Chapter 1 #2
But never the first choice.
Riley's phone erupted with notifications.
Jenna: It's all in good fun, I promise!
Ryan: Grant's not even responding. I think we broke him.
Hannah: Riley, you're coming solo, right?
Mark: Obviously she's coming solo.
Emily: Riley always comes solo.
Hannah: RILEY. Confirm.
Riley stared at the messages. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
She could say yes. She could laugh it off, show up alone, and let everyone spend the next two weeks making jokes about Miss Independent. She could be the punchline.
Or—
Her fingers moved before her brain caught up.
Riley: Actually... I'm already bringing someone.
She hit send.
The chat went silent.
Riley's heart hammered against her ribs. What did you just do?
The dots appeared. Hannah was typing.
Hannah: EXCUSE ME?
Emily: WHAT.
Jenna: Riley Monroe. Elaborate. NOW.
Mark: Who is it?
Ryan: Is he from the city?
Hannah: RILEY. ANSWER US.
Riley dropped the phone on the bed and pressed her palms against her eyes.
You're an idiot. You're a complete idiot.
She didn't have a date. She didn't even have a prospect. She'd just lied to her entire friend group because her pride couldn't handle being the punchline one more time.
Her phone buzzed again. And again. And again.
She grabbed it.
Hannah: If you don't answer in 10 seconds I'm calling you.
Jenna: This is the most exciting thing that's happened all month.
Riley stared at the screen, her stomach twisting into knots.
And then, at the bottom of the chat, a new message appeared.
Grant: Congrats, Riley.
Two words. That was it.
Riley's throat went dry. She read it again, trying to decode the tone, but text didn't give her anything. Was he surprised? Hurt? Relieved?
Why do you even care?
Because she did. Because even after all this time, even after convincing herself she'd moved on, the idea of Grant Lawson thinking she'd found someone else made her chest ache in a way she didn't want to examine.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Hannah: RILEY ANSWER YOUR PHONE.
It rang a second later.
Riley answered. "Hi, Hannah."
"WHO IS HE?"
"Can I not have five minutes to settle in before—"
"No. Absolutely not. Who. Is. He."
Riley stood and paced to the window, staring out at the snow-covered yard. "Just someone I've been seeing."
"For how long?"
"A few weeks."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it's new. I didn't want to jinx it."
Hannah paused. "Riley Monroe. Are you lying to me?"
"Why would I lie?"
"Because you're a terrible liar and I can hear it in your voice."
Riley's pulse spiked. "I'm not lying."
"Then bring him. I want to meet this mystery man."
"I will."
"To the reunion."
"Yes, Hannah. To the reunion."
Another pause. "Okay. I believe you."
"Good."
"But if you show up alone, I'm staging an intervention."
Riley laughed, even though her stomach was in knots. "Noted."
They hung up, and Riley dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
She'd just lied to her best friend. She'd just committed to bringing a date she didn't have to a reunion in two days. And then maintaining the charade through two weeks of holiday events so everyone would stop with the commentary about her being perpetually single.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
Her phone buzzed one more time.
A private message. Not the group chat.
Grant: Need a plus-one?
Riley's breath caught.
She stared at the message, reading it three times, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Grant. Offering to be her fake date. Of course he was. Because that's what Grant did—he showed up, he helped, he solved problems.
She should say no. She should figure this out herself. She should absolutely not drag her ex-boyfriend into a fake relationship just to save face in front of their friends.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Riley: You don't have to do that.
Grant: I know.
Riley: It would be weird.
Grant: Probably.
Riley: Everyone would talk.
Grant: They already are.
Riley bit her lip, her chest tight.
Riley: Why would you even offer?
The dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Grant: Because I'm apparently everyone's plus-one. Might as well make it official.
She laughed—short and breathless and edged with panic.
Riley: This is a terrible idea.
Grant: Probably.
Riley: We'd have to pretend we're dating. Through the holidays. So they stop with all the commentary.
Grant: I've done worse.
Riley closed her eyes, weighing the disaster ahead. But the alternative was showing up alone and enduring two weeks of pitying looks and "you'll find someone" platitudes from every person she'd ever known.
Then she typed.
Riley: Okay. Let's do it.
Grant: Deal.
Riley: But we need rules. Ground rules. This stays between us.
Grant: Obviously.
Riley: And we tell NO ONE it's fake.
Grant: Agreed.
Riley: We can hash out details tomorrow?
Grant: I'll be at the farm. Come by whenever.
She dropped the phone beside her and stared at the ceiling, wondering how her life had gone from zero to catastrophic in under ten minutes.
Downstairs, her mother called her name.
Riley didn't move.
What have I done?