise. "Fine?"
"We'll lean into it. For now." I point at him. "But we're setting rules."
"Rules."
"Yes. Rules." I count on my fingers. "No touching unless absolutely necessary. No lying beyond what's required—we're not making up some elaborate backstory. And no surprises. If you're going to do something, you tell me first."
Grayson's lips twitch. That almost-smile that drives me crazy.
"What?" I demand.
"Nothing. I'm just impressed by your organizational skills. Very executive assistant of you."
"Don't mock me."
"I'm agreeing."
"Why do I feel like you're laughing at me?"
"I'm not laughing."
"You're smirking."
"I don't smirk."
"You're literally doing it right now."
He takes another bite of eggs to hide his expression, but I see it. The corner of his mouth. The faint amusement in his eyes.
And despite everything—the gossip, the stress, the complete absurdity of my life right now—I feel my own lips twitching.
This is insane. All of it.
But maybe it doesn't have to be the end of the world.
Maybe we can survive a few weeks of pretending until the town gets bored and moves on.
Maybe—
A knock at the door.
Grayson and I exchange a look.
"Are you expecting someone?"
"No."
We both stand. I suddenly become very aware that I'm wearing a flannel shirt that barely covers my sleep shorts, my hair is a disaster, and I'm about to answer the door looking like I just rolled out of Grayson's bed.
Which, technically, I did. Just not in the way the town thinks.
I open the door.
Mrs. Everly stands on the porch holding a casserole dish covered in foil. Lavender cardigan. A smile bright enough to power the whole cabin.
"Good morning, lovebirds!" she chirps.
I freeze. "Mrs. Everly. Hi."
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." She winks. "I just wanted to drop off a little something for you two."
She thrusts the casserole into my hands. Still warm.
"You didn't have to—"
"Nonsense! Chicken and rice. My specialty." She peers past me. "Oh, Grayson! There you are!"
Grayson appears behind me, coffee mug in hand. "Mrs. Everly."
"The whole town is just buzzing about you two! The post got so much attention. I've never had that many likes."
"We've noticed," Grayson says dryly.
"So, have you two picked out towel colors yet?"
I blink. "I'm sorry, what?"
"For your registry! When you move in together officially. Are you thinking neutrals? Or a pop of color? You strike me as a teal girl, Kate."
"We're not—" I start.
Grayson's hand lands on my shoulder. Warm. Steady. A warning.
I swallow the rest of the sentence.
Mrs. Everly doesn't notice my hesitation. She's too delighted. "You two are just perfect together. Kate with all her sunshine and Grayson with his quiet strength. It's like a romance novel!"
Grayson and I exchange a quick glance.
"Thank you," I manage. "That's very kind."
"And the way Grayson looks at you, Kate." She sighs happily. "That man is absolutely smitten."
I resist the urge to turn around and check his expression.
Grayson's thumb moves against my shoulder. Just once. A tiny, grounding gesture.
"We should probably let you get back to your morning," Grayson says smoothly.
"Of course! I just wanted to say how happy I am for you both." She beams one more time.
"You'll have to come by the bakery soon. I'm already thinking about what kind of cake you'd like for—well. For future events."
She's talking about wedding cake. She's already planning our wedding cake.
"Thank you for the casserole," I say quickly. "It smells amazing."
"You're so welcome, dear! Enjoy your day!"
She practically skips back to her car.
I close the door and lean against it, still holding the dish.
"Did she just—?"
"Yeah," Grayson says.
"Wedding cake. She mentioned wedding cake."
"I heard."
I set the casserole down and pull out my phone.
Sure enough. A new post.
Just dropped off lunch for Maple Glen's favorite couple! They're so adorable together! #CasseroleForCuties #LoveInMapleGlen #GraysonAndKate
Fifteen likes. And climbing.
I show Grayson. He reads it. His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn't look surprised.
I run a hand through my hair. "She made a hashtag. A couple hashtag. We have a couple hashtag."
He's quiet a moment. "It's got alliteration."
I stare at him. "Are you serious?"
"Casserole for Cuties. Objectively creative."
"I'm going to kill you."
"No, you're not."
"I might."
He almost smiles. "You won't."
I look at my phone. At the post. At the comments still rolling in. At the photo collage spreading to even more groups.
Then I look at Grayson. Calm. Flannel and jeans. Completely unbothered by a world that's actively losing its mind around us.
And I realize, with sinking certainty: the town has officially claimed us.
We're Maple Glen's couple now.
And pretending just became completely unavoidable.