Page 100 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“That sounded like a rule,” Winnifred says.

“It is a rule.”

“Whose rule?”

“Forrest’s.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh.’”

“I didn’t say anything else.”

“You said ‘oh’ with a cardigan on and hot tea in a fall-inspired mug.”

Winnifred’s voice softens, which is rude because I am not prepared for that tone. “So he didn’t want to use the real parts.”

I swallow.

“No,” I say. “He didn’t.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s inconvenient.”

“Most good things are.” Winnifred hums. “That means your controlled sighting can’t be there,” she says. “Respect the rule. We need something else. Something public enough to be noticed, but casual enough not to look staged.”

“Great. So we need organic fraud.”

“Exactly.”

“I hate that you understood me.”

“Come to Colorado,” she says. “We’ll do a few casual photos while you’re here. Nothing too posed. A bakery run, a walk, maybe one picture with Forrest looking annoyed in the background.”

“Forrest won’t come to Colorado for a fake-dating photo montage.”

“Not with that attitude.” She huffs.

“We’re not using your business for this either.”

“It’d be free publicity. People love hockey players.”

“This hockey player hates social media.”

“Hmm,” she says on the other side of the phone. “I’ll talk to my cousin. He probably needs a push.”

“Don’t you push him,” I warn her.

“This is a family matter, and we need to arrange things before we go public.”

“It’s already public,” I remind her.

“Sure, but you haven’t released the joint statement.”

“We’re not a publicly traded relationship,” I complain.

“No, but you are a Winterberry relationship,” she reminds me. “That’s even worse. There’re more shareholders. You’ll need a theme.”