She looked at me like shealmostwanted to let go.
And I knew right then — if I kissed her again, for real, it was over for me.
She shivered, pulling the blanket a little tighter around her. “Shit—” I stood quickly, half-jogging back to my bedroom. I yanked a sweatshirt out of my closet and fumbled it awkwardly before holding it out to her. “I’m so sorry. I like it chilly.”
When she pulled the hoodie over her t-shirt, my heart practically stopped.
There hadneverbeen a moment like this. In all my pastrelationships. Hell — even in my dumbmarriage, I had never felt this throbbing ache in my chest looking at someone else.
Wanting to freeze the moment forever, just like this.
Juniper cleared her throat. Not loud — more like she was swallowing something too big for her chest.
“We should probably,” she said, not meeting my eyes, “talk about rules. Or whatever. Ground rules. Boundaries.”
Right. Of course. That’s why we were here. Not because I’d memorized the shape of her smile or the way she laughed when she thought no one was listening. Not because I was falling hopelessly, irrevocably —
“Yeah,” I said. “Rules. Definitely.”
She pulled her hand back. I let her. I think it might’ve hurt more than it should have.
“No PDA unless there are cameras.” Her tone had gone flat — safe. “And even then, nothing — serious. No kissing unless it’s expected. Not unless someone’s watching.”
My chest ached. “Right.”
“No staying over. We make a few appearances. A couple joint interviews, if it comes up. Maybe an Instagram post or something. But it ends after promo.”
“When the movie drops,” I repeated. My voice didn’t sound like mine. “Two weeks after.”
She nodded, as if the decision had already been made. “We fake it, and then we’re done.”
Something in mesplintered.
Because I’d already done the pretending part. And it had felt a hell of a lot more real than anything in a long time. “And you’re okay with all that?” I asked, quieter now.
She hesitated. “I don’t think I’d survive the real thing.”
Thatguttedme.
I didn’t say anything for a moment — I just sat there, watchingher pick at the hem of my hoodie like it might unravel her whole life.
“Okay,” I said finally. “We fake it.”
But I was already breaking the rules.
Because she was in my house.
In my hoodie.
With my heart in my hands.
And she didn’t even know it.
CHAPTER 27
It started as a joke.
Sort of.
