Page 19 of Fake It 'Til You Feel It

“You’re not helping.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, her tone softening. “So, you had a hot make out session with Nathan. How do you feel about it?”

“That’s the thing,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t know. It was… unexpected. But it felt—” I stop, struggling to find the right word.

“Right?” she offers.

I sigh. “Yeah.”

“And now you’re wondering if you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not wondering,” I snap, but it’s weak, and Chelsea knows it.I know it.

“Dana,” she says gently, “if it didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t have called me.”

I lean against the railing, my head tilting back as I stare up at the sky.She’s right, of course. She always is.

“It’s just… Nathan’s myboss,” I whisper the last word directly into the microphone, my voice barely audible between the proximity and the wind. “And he’s infuriating. And arrogant. And impossible.”

“But?”

“But,” I admit reluctantly, “he can also be funny. And thoughtful—did I mention that he got booksdeliveredto the boat so I could have reading material? And… he believes in me in a way no one else ever has.”

There’s a long pause on Chelsea’s end, and I can almost hear her smirking through the phone. “Sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

I groan again, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know what to do, Chels.”

“First of all,” she commands, her tone teasing now, “stop panicking. Second, figure out what you want. Do you want to keep pretending this is just a work thing, or do you want to see where it goes?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable.Unanswerable because I don’t want to think about it, or because I know the answer, and it scares me?

“I’ll think about it,” I say finally, though even as I say the words, my mind is already spinning in a thousand different directions.

“You’d better,” Chelsea threatens playfully. “And for the record, I’m rooting for you two. Unlike when you dated Zee Worse. And The Disaster before him. And let’s not speak of The Ghoster.”

I groan. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Do you?” Chelsea teases. “Because I still have nightmares about that time you tried to convince me Zee Worse just had ‘European charm’ instead of red flags the size of France.”

I cover my eyes with my free hand. “You agreed we were never speaking of this again.”

“That was before you brought me another man to judge. It’s tradition now.”

I sigh, but my lips twitch. “And Nathan?”

“Jury’s still out,” she says. “But I’m rooting for him. He might actually be worth it.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “We’ll see.”

When I finally hang up, I feel a little lighter, but the weight of Mrs. Harris’s words still linger.

AmI in love with Nathan?

The question echoes in my mind as I make my way back to our suite. For someone whose life revolves around answering difficult questions, I don’t know if I’m ready for this one.

The functionthat Nathan sprung on me is more extravagant than I expected—an open-air gala on the dock, where twinkling lights reflect off the water, and the air is thick with the scent of salt and fresh flowers.

After docking, a private car had been waiting to take us a short distance to the venue—because of course Nathan wouldn’t have me stepping onto the pavement in heels and a gown like some common guest. No, this is about appearances. About ensuring every detail, down to my entrance, is perfect. Soft music hums beneath the pulse of my heart in my ears.

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