Chapter Three
By twelve-thirty, Meagan had already begun regretting the five letters she had entered beneath the guest portion of the gala RSVP.
Aaron.
Accepting his offer had seemed practical when she stood in Hailey’s driveway with Amanda reading over her shoulder.
Aaron already planned to attend. He worked for the foundation.
He knew the people involved, understood the event, and had volunteered before Meagan could admit that facing Daniel alone made her uncomfortable.
It was one evening.
One favor.
One name typed into a form.
Then Amanda created a group chat titled Operation Perfect Match.
Meagan discovered this while standing at Hailey’s kitchen counter, attempting to eat half a turkey sandwich in peace.
Her phone buzzed beside her plate.
Amanda: First order of business: establishing the relationship timeline.
Meagan looked across the kitchen.
Amanda sat at the small dining table less than six feet away, typing with both thumbs.
“You are in the same room.”
Amanda did not look up. “The group needs documentation.”
“There should not be a group.”
“There are six members.”
Meagan opened the conversation.
Amanda LongHailey GreenwoodJack WrightTyler VonAaron MorrisMeagan Stirling
Her appetite disappeared.
“You added Aaron?”
“He is a primary stakeholder.”
“This is not a corporate merger.”
“Every relationship requires negotiation.”
“There is no relationship.”
Her phone buzzed again.
Aaron: Should I prepare a statement?
Jack: You should prepare an exit strategy.
Tyler: I would like to be removed from this conversation.
Hailey: No, you wouldn’t.
Tyler: Correct.
Meagan closed her eyes.
When she opened them, Hailey stood on the opposite side of the counter, hiding a smile behind her iced tea.
“You could stop this,” Meagan said.
“I could try.”
“You’re hosting.”
“I don’t think that gives me authority over Amanda.”
“No one has authority over Amanda,” Jack said from beside the refrigerator.
Amanda finally glanced up. “And yet you remain fascinated.”
Jack’s expression shifted in a way that caused Amanda to grin.
Meagan picked up her phone.
Meagan: This conversation is unnecessary.
Aaron: Probably.
Meagan: Then leave it.
Aaron: I’m curious about the statement.
Meagan: There is no statement.
Aaron: That simplifies things.
She set the phone facedown.
Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“You made the face.”
“What face?”
“The Aaron face.”
“There is no Aaron face.”
“There is,” Hailey said.
Meagan turned toward her. “You are supposed to be the reasonable one.”
“I am being reasonable.”
“You confirmed an imaginary expression.”
“It wasn’t imaginary.”
Before Meagan could respond, the front door opened.
Aaron stepped inside carrying a cardboard drink tray and a white bakery box.
The faded T-shirt and shorts from that morning were gone. He now wore dark trousers and a pale blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Sunglasses hung from his open collar, and his hair looked as though he had run one hand through it on the drive over.
He looked polished without appearing as though he had tried.
Meagan’s attention caught briefly on his forearms.
That was unnecessary.
She looked at the bakery box instead.
Aaron stopped inside the doorway. “Why did everyone go quiet?”
“No reason,” Amanda said.
Jack nodded toward Meagan. “She was staring.”
“I was not.”
Aaron’s gaze found hers.
His mouth curved.
“I brought coffee.”
“You already brought coffee today,” Meagan replied.
“I’ve heard people require it more than once.”
He set the tray on the counter.
Six cups.
The final one read Meagan.
Hot almond milk latte, one pump vanilla, extra foam.
Again.
“You remembered twice,” she said.
“It wasn’t an accident the first time.”
Something warm moved through her chest.
Amanda made a small sound at the table.
Meagan turned. “Do not.”
“I coughed.”
“You made a romantic cough.”
“I don’t think that exists.”
“With you, it does.”
Aaron opened the bakery box. Inside were several pastries, including one lemon-glazed scone.
Meagan looked at it.
Then at him.
“Doris sent that,” he said. “She said you looked like someone who would pretend she didn’t want one.”
“Doris met me once.”
“She’s efficient.”
Amanda joined them at the counter. “I like Doris.”
“You have never met Doris.”
“I like her instincts.”
Aaron placed the scone on a napkin beside Meagan’s coffee without telling her to eat it.
The small gesture affected her more than it should have.
“I heard you accepted my invitation,” he said.
“Your invitation?”
“To the gala.”
“I was invited independently.”
“But you added me.”
“As a guest.”
“I’m honored.”
“It was a logistical decision.”
“Less honored.”
“You were already attending.”
“Still am.”
“And you offered.”
“I did.”
“Therefore, adding your name was the simplest option.”
Aaron nodded thoughtfully. “Most people send a text when accepting a date.”
“It is not a date.”
“A fake date.”
“It is a gala arrangement.”
Amanda brightened. “That sounds sophisticated.”
“It is not an official term.”
Aaron leaned one hip against the counter. “What happens if Daniel asks how we got together?”
The mention of Daniel quieted the room.
Meagan straightened. “He may not ask anything.”
“But he might,” Hailey said gently.
Meagan looked at her.
Hailey continued. “He worked with you. If he asks where you met or how long you’ve been seeing each other, hesitation could make things uncomfortable.”
“This is not an undercover assignment.”
“No,” Jack said. “Those usually involve fewer pastries.”
Amanda ignored him. “This is why we need rules.”
“We do not need rules.”
“You told Hailey there would need to be clear boundaries.”
Meagan paused. “I told Hailey that privately.”
“Amanda was standing in the hallway,” Hailey admitted.
“I was walking slowly.”
“That is not better.”
Aaron pulled out the chair beside Meagan. “I’d like to hear the rules.”
“You find this amusing.”
“A little.”
“You understand they apply to you.”
“I’ve accepted the risk.”
“This is not a risk.”
“Then we don’t need rules.”
“We absolutely need rules.”
His smile widened.
Meagan realized too late that he had maneuvered her into agreeing.
Amanda clapped once. “Excellent.”
“There is nothing excellent about this.”
But everyone was already moving toward the table.
Tyler sat beside Hailey. Jack took the chair near Amanda. Aaron settled beside Meagan, leaving her surrounded by people enjoying the situation far too much.
She reached for the notepad Hailey kept near the fruit bowl.
If they were going to establish terms, the terms would be clear.
Meagan clicked the pen.
“Rule one. This begins and ends with the gala.”
Aaron nodded. “Reasonable.”
Meagan wrote:
1.The arrangement begins and ends with the gala.
She underlined gala.
Aaron leaned toward the page. “Does it begin when I pick you up?”
“Yes.”
“So everything before that is real?”
The question was light.
The look he gave her was not.
Meagan met his gaze. “Everything before that is preparation.”
“Understood.”
She returned to the page.
“Rule two. We do not invent an elaborate romantic history.”
Amanda sighed. “There goes Paris.”
“There was never Paris.”
“What is our actual story?” Aaron asked.
“We met at the charity tournament.”
“True.”
“We had breakfast this morning.”
“Also true.”
“And we recently decided to attend the gala together.”
“Technically true.”
“There is no need to embellish.”
“That is the least romantic story I have ever heard,” Amanda said.
“It is not supposed to be romantic.”
“How recently did we begin dating?” Aaron asked.
“We didn’t.”
“For the story.”
Meagan considered it. “Very recently.”
“This morning?” Aaron suggested.
“At breakfast?”
“It seems believable.”
“Based on what?”
“Doris already thought it happened.”
“You cannot choose our fictional anniversary based on an eighty-two-year-old café owner’s opinion.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is absurd.”
“You ordered lemon pancakes.”
Meagan narrowed her eyes.
Aaron smiled. “It felt like a turning point.”
Amanda placed one hand over her heart.
Meagan ignored her and wrote:
2. We recently began seeing each other after meeting at the tournament. No elaborate backstory.
Aaron leaned closer to read it.
His shoulder brushed hers.
The contact lasted only a second, but her body noticed it immediately.
She shifted her attention to the next rule.
“Rule three. No unnecessary touching.”
Aaron looked at her. “What qualifies as necessary?”
“Walking into the event together. Dancing, if required. A hand at my back during introductions.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You’ve thought about this.”
“I have attended formal events before.”
“As someone’s fake girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Then this is new territory for both of us.”
“You seem very relaxed about it.”
“I have a good partner.”
The answer landed too softly.
Meagan focused on the page and wrote:
3. No unnecessary touching.
“You’ll need to look comfortable,” Hailey said.
“I can look comfortable.”
Jack coughed into his fist.
Meagan turned toward him. “Was that a comment?”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
“I was breathing.”
“Everyone’s breathing has become suspicious.”
Aaron laughed quietly beside her.
Amanda stood. “Show us.”
“No.”
“One practice entrance.”
“This is not a garment fitting.”
“It is a chemistry fitting.”
“Those words mean nothing.”
Hailey smiled apologetically. “One practice might help.”
Meagan looked around the table.
They were not going to abandon this.
Not without her appearing nervous.
She was not nervous.
“Fine. One.”
Aaron stood and extended his hand.
Meagan looked at his open palm.
“You don’t need to hold my hand to walk across a room.”
“Couples hold hands.”
“Not constantly.”
“We’re new.”
“That does not cause a loss of independent mobility.”
Amanda pointed toward the hallway. “Start there.”
“This is becoming theatrical.”
“That is the point.”
Meagan looked toward Hailey and Tyler.
Tyler’s arm rested along the back of Hailey’s chair, his fingers lightly touching her shoulder. Jack had risen with Amanda and placed his hand at her waist without appearing to notice he had done it.
Both couples looked comfortable.
Natural.
Meagan turned back toward Aaron.