Page 76 of The Substitute Fiancée

I feel the exact moment he comes back to me. His eyes lock onto mine, his arms wrap around my waist, and suddenly I’m no longer a blur at the edge of his screen.

“It’s break time,” I say. “Want a coffee?”

“You sound just like Nina, my assistant.”

“I already like her,” I shoot back.

He smiles.

“I think she’ll like you too. She’s constantly giving me orders. Sometimes I feel like she thinks she’s my mother.”

I snort.

“I have a feeling she’s a great woman.”

“She is.”

“How old is she?”

The question sounds casual.

He raises an amused eyebrow.

“You’re jealous.”

“Not at all! I’m just… asking,” I protest.

He laughs outright—the jerk—before answering.

“She’s fifty. Three kids. You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”

My heart skips a beat.

Sweetheart.

He wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it… right?

Or maybe he would. Maybe it’s just a term of endearment, something he says without thinking.

I push the thought aside. Not now. I want to stay in this fragile lightness, enjoy the moment without dissecting it to death.

The days that follow settle into an unexpectedly comfortable routine. Alexander leaves in the morning, I paint all day, he comes home in the evening and we have dinner together. We talk about our days. He tells me about the progress on the algorithm, the latest user feedback.

MatchMapping’s new recommendation system is starting to win people over. Users talk about deeper conversations. Slower ones. More genuine.

The rumor hasn’t disappeared, but its tone is slowly changing.

I show him my paintings. He stops in front of each one, really taking the time to look. Sometimes he asks questions. Other times he stays silent—and in that silence, I know he understands exactly what I’m trying to express.

In the evenings, we sometimes watch a movie, curled up together on the couch. Other times, we simply stay there—me sketching, him working on his laptop. Our silences are just as comfortable as our conversations.

It’s simple.

Easy.

Natural.

And that might be what scares me the most.