Page 93 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

After that, Nancy had pulled out photo albums, eager to share pieces of Nate’s childhood that even he had forgotten. There were pictures of baby Nate, with those same striking blue eyes he still has. He was absolutely adorable. Then, there were photos ofhim as a kid playing in the park and teenage Nate, brooding and long-limbed.

“He was always making noise,” Nancy had laughed, showing us more pictures of him drumming. “But such perfect rhythm, even then.”

Looking at those photos did something to my heart—made it squeeze and flutter in ways that took me by surprise. I couldn’t help imagining what our children might look like—if our engagement were real. Would they have Nate’s eyes? My smile? His musical talent?

But our engagement is only temporary, I remind myself for the hundredth time. Even though my body still tingles from his touch last night, and even though waking up in his arms feels more natural than breathing.

“Your turn,” Nate says, emerging from the bathroom with just a towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets trail down his chest, and suddenly, the Space Needle seems a lot less appealing.

He catches me staring and smirks. “Sure you don’t want to stay in?”

“You’re insatiable.” I grab my clothes and duck into the bathroom before I can change my mind about leaving the hotel.

Under the hot spray, I try to quiet the voice in my head that keeps counting down the hours we have left.

And then what?

Back to our separate lives—to a demanding career that, while it’s always been my dream, leaves no time for a meaningful relationship? Back to ignoring the way my heart races when Nate looks at me like I’m everything?

A knock at the door interrupts my spiraling thoughts.

“Lacey? You okay in there?”

I realize I’ve been standing under the water for who knows how long. “Yeah, just... thinking.”

“About what?”

About how I might be falling for you. About how this fake relationship is starting to feel more important than my career and how terrified that makes me.

But I can’t say any of that.

“About whether we should do the Space Needle first or Pike Place Market,” I lie, my voice surprisingly steady.

There’s a pause. Then, softly, “Whatever you want, babe. Today’s all yours.”

The tenderness in his voice nearly undoes me. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t just want today.

I want every day.

We emerge from the hotel, both dressed to blend with the tourist crowd. Nate’s traded his usual rockstar aesthetic for worn jeans and a plain gray T-shirt, a Mariners cap pulled low over his eyes. I’ve borrowed one of his hoodies—navy blue and deliciously oversized—paired with leggings and sneakers. My hair’s tucked up in a messy bun, and big sunglasses complete the disguise.

“You definitely don’t look like a glamorous movie star,” he murmurs, tugging playfully at the sleeve that nearly swallows my hand.

“That’s the point. Nobody will look twice at me in these oversized clothes.”

“I will.” His eyes darken as he pulls me close for a kiss that makes me forget we’re standing on a public sidewalk.

The Space Needle isn’t crowded this early. As we rise in the elevator, Nate stands behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. I lean back against his chest, breathing in the clean scent of his soap mixed with the masculine scent of—him.

“Look,” I point as we reach the observation deck. The city spreads out below us, the morning fog lifting to reveal glimpses of water and mountains.

When I turn to gauge his reaction, his smile nearly stops my heart. He looks gorgeous and carefree as the wind whips his dark hair.

We wander the deck slowly, and I catch him watching me more than the view. Every time our eyes meet, electricity zips through my veins. It’s ridiculous how affected I still am by him, how one look can make me forget to breathe.

“What?” I ask after the third time I catch him staring.

He shakes his head, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Just... memorizing.”

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