Page 15 of Synced to Us

Dennis ignores Wyn’s observation. “Better yet, why don’t you two announce your engagement at our banquet coming up next week? All our top clients will be there. Including Emerald Spin representatives. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Dennis looks between the two of us.

“That would be perfect,” I respond, the words coating my teeth like unbrushed fuzz, “but we’ll have to get back to you. Wyn’s schedule is…”

“Wide open.”

I stare at Wyn, who spreads his hands and widens his eyes innocently. “What? I’m good to go.”

Papers might as well turn to dust in my clenched hands.

Dennis claps, the sound sharp in the thickened air. “Well, now that this is all sorted, I have work to do. Nice to meet you, Wyn. And, uh, congrats on your upcoming nuptials.” Dennis gives us two thumbs-up before backing out through the doorway. “I’ll keep mum until the banquet since I can’t wait to see you two take center stage and make the announcement to our entire company and clients.”

“Snake,” I mutter at the same time Wyn says, “Fuck off and die, panty-muncher.”

We share a look, my lips tipping with amusement before I blink and set my lips straight. “I’m so sorry about that. I can explain.”

Wyn flicks his hand toward the door. “No need. It was all pretty self-explanatory.”

“But you must be confused. Or insulted. Or both.”

“Not really.”

I squint at him. “I’ve been talking about you as my fiancé at work, and you’re not thrown by it?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Wyn laughs. “I shit a few bricks when you babbled out your confession.”

“Excuse me. I didn’t ‘babble.’ There was only so much time to inform you before—”

“You didn’t let me finish.” But he says it gently, his expression infuriatingly soft. “I was about to finish with, it ain’t so bad.”

I press my lips together. “I’m not sure if you were in the same office as me these past ten minutes. This is very bad.”

“Why, though? So you need to fool your dinky coworker and boss for a while. I’m cool with going to a few functions or two. This banquet gives me a chance to talk to the label mano et mano—they’ve been avoiding my calls. I could even get them to take a chance on my songs. Then, when a few weeks pass, we end it.” Wyn shrugs. “People break up all the time.”

“This might not be enough to stop Dennis.”

“Then we’ll break up amicably. I’ll still take my issues to Emerald Spin Records and tell them to kick Dennis to the curb.”

“You just told me your label won’t talk to you.”

“Dennis doesn’t know that. All he sees is dollar signs if he gets you kicked out of this firm. I doubt he’s done his research on me yet. And when he does, it’ll be too late. Our relationship’ll be made public and he’d be a fool to humiliate me in front of the label with you on my arm. If he’s smart, he’ll bide his time and keep quiet. So will we.”

I close my eyes, giving my head a little shake. This isn’t going in the direction I was prepared for. “The press could get a hold of it. I wouldn’t put it past Dennis to leak this early somehow and really put us under pressure. Your name could be back in the tabloids, Wyn. Wouldn’t you hate that?”

Wyn shuts his mouth and moves to stare out of the skyscraper window again. When Nocturne Court was at their height, the members were stalked relentlessly and the women they dated even more so. Wyn usually had a different girl each week, sometimes multiple. They dubbed him Wingman Wyn, since he was the only single one who refused to settle down, and they often caught him with his pants down. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

I suppose he misses those days. “Are you serious? Mason and McKenna endure so much crap online, and you’ve seemed to flow under it all, maintaining your privacy and barely breaking the surface. Why would you want to change that?”

His eye tics like he’s struggling to hold back a wince, and I realize I might’ve hurt him with that comment. “The press passes me by because I’m not considered relevant anymore. I don’t have kids with another celebrity, and I ain’t dating any, either. You’re looking pretty pale. Do you need water?”

I’m so thrown by his change in topic all I can do is shake my head.

“Oh. Well, I’ll take one.” Wyn moves to my mini fridge and helps himself, humming at the sparkling water options. He finds a bottle, his twist of the cap making a pfft sound in the silent office.

After taking a long swig, he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, covering a large belch.

I exhale through my teeth, silently pleading with my wall to magically transform into an escape hatch.

“There’s something you haven’t considered,” Wyn says. “Maybe I don’t mind being your fake fiancé for a while.”

---