Page 96 of Loving You

He shakes his head.

“I don’t think it’s that easy. For one, Cherry could still try to get to me and Danny to you. That guy is a tool, and it fucking bothers me that he thinks he stands a chance. If we do that, this whole thing will have been for nothing.”

I let a smile touch my lips.

“Don’t worry, Miles. I won’t be running to Danny.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that they might try.”

“It would be a real dick move to hit on someone mending a broken heart, even if it’s not real.”

I take a breath and step back. Miles watches my every move, his eyes taking me in from my bare legs all the way until he reaches my eyes.

I know I said it wouldn’t be real, but for some reason, this discussion makes it feel the complete opposite.

“How will we do it?” he finally asks.

I say the first thought that comes to mind.

“I think we should do it at the Fourth of July festival in just over two weeks. It’ll be public, and we know everyone will be there for the big fireworks show.”

He nods. Then he goes back to making the bed.

Miles doesn’t speak again while we finish with the sheets, which is just another reminder that this is it.

My first fake relationship has run its course.

And a part of me is wishing that it isn’t fake and that it isn’t going to end so soon.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MILES

My back hurts.

Fuck.

Being in your thirties isn’t old, but that couch is ready to put up a damn good argument.

I groan and roll off the sofa, rubbing my back and arching backward, stretching in a way that I don’t think the body should ever be stretched. Well, not mine anyway.

I hear two pops before I let out a deep breath.

It’s only for a couple of weeks.

As soon as we get through the next fourteen days, it’s breakup time and back to normal life we go.

I know I’m a workaholic and I can be pretty strict in my free time, but the small pieces of fake dating we did do in public were a nice break. It was a fresh reminder that there is more to life than work. There is more to life than pretending to date someone, too, but baby steps here.

I wander into the kitchen to start some coffee, and my fake girlfriend herself strolls in. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, she’s wearing a red pajama set with white slippers, andthe sleepy dazed look in her eyes gives her this whole innocent look.

I’ll admit this, too: seeing Quinn the moment she wakes up is not the worst thing. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I smiled this much over a woman in my kitchen, if ever.

It might have something to do with the fact that Quinn isn’t expecting anything from me right now. I think we can agree that the morning after sex can be unpredictable, but since that’s not the case with us, I can do whatever I want with no consequences. Funny thing is, though, I want to do something for Quinn, and I wish this were the morning after sex.

“I’m making coffee and was about to cook some bacon and eggs. Do you want some?”

“Mmm, that sounds delicious. Yes, please.”

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