If she had one more drink, the filter would dissolve. She’d lean too close. She’d admit that she volunteered not because she was a saint, but because the idea of Elizabeth going to that wedding alone made her chest ache physically. That she’d have no problem pulling it off because she’d had a massive crush on Elizabeth for months.
She couldn’t do that.
Ground yourself. You’re working. This is a job.
“You’re smiling,” Elizabeth said.
Kelsey snapped back to the present. Elizabeth was watching her, one eyebrow arched. She looked tired, the lines around her eyes visible in the harsh bar lighting.
“I’m admiring my own performance,” Kelsey lied. Mostly. She tapped her fingers against the wood. “I think Scott bought it. I mean, he looked confused, but he bought it.”
“He looked shocked,” Elizabeth corrected dryly. She picked up her own drink, her movements precise, elegant. “He assumes I don’t have a life outside the firm. And he’s not entirely wrong.”
“Well,” Kelsey said, the reckless bravery flaring up again despite her warning to herself. She shifted, her knee bumping Elizabeth’s. She didn’t pull back. “We’re fixing that. By the time we get to the wedding, you’re going to look like you have the most romantic personal life in the tri-state area.”
Elizabeth stared at her over the rim of her glass. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but she didn’t move her leg away. The contact was a single, burning point of pressure in the noisy bar.
“Don’t overpromise, Kelsey,” Elizabeth said softly.
“I never overpromise,” Kelsey shot back, grinning because the whiskey wouldn’t let her be afraid.
The whiskey had left a pleasant,fuzzy warmth in Kelsey’s veins, but the water had brought her back to earth, just enough to realize she washappy. Not the usual, fleeting kind, the quick hit of a good tip or a funny meme from Hailey. This was something deeper, brighter. A giddy, dangerous kind of happiness.
It wasn’t real. She knew that. The contract had made that crystal clear. But for the first time in months, maybe years, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Sitting in a dimly lit bar, knee pressed against Elizabeth’s leg.
Elizabeth’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Another drink?”
Kelsey hesitated. The night was goingtoowell. The whiskey had done its job. It had loosened her up, made her a little bold. But another round might tip her over the edge.
She shook her head, grinning. “Nah, I’m good. We both have work tomorrow, right?”
Elizabeth studied her for a long moment, then gave a single, slow nod. “Right.”
Kelsey slid off the stool, her boots hitting the floor with a quiet thud. The bar was still loud, still crowded, but the noise felt distant now, like she was underwater. She leaned in, close enough to catch the clean, sharp scent of Elizabeth’s perfume, close enough to see the faint lines at the corners of her eyes. Her hand found Elizabeth’s neck as she leaned in. Elizabeth went very still.
Kelsey’s lips hovered near her ear, her breath warm against the shell of it. “I’m just gonna use the restroom before we go,” she murmured. “Practice checking me out.”
She pulled back just enough to catch the flicker of surprise in Elizabeth’s eyes—the way her pupils swallowed the dim bar light, the way her breath caught and held for a fraction too long. Kelsey could still feel the warmth of Elizabeth’s skin beneath her fingertips, the faint tremor in her own hands as she turned away. The crowd swallowed her instantly, bodies pressing close, laughter and clinking glasses muffling the hammering of her pulse in her ears. She didn’t look back. She didn’t dare.
The bathroom was a narrow, dimly lit space with two stalls and a sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a decade. Kelsey braced her hands on the edge of the counter, staring at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. She looked alive. She lookedhappy.
But it wasn’t real.
She splashed cold water on her wrists, the shock of it grounding her.This is a job. This is a favor. This is not your life.
Except itfeltlike her life. It felt like the best version of her life, the one she’d imagined in quiet moments behind the counter, watching Elizabeth walk in, wondering how it was possible for Elizabeth to always look so good no matter what she was wearing or how her hair was done.
Kelsey dried her hands, her fingers trembling just a little. She couldn’t get carried away. She couldn’t let herself forget that this was temporary, that in two weeks, Elizabeth would go back to her real life, and Kelsey would go back to making her coffee.
But for now?
For now, she could pretend.
And she might as well enjoy herself while she was at it.
7
Elizabeth squinted as the sun glared off the glass towers, the dull throb behind her temples a stubborn reminder of last night’s whiskey. The wind whipped down Broadway, cutting straight through her blazer like it wasn’t even there—some spring morning this was. The city was already awake, the sidewalks crowded with dog walkers tugging at leashes, commuters clutching iced coffees, and tourists huddled around Google Maps, oblivious to the flow of traffic.
