“That answer is true,” she said.
The honesty slipped under every defense I had.
“We should include at least one false detail,” I said. “If everything is true, this gets confusing.”
“It is already confusing.”
At one o’clock, we left the consultation room with a fictional relationship, six rules, a provisional prize split, and a deadline for my confession. Before Amy left the gym, she completed Miguel’s intake, signed the transfer, and received a copy countersigned by Blake. My access to her training file changed from editor to read-only challenge partner. Rose stood at the front desk. She looked at the notebook in Amy’s hands. Then at me. Amy smiled politely.
“Rose, would you be available to witness an agreement on Thursday?”
Rose closed her eyes.
“Of course,” she said.
After Amy left, Rose turned to me.
“You didn’t tell her.”
“Thursday.”
“You set a date.”
“Are you proud?”
“No.”
I tried a hopeful smile. Rose continued to look like a disappointed ethics committee.
“But impressed?”
“No.”
“She said yes.”
“I gathered that.”
Through the front windows, Amy waited at the crosswalk with the binder against her chest. A gust of wind lifted her hair. She glanced back, and our eyes met through the glass. She gave me a small, uncertain wave. I waved back. The last rule appeared in my mind. Neither party will develop genuine romantic feelings. We had agreed too late. Not because I was in love with her.
That would have been ridiculous. I had known her for three weeks. But as Amy turned and crossed the street, I understood the rule had not been written to prevent something impossible. It had been written because pretending would not be the difficult part.
Chapter Seven
Love at First Injury
Amy
On Thursday, May twenty-ninth, I learned that witnessing a fake-dating agreement required fewer legal formalities than opening a joint checking account and more snacks than I had anticipated. Tessa arranged crackers, cheese, grapes, and two kinds of cookies across our kitchen table as though we were hosting a small diplomatic summit. Rose arrived carrying a folder. Dani arrived carrying wine. I stood at the head of the table with the agreement in front of me and questioned every decision that had led to this moment.
“No alcohol until after the signatures,” I said.
Dani set the bottle on the counter. “You think I’m going to fake-date you sober?”
“Yes.”
“That feels unnecessarily difficult.”
“You proposed this.”
