Page 26 of Revenge Brunch and Other Disasters

“Waiting. In the car. I got him a plaid shirt for the picnic. He’s pouting. He wanted to wear his kilt. I told him it was too dressy and he’d end up outshining me. Can’t pull your focus.”

Linda took a sip of the frankly perfect caramel mocha latte and sighed. “You really are the best boyfriend ever. I hate you.”

“But your parents are going to love menext weekend.”

Rhys opened the car door for her. Because of course he did.

She got in and immediately tried not to look at the passenger-side cupholder, where he’d already tucked a backup sunscreen.

SPF 50. Her favorite brand. The kind that didn’t make her smell like coconuts and regret.

Stop it, she told her heart.

Don’t be weird about sunscreen. It’s just responsible skincare. Not a metaphor for caring. Shut up.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, windows down, wind in her hair, their iced coffees making faint clinks in the cupholders.

Then, casually, Rhys asked, “So. Should we hold hands? You know. To sell it for Ryan?”

“Ryan?”

“Yeah, you know? Sara’s date.”

“Of course you remember her date’s name.”

“I’m very committed to the role. So. Hand-holding?”

Linda nearly aspirated on her mocha-not-macchiato. “Fake handholding. Right. Sure. Like actors. Method.” She held out her hand without looking at him. He took it without hesitation.

His thumb brushed hers once. Just a soft arc of pressure. Barely a touch.

And itburned.

He was her fake boyfriend. She was his beard. This was performance art. Like Shakespeare, but with lemon bars and slow ruin.

So why did his fingers feel like the safest place in the world?

They pulled into the park just as Sara and Ryan waved them down from a shaded spot under a tree.

Linda reached for the lemon bars. Rhys reached for the cooler.

Their hands brushed again.

Neither of them moved.

Linda took a deep breath and reminded herselfthis is fake. Everyone thinks it’s real. That’s the job.

Sir Stumps-a-Lot trotted ahead of them like a noble herald in picnic plaid, tail high, leading the way across the grass.

A blanket wasspread out. A cooler rested beside it. And Sara was already sipping from a stainless-steel travel cup that almost certainly held wine.

Sara waved. “Look at this disgustingly cute domestic energy!”

Linda tried to smile. “We aim for nauseating.”

Rhys chuckled. “She’s just upset you beat us here.”

Ryan stood, brushing his hands off on his jeans as they approached. “Hey! Nice to finally meet the famous Rhys and Linda. Sara’s told me all about your brunch rituals.”

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