Page 69 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

The real story. As if I even know what that is anymore in the midst of this “fake” relationship.

"I should check on the office," I say, scrambling from beneath him to pull on yesterday's sweater dress. “Might be a good idea to prevent crystal-based pastry experiments."

"Of course," Grayson assures me as he reaches for his phone. "I'll handle the RSVP."

We dress in silence, but every accidental brush of contact sends little sparks through my vintage wool, reminding me of exactly how un-fake last night—and this morning—just was.

"So," he says eventually, "about the shower?—"

"It's fine," I say, smoothing my dress, wishing I'd packed something less obviously slept-in. "All part of the plan, right? Maintaining our narrative?"

"Right," he says, but something in his voice makes me look up. He's watching me. "Though lately I'm starting to think?—"

My phone interrupts whatever he's about to say. This time it's Joel:Heard you're coming to the shower. Samantha's thrilled. Says it'll be just like old times.

“Just like old times.”

When I trusted someone and got my heart broken. When I thought I understood love and got proved spectacularly wrong.

"I really should call Dani," I say. "Before William starts incorporating healing crystals into his tiramisu recipe."

"Rosalind—"

“Handle HR crises promptly is just employing good business practices.”

"Is that what we're doing?" He steps closer, and suddenly the cabin feels very small. “Employing good business practices?”

“Amongst other things,” I say, checking my phone again. “Things I wish I could discuss right now…” I swallow. “But we can’t. We have so much to do.”

Grayson’s gaze lowers before it meets mine again. “You’re right.”

Another email from Emily catches my eye:Not to be presumptuous, but sources say your relationship with Dixon has transformed both your businesses. But don’t you want your business to be more than just a romance, Ms. Carpenter. What happens when the publicity around you and your new beau fades?

What happens indeed.

My phone buzzes one final time. Dani:God help us all. Feng shui guy says office needs complete energetic realignment. William now baking karma-cleansing cookies while manifesting positive vibes. Entire lobby smells like sage and sourdough.

"We should probably..." I wave at the cabin's main room, still cluttered with evidence of Alex's bachelor days. "Handle the actual work we came here to do."

Another glance at my phone, a quick check of road conditions, confirms what the steadily falling snow already tells us – we're not going anywhere for a while. Which means hours more of careful distance, of pretending last night didn't change everything, of trying not to notice how Grayson's t-shirt clings to his shoulders as he moves furniture with irritating competence.

Outside, the snow continues to fall, as I try to remember the two of us are old enough to know better. We’re both in our 40s. Both professionals. We have work to do.

Even if neither of us can quite remember what "professional" means anymore.

19

THE ALGORITHM OF DOUBT

SecureMatch Headquarters,Seattle, WA

GRAYSON

Six days until Valentine's Day, and I'm staring at lines of code like they might explain why every conversation with Rosalind since the cabin has felt increasingly distant. She answers when I call, but her mind seems elsewhere – always rushing off to help Mrs. Rodriguez at Meet Cute or handle another of Dani's dating disasters.

"Just swamped with work," she'd said this morning, her voice carrying that forced brightness I'm starting to recognize. “It would bery professional of me to maintain focus on priorities."

But something in her tone suggested those priorities might include keeping careful distance from the kind of men who kiss her in mountain cabins.

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