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“What does that look like?” Callie asks. I realize that what John is suggesting will require her participation beyond the one-time charade.
“Proof of your relationship. Happy family photos at the beach, riding horses, wholesome stuff Elizabeth doesn’t have because she hasn’t been here. Images showing that Scout is living his best life with the two of you.”
“But we—”
John interrupts. “It’s not as simple as saying she’s unfit because she left. Things have changed since then. You’re stretched too thin, and they have evidence of texts you sent to the school admitting you’re exhausted. The ranch requires more of your time, and the rotating babysitters aren’t a good look when she’s available full-time. She can offer the stability you can’t. It’s not a contest over who’s the better person. It’s about who can give Scout the best life.”
Even I’m having a hard time arguing that my cobbled-together situation is better for Scout even though I know with every fiber of my being that it is. Maybe I need to be the bigger person and let my son go off with his mom and have the fancy life she can provide.
I’m about to tell John that the gig is up. We’re lying. We don’t have any proof of a relationship that doesn’t actually exist. But Callie grabs my hand with such force that it stops me mid-sentence.
“Sure. We can do that.”
I shoot her a side-eye, wondering what she’s thinking. Meanwhile, my hand tingles beneath her grip and I try to figure out how she can elicit that reaction with a mere touch.
John shakes both of our hands and rushes down the courthouse steps like his tail is on fire. Guess he has other people’s lives to barely improve today.
“Your lawyer sucks,” Callie says as soon as he’s rounded the corner.
“You don’t mince words.”
“Are you saying you disagree?” She faces me, and I still see a faint hint of blue on her lips, which draws my attention to her pouty, plump lips, pink with lipstick. When she catches me looking, her lips curve into a smile, and I dart my eyes away.
“He’s not the best. But he’s affordable, and he seems to know what he’s doing.”
She barks out a laugh. “Seriously? The man who’s been employed for how long and doesn’t question your insta-fiancée?”
I try to take a breath, but it gets choked in my throat. This time, it’s not a feeling of distress or the overwhelming gravity of a custody hearing. It’s that I hear the ridiculousness of the past few hours for the first time. And I begin to shake with laughter.
Callie stands there gaping at me as the stress and anxiety of the past week catch up with my frayed emotions, and it all takes its toll on my sanity. I shake my head as tears drip from my eyes and I give in for a moment longer, before trying to control myself.
“You’re right. This is absurd. You have every right to walk away from me and this mess. I will talk to my lawyer and set the record straight with the court. I never should have let things get this far.”
She nods and indicates that I should follow her, so we walk down the block, then another, turning the corner where I’d told her she could find a coffee place. Leading me inside, she points at a table in the corner. Before I can argue that I’m happy to pay, she shakes her head. “Sit. You’re having decaf, by the way.”
After buying two iced coffee drinks, she comes and sits at the table across from me. Her foot grazes my ankle, and I’m hit with a jolt of warmth that I don’t want to feel.
“Why would you agree to this? Surely, you have better things to do than run around taking fake photos with me and pretending to be my fiancée.”
“Would you judge me if I say I don’t?”
“No, but I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Fair enough.” She runs a hand through her long hair, weaving through the strands. I can’t explain the sudden urge I have to reach out and touch her hair to see if it’s as silky as it looks. And I can’t explain what it does to me to watch her eyes flit around while she comes up with a response. But it shifts something deep inside me, and I don’t hate it.
Callie folds her hands on the table and meets my gaze. “We have a family ranch up here, and someone needs to take perfect photos for social media, so I could stay up here at the ranch and do that. For a couple months.”
“So just like that you change your life plans?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t have a life plan.” Her brightness dims for the first time. “People think I don’t follow through on things. Maybe they’re right. I torpedoed my job because of an inappropriate photo I posted, and I’m light-years behind my overachieving sisters in life skills or my desire for adulting. So I guess this is a chance to prove, at least to myself, that I can stick with something if I want to do it.”
I blow out a breath, considering the magnitude of what having her pose as my fiancée would actually entail. “This is a small town. People are all up in each other’s business, and it might be hard to convince them I’ve had a girlfriend for some time without them knowing, let alone that we’re engaged.”
She discards the straw and sips her coffee from the plastic cup. “I think it helps that we own Loveland Ranch. We could say I’ve been staying there, and we’ve kept everything on the downlow because of your son. We didn’t want to confuse him until we knew for sure we were legit.”
My thoughts return to Scout. He’d have to be a part of this. “I don’t want to confuse him now,” I admit.
“Of course not. We’ll just say I’m your ‘special friend.’ That’s what people always say to kids, whether they’re dating or explaining the walk of shame, and I’m pretty sure kids don’t get the subtext. The bigger thing is that your lawyer is right. No one will accept that we’re a couple just because you say it’s true. We’re gonna need proof. Old photos, social media posts. People in town need to see us together.”
