Page 60 of Bleacher Report

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I pull open the drawer slowly, half-expecting glitter to explode in my face.

No glitter. Just a folded note on top of my usual stash of Advil and emergency chocolate.

Didn’t find what you were looking for? Sorry, sweetheart.

But I left your precious mug somewhere that means something—to you and

me—our first fight. Go where the stories live.

The studio.

I break into a jog down the hall.

There it is.

Sitting front and center on my desk like it owns the place. My white ceramic “Microphones & Mayhem” mug, flanked by my soundboard and the leftover scent of Hunter’s body wash and aftershave from this morning.

Taped to the mug, a note reads:

Turns out I do listen. Don’t get smug.

Your reward’s in the fridge.

And yes, it’s chocolate. Because I’m not a monster.

I’m laughing now, shaking my head as I head back to the fridge.

Inside, tucked behind the takeout, is a glossy red box of truffles.

Another note, this one slightly bent from the condensation.

Consider this your prize for surviving a Hunter Reed scavenger hunt.

Sproutacus says hi. Make sure to talk to him a little while I’m gone. He gets lonely up on the windowsill all alone.

See you soon.

—Your Charming Plant Baby-Daddy

I hold the box and the note in my hands for a second, something warm blooming under my ribs. Because yeah, this is fake. It’s all fake.

But for a minute? It doesn’t feel that way.

Not even a little.

At exactly two twenty-five p.m., there’s a knock at the door.

I pause mid-bite of truffle, still half-lounging on the couch in my pajama pants and fuzzy socks. The scavenger hunt had completely erased any memory of the delivery note.

When I open the door, two guys in branded polos are waiting on the porch with a clipboard and a moving truck behind them.

“We’re here to deliver the bed,” one says, friendly but professional. “Mr. Reed asked us to set it up and move the old one to your garage.”

“Deliver the…bed?” I blink. “What bed?”

He hands me the clipboard. And there it is.

Hunter Reed. King-size custom pillow top. The price tag makes my jaw drop.

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