Chapter 14
MELODY
“Hold that pose,” Cleo commanded, circling me with my camera like a prowling cat. “Chin up just a touch. Perfect. Now give me attitude.”
I adjusted my stance, one hand on my hip, the other holding the strap of the designer bag we were featuring today. The lavender dress I’d changed into was beautiful. Perfect for a spring day or Easter brunch and that’s exactly how we were going to tag it.
“Gorgeous,” Cleo said, reviewing the shots. “Your followers are going to eat this up. The dress, the bag, that little smirk you’re doing is perfect.” She made a chef’s kiss gesture. “Perfection.”
I relaxed my pose and grabbed my phone from the nearby table, scrolling through our shot list for the day. “What’s next?”
“The denim look. Then we need to shoot that sponsored content for the jewelry brand.” Cleo consulted her own phone, which contained my meticulously organized content calendar. “But first, you need to spill. Immediately. How did dinner go last night?”
I’d been waiting for this. Cleo had texted me seventeen times between when I got home and when I woke up this morning, each message more demanding than the last. I had been putting it off.
I couldn’t explain why. I always told Cleo everything, but last night, I had wanted to cherish the moment just a little.
It was silly, but I supposed I liked the idea of pretending it could be real.
“It went well,” I said carefully, heading behind the changing screen in the corner. One of the three bedrooms in the townhouse had been transformed into a studio with proper lighting and a variety of backdrops.
“Well? Well! Girl, I need more than ‘well.’ Did he try anything? Was he a gentleman? Did you kiss? Did you take him home?”
“Cleo.”
“What! I’m invested. I spent an hour helping you get ready for that date. I deserve details.”
I emerged in high-waisted jeans and a cropped sweater, bare feet padding across the hardwood floor. “We talked. Had dinner. It was nice.”
“Nice.” Cleo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re being suspiciously vague. What happened?”
I took a breath. “He asked me to fake date him.”
Silence. Complete, utter silence.
She frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s a business arrangement. He needs his family off his back, I need help rebuilding my reputation. It’s mutually beneficial.”
Cleo stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Let me get this straight. Austin Bancroft asked you to be his fake girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“And you said yes?”
“I said yes.”
“Why in the hell does he need a fake girlfriend? He must have at least a hundred women on the bench.”
“Because he doesn’t want a real girlfriend. He wants an arrangement.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Melody!” Cleo threw her hands up. “This is crazy! And amazing! Do you know what this means?”
“That I’ve lost my mind?”
“That I get to train him!” Her eyes lit up with unholy glee. “You said he has to do a boyfriend training session with me, right? That was one of your rules?”
“It was.” I slipped into the heels we’d chosen for this look. “And I’m warning you now, he’s going to be difficult.”
“Good. I like a challenge.” Cleo was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with this. Does he know what he signed up for?”
“Probably not.”
“Even better.” She grabbed her camera again. “Okay, we need to get through today’s content schedule, and then you’re going to tell me every single detail of this arrangement. And I mean everything.”
We spent the next two hours shooting. Outfit changes, different poses, and a few backdrop changes. Finally, we settled in my living room with iced coffees and the laptop, reviewing and editing the photos we’d taken.
“Okay,” Cleo said, pulling up an editing program. “Now finish spilling everything.”
I walked her through it all. Cleo listened, her expression cycling between impressed and concerned.
“It’s smart,” she finally said. “Really smart, actually. But, babe, have you thought about what happens after?”
“After?”
“After you break up. The media destroys couples after a breakup. And they’re especially brutal to women.
They’ll say you were using him, that you were never good enough for him anyway, or that you were just a phase.
” She looked at me with pity in her eyes.
“What makes you think Austin can protect you from that fallout?”
My stomach twisted. “He said we’d control the narrative. Make it amicable.”
“And you believe that’ll work?”
“I don’t know. But what’s my alternative? Stay canceled? Watch my career crumble? At least this gives me a fighting chance.”
“Or it ends in an even bigger mess than the one you’re already in.”
“Maybe.” I set down my coffee. “But dating a Bancroft? Even fake dating? That’s going to open doors I never could’ve accessed otherwise. I can leverage all of that to rebuild. And when we break up, hopefully I’ll be in a strong enough position that the fallout won’t destroy me.”
Cleo studied me carefully. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“I spent all night thinking about it.”
“And you’re sure about this? Sure about him?”
“I’m not sure about anything. But I know I can’t keep spiraling. I need help, and Austin’s offering it.” I picked at the edge of my coffee cup. “Besides, it’s not like this is real. We have rules. Boundaries. A clear exit strategy.”
“Uh-huh.” Cleo didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop. “Well, if you’re doing this, we’re doing it right. When do I get to train him?”
“Soon, I think. We need to coordinate schedules.”
“I’m going to make him practice posing. And figure out his angles. And teach him how to hold a purse without looking awkward.” She was getting more animated by the second. “Oh! And I need to coach him on captions. Because if he posts something cringe, that reflects on you.”
“He agreed to let me approve all his posts first.”
“Smart girl.” She clinked her coffee against mine. “Okay, I’m on board. Let’s make this fake relationship the most believable thing anyone’s ever seen.”
We got back to work on editing photos and creating reels with silly music in the background. My doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Cleo said, already on her feet.
I heard the door open, heard Cleo’s surprised “Oh!” and then she was calling me.
“Mel! You need to see this!”
I walked to the door and gasped when I saw the delivery man holding the most enormous, most beautiful flower arrangement I’d ever seen. Roses, peonies, hydrangeas, and flowers I couldn’t even name. It was a huge bouquet.
“There’s a card.” She handed me the small envelope tucked into the arrangement. My hands shook slightly as I opened it.
Take a picture. Post to socials. Tag me. Write something cute and sappy. Text me when it’s live. I’ll handle the rest. Austin
It was stupid and ridiculous, but I felt butterflies low in my belly.
“What does it say?” Cleo demanded as she carried the vase into the living room.
I showed her the note. She read it, then looked up at me with a knowing expression.
“He’s good,” she said. “I’ll give him that.”
“It’s just strategy. Part of the arrangement.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” But she was already positioning the flowers on my coffee table, adjusting them for the best light. “Come on, let’s get this shot while the light is perfect.”
I stood behind the arrangement, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Smell them. Look surprised and happy. Like your very real boyfriend just sent you very real flowers because he’s crazy about you.” Cleo positioned her camera. “Try to actually look happy. Not like you’re being held hostage by a flower arrangement.”
I laughed despite myself, and Cleo snapped the photo.
“Perfect,” she said, reviewing it. “That’s the one. Natural, genuine, happy. Post it.”
I pulled up Instagram and uploaded the photo, my fingers hovering over the caption box. What was I supposed to write? How did people caption flowers from their boyfriends?
I typed and deleted several attempts before finally settling on something simple:
When he knows exactly how to brighten your day! Thank you @AustinBancroft for the most beautiful surprise.
I added the rose and sparkle emojis—approved according to my own rules—and hit post.
Then I texted Austin.
Me: Posted. These are beautiful.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Austin: Just wait.
I showed Cleo my phone. “What does that mean?”
“I think we’re about to find out.”
We watched my Instagram, refreshing obsessively. The likes were already climbing. Comments rolled in from my followers.
OMG these are gorgeous!
Okay, this is so cute I’m crying.
Austin Bancroft really said “let me spoil my girl.”
The way he’s already so attentive??? I’m obsessed with them.
Then Austin’s comment appeared at the top. It had already been liked a few hundred times.
@AustinBancroft: Anything for my girl. You deserve flowers every day.
My breath caught. It was perfect. Sweet, public, exactly the right tone.
Cleo was reading over my shoulder, shaking her head slowly. “Girl, he’s good at this.”
“He said he’d handle it. I guess this is what he meant.”
Austin texted me. Comment back. Keep the momentum going.
I quickly added a comment and then stared at my phone, my heart doing acrobatics. This was all a performance. All part of the arrangement. But it felt real. Too real.
“Okay,” Cleo said slowly, watching my face. “I need to say something, and you’re not going to like it.”
“What?”
“Careful, girl.” Her expression was serious now. “Bancrofts are powerful. Like witches. Once they have you under their spell?” She clicked her tongue ominously.
My stomach did a little somersault. “I’m not under any spell,” I said, but my voice didn’t sound as convincing as I wanted. “This is a contract. A business arrangement. That’s all.”
“Is it, though?” Cleo gestured at my phone and then the flowers. And then she looked at me with her brows raised. I knew what she was seeing. I felt it. My face was flushed. “Because from where I’m sitting, you look like a girl who’s catching feelings for her fake boyfriend.”
“I’m not.” I stopped. “Cleo, I barely know him.”
“And yet you’re smiling at your phone like he just wrote you poetry.”
I looked down. She was right. I was smiling. A stupid, giddy smile.
No. No, no, no.
“It’s just nice,” I said weakly. “Having someone pay attention like this. A man has never sent me flowers before. Never commented on my posts. Never any of this.” I gestured vaguely at everything.
“Never made you feel special,” Cleo finished gently.
“Yeah.”
She moved closer, took my hand. “Babe, I get it. I really do. Austin is charming and hot and he’s saying all the right things. But you need to remember this isn’t real. He’s doing this because you have an agreement. Not because he actually wants a thing with you.”
“I know,” I said just a little too irritably. “I know it’s not real. I’m not an idiot, Cleo. I know exactly what this is.”
She squeezed my hand. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t. I have rules. Boundaries. We both know what we signed up for.”
“Rules can’t protect your heart.”
My phone buzzed again. Another comment from Austin, something funny and sweet that made my followers go wild.
I looked at the flowers on my coffee table. It was a little scary at how good he was at this. I would have to be careful because he would definitely make it hard to keep the lines separated.
Cleo was right to be concerned. This was dangerous. Because every time Austin said something sweet or he defended me, it got a little harder to remember it was all pretend.
But I couldn’t back out now. I’d signed the agreement. Made the plan. Posted the content.
I was in it for better or worse.
“I’ll be careful,” I promised Cleo. “I know what I’m doing.”
She looked skeptical but nodded. “Okay. But the second this starts feeling like more than business, you tell me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Even if this was all pretend, it felt good to be wanted. To know what it would be like to be pursued. I would just have to remember not to fall for the illusion.