Page 57 of The Plus One Contract

“Another friend. It’s always been the three of us.”

Silence, thick and charged, settles again. I wish I had something wise to say, but I don’t. Not about a father who used violence, not about a brother he’s estranged from. So I watch him, seeing how his fingers tap a slow, restless rhythm near his stomach. He’s so controlled, yet here he’s letting me see a fracture in that control.

He inhales, eyes still on the ceiling. “You wanted to prove something,” he finally says, switching back to my story. “Leaving home. Taking that job. You wanted to prove you could make it on your own.”

My lips twitch in a sad smile. “Fat lot of good it does me, lying to them now, hauling in a fake boyfriend to keep up appearances. I swore I didn’t care what they thought, but apparently, I do.”

Nathan shifts onto his side, not quite looking at me but close. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little backup.”

I swallow a lump that appears unexpectedly in my throat. “This is backup?”

The corner of his mouth curves. “You’re allowed a little fun, Sienna.”

“This is not fun,” I insist, although my heart isn't really in it.

“It’s alittlefun.” His grin is brief but warm.

Rolling my eyes, I push myself upright, ignoring the swirl of relief and embarrassment tangling in my gut. “Come on, Romeo. We should probably go back downstairs before my mom freaks out and assumes you knocked me up in here.”

Nathan drags a hand over his face. “Sounds like a challenge.”

I stand, turning to offer him my hand. For a second, the chaotic hum from downstairs makes me hesitate. Someone’s probably noticing we’re both gone, but as Nathan’s fingers close around mine, a tiny spike of warmth flares in my chest.

“Let’s go,” I say, half to him, half to myself.

He rises, expression shifting from wry amusement to something gentler. For a fleeting moment, I consider how much I hate letting go of his hand, but I do it anyway, stepping toward the door.

Back to dinner. Back to reality. And yet, for the first time all day, I feel less alone.

Twenty-Three

The rest of last night's dinner was tolerable.

Barely.

I think.

I was too busy monitoring the Nathan Proximity Alert System to register the conversation fully.

It wasn't that I was lost in thought. It was more like being hyper-aware of a large, potentially dangerous animal in the room. A very attractive, very present animal. His thigh brushed mine under the table whenever he moved, a casual, electric touch. I saw him practically biting his tongue every time my name came up in some mortifying anecdote. And the way he looked at Daniel and—let's be honest—Jeremy? Pure, unadulteratedI want to punch youvibes.

Which, okay,wasa little flattering.

Mercifully, the conversation eventually veered away from my spectacular life failures, and before I knew it, dinner was over.

Mission: Impress Parents with Fake Boyfriend? Achieved. Disturbingly so.

My mother practically tackled him with a goodbye hug, her face mashed against his chest, lips moving in a muffled whisper I only caught when she finally released him. “He's gorgeous.”

I swear, I half-expected her to start squeezing his biceps. The second-hand embarrassment was almost too much.

I walked him to his car, a tiny, traitorous part of me wondering just how ironclad thatno sexclause really was when he merely pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek, murmuring, “Goodnight, sweetheart,” in that voice that could melt asphalt.

I think I swayed. Like a Victorian maiden overcome with the vapors. Pathetic.

He waited until I was inside before driving off, which was annoyingly sweet.

Upstairs, I changed into pajamas, fully intending to collapse into a sleep fueled by exhaustion and humiliation. Instead, I made the catastrophic mistake of getting into bed, grabbing my phone, and doing exactly what I should have done before agreeing to this insane charade.

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