"Yes."

"Oh, um," Maisie's manager, Andrea, hesitates. There's a shuffling sound on the other end of the phone as if she's adjusting it from one ear to the other. "I'm sorry, I just want to confirm I heard correctly. Did you say yes?"

Maybe I shouldn't have blurted it out so quickly. But when she said what she did, how could I not say yes? I'm ninety-nine percent sure I've just made a complete fool of myself now.

"I, um—Yes." I squeeze my eye close, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I said yes."

"Oh, um, okay," Andrea responds, followed by another extended pause and some more shuffling. I push the keyboard on my desk away from me as I rise from my seat to pace my office. Finally, she continues, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to repeat it because I'm not sure you fully understood what I said."

"Gus, can I borrow this one?" my sister Lucy whispers, blowing a piece of her brown hair out of her face, a smudge of flour from the bakery she works at down the street decorating her forehead. She's seated across from me in my new office, the one I got with my promotion, flipping through one of the ARCs—Advance Reader Copies, essentially close-to-final versions of the book in paperback form—stacked on my desk. "Enemies-to-lovers is my favorite."

I shake my head, trying to focus on what Andrea is saying, and then pivot to pace around my cramped, disheveled office. It's an absolute disaster in here—manuscripts strewn across my desk, bookshelves barely half-filled, boxes of freshly arrived publications awaiting their release dates. The chaos is only interrupted by a small area by my monitor where a snail-shaped planter sits and a card that has two little tea cups clinking together and reads Happy 27th Birthday to my Best-Tea, that Maisie got for me a few months ago.

"Maisie needs a fake boyfriend," Andrea continues. "A staged romance, if you will, for publicity leading up to her tour for the next six weeks."

"Yeah, that's fine," I say to Andrea. "I can do that."

"Oh, wait, no, I want this one." Lucy's voice interjects again. I turn to her once more, finding her flipping through a different book, one she's not supposed to be touching. She begins reading the blurb on the back. "When a grumpy vampire pretending to be human meets a divorce lawyer — Hey!"

I quickly snatch the book from her hands, tossing it back onto my desk, and shoot her a sideways disapproving glare.

"You can?" Andrea questions through the phone, clearly surprised by my response. A wave of unease punches me right in the chest. Maybe she didn't expect me to agree to this. Maybe I should have said no. "Okay, um, did you perhaps want to hear the conditions before you... agree?"

"Oh." Yeah, I definitely responded too quickly. "Right, yeah, sure, please continue."

I turn to pace in the other direction, watching as my sister grabs a copy of a book from my desk titled The Hot Doctor (which is not mine; it was left by the previous editor) and flips through it. Her cheeks tinge pink, and she hurriedly puts the book back down and grabs another from the pile. "Do you really have to read all of these?"

Andrea goes on, "We would control the whole narrative. Make sure the fabricated story aligns with Maisie's image. Of course, she wants to make sure you are financially compensated for all of this for your participation as well."

"She wants to pay me to..." I say, pausing for a moment. "Date her?"

"Pay you to what?" My sister whisper-yells, her head suddenly snapping up. I quickly shush her, her brown eyebrows shooting up as she throws the book onto the desk, walks around to where I'm standing, and leans in to listen.

"For the inconvenience, yes," Andrea says. "It would be—"

"No," I interject firmly. "No, if Maisie needs help, then I'll help. I don't need the money."

"Maisie?" My sister mouths, her eyes widening, and then whispering, "She's going to pay you to date her? Like... like an escort?"

I glance at her, my brows furrowing, shaking my head before brushing past her.

"Well, August, this means we'd need you to take some time off from work. We want to make sure you're compensated for that time off. With Maisie's schedule, you'll be traveling to New York and Los Angeles, maybe a few other places."

"I can make it work."

"Okay, but, if it becomes an issue, we'll have a check ready for you. As for the actual details, it would only be for about six weeks. So not forever. You two would just need to be out in public, stage a few photo ops for the paparazzi, and make a few extended public appearances to maintain the illusion, and..."

She continues as I put my phone on speaker, my fingers already pulling up Maisie's contact. "You need me to date you?"

The blue typing bubbles immediately appear and then disappear about four times before a text finally comes through. "For pretend."

Another follows quickly. "Pretend August."

Then another. "The pretend part is important."

I smile. "What are we? Ten?"

The bubbles tease again before her text comes in. "Can I call you when I'm done rehearsing?"

I hesitate, typing back, "Are you still coming over later? Let's talk then."

"Yeah, okay."

I glance up from my phone to my sister. Her eyes widen, and her jaw hangs slightly ajar as she listens to Andrea.

"We'll also need you to sign a nondisclosure form, which means no one else can know about this arrangement," Andrea continues. I quickly switch off the speaker and put it to my ear again, turning to look at Lucy. "And there's also a form for publicity rights, just standard stuff to ensure Maisie's image stays on track. It wouldn't look great if something like this got out in the public eye."

"Right," I say, giving my sister a pointed look. Lucy zips her mouth shut and mimics throwing away a key over her shoulder. I shake my head at her. There's no way my little sister is going to be able to keep a secret like this from my family for more than a few hours, not with our older sister who acts like a human lie detector and will interrogate the information out of her the moment she realizes she's not telling her something. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Perfect. I'll send over the forms for you to sign, along with a few dates that work for you to come in this week to discuss her schedule. Sounds good?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

I hang up the phone and stare at the screen for a moment, a bit shocked by that phone call before I glance back up at Lucy. She has her lips pressed together in a thin line, clearly trying to suppress a smile, before she blurts out, "You're going to fake date Maisie for publicity."

My jaw tightens. "You can't say anything."

"I won't, I promise I won't, but wow. This is just... wow," she pauses, glancing around my office. "I thought this kind of stuff was made up."

"What was made up?" I ask, settling back into my seat at my desk, rubbing my palms against my slacks. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be able to work after that phone call.

"The fake dating with celebrities," she says, sinking back into her chair.

"Apparently it's not."

"Do you think her relationship with Noah Wilde was fake?" she asks after a moment.

"I don't know," I admit, blowing a breath between my lips as I brush back a loose strand of hair that's fallen on my forehead. "Probably not."

"Wow," she says again, rocking back and forth in her chair, grinning still.

"It's not a big deal," I tell her, but god, this is a really big fucking deal.

Her face scrunches up. "What do you think Gwen is going to say when she finds out about this?"

I glance back at my computer, pretending to refocus on my emails. "She won't have an opinion."

She shoots me an oh, come on, Gus look. "When has Gwen not had an opinion about Maisie? Don't you think she's not going to like you dating—"

"Fake," I correct, straightening out my keyboard. It knocks over my Best-Tea birthday card and I quickly prop it back up.

"Whatever. Fake dating Maisie?"

"It doesn't matter what Gwen's opinion is because she is not my girlfriend anymore."

Yes, Gwen and I share a complicated history. Five years of breaking up and getting back together—this last time being the shortest amount of time—for various reasons I'd rather not dwell on. And after half a decade together, our relationship is entangled and muddled. But the truth is that, of course, I loved her, I was just never in love with her.

Gwen is amazing. Honestly, she's incredible. We are compatible in a lot of ways. Our schedules worked well, we liked the same things—food, movies, books—and have similar life goals. On paper, we are perfect. Gwen is the type of woman any man who laid eyes on her would have proposed and gotten married to. It's just that she's not the right type of woman for me.

The right type of woman is about five foot five, has buttery blonde hair, the clearest blue eyes, a collection of multi-colored china coffee mugs she stores at my house because she hasn't bought a house of her own, and has absolutely no clue how completely in love with her I am.

I'm not sure she's ever seen me as anything beyond her best friend. Her best friend who used to wander into Hannigan's Market almost every day after high school to see if she was working. She'd be there in her hunter-green Hannigan's t-shirt, a black apron draped over it, and those white Converse she had doodled yellow and pink flowers on. I'd amble my way in just to see if her hair was pulled back or pinned up with one of her pink strawberry barrettes, or if it was down in those wavy curls.

I had been too bashful back then to ask her out, and even after I finally talked to her in college. By the time I talked myself into it, she had to leave to go back home to her mom. We had still text, call, and FaceTime, but when things progressed with her mom, it felt like I had missed my opportunity. Then, she pulled away, cut me off, and left me with no choice but to be trapped in the friend zone.

She'd started using terms like just friends, pals, best friends (emphasis on the friends), or she'd give me birthday cards with Best-Tea written on them. She stuck me right there in that friend zone, and it's been that way ever since.

And then, to top it all off, she became famous practically overnight. Maisie had been out of my league then, but now more so than ever—dating screenwriters and actors from Los Angeles.

So, I started dating Gwendolyn Caldwell. And for a long time, I thought I'd gotten over Maisie. I thought I was okay with just being her friend. Especially after she moved to LA for that year, always traveling for work. She was rarely ever around here in Boston. And I was happy with Gwen. Focused on our relationship. I had convinced myself I'd tossed those feelings away.

But it turns out, I hadn't. I'd just tucked them away.

And now I'm forced into this gray area where she only ever lets me be her best friend, but all I want is more.

Lucy hums as she thinks for a minute. "Is it weird to have to work with Gwen's sister?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't really work with her. She's based in New York."

"Really? Because I saw her on my way up," she says, gesturing with her thumb behind her.

To add to all the complexities of my relationship with Gwen is her sister, Emilia. She played a big role in getting me this job. Well, not this specific job, but she opened the door for me as a junior editor. She knew a friend of a friend of a friend who needed a junior editor, and from there, I worked my way up. Emilia is now an agent at the well-known Sterling & Stratton Literary Agency in New York, and we sometimes work together. In fact, I currently serve as an editor for one of her writers.

"You did?" I ask, pressing two fingers against the crease between my brows.

"Yeah, I did," Lucy nods. "She said hi to me. Mentioned she's here for the next few months, spending time with her parents in the Cape."

"Oh," I nod back. "Perfect."

Fucking perfect, I tell myself. Just what I need.

I must have some sort of pained expression on my face because Lucy sits up in her chair and decides not to push on the subject.

She clears her throat. "Well, I should probably get back to the bakery." And then gestures towards the book she had been flipping through on my desk. "Can I borrow this book though?"

"These are for you," I say, sliding over a stack of historical romance books that I snagged from Abby, one of the editors in the romance department down the hall.

She gasps. "Now I remember why you're my favorite older sibling."

I huff out a laugh as she stands, juggling the stack of books, her purse, and her apron with the little Sugar Moon Bakery logo. "I'll see you later, big bro. Thanks for showing me your new office and for the books."

"Yeah, anytime," I say, watching her make her way towards the door.

She pauses in the doorway, swiveling to look at me again, books cradled in her arms. "I can't believe you're going to be dating," her voice dropping to a whisper so quiet that she's pretty much just mouthing it, "Maisie."

Yeah, me either.

——————

I'd loves to hear your thoughts on the book so far!

What are your impressions of August, Gwen, and Maisie?

tysm everyone for reading, commenting, and voting! ❤️