Page 14 of Pumpkins & Promises
Emily
I'm walking into Novel Sips, planning to grab a quick coffee before heading to Highland Hollow, when I hear my name.
"That's Emily Holloway," someone says from a corner table. "The one dating that writer."
I slow my steps toward the counter and see two women I recognize from the farmers market. They're not trying to be quiet.
"I saw the post," the first woman continues. "Very romantic. Though I have to wonder if it's real or just part of his image rehab."
"Image rehab?" the second woman asks.
"Oh, you know. After that whole scandal with his ex-girlfriend. Smart move, really. Small-town girl, wholesome family, apple pie and all that. Perfect way to clean up his reputation."
My stomach drops like I've just stepped off a cliff.
"What can I get you?" Andrew asks from behind the counter when I reach it.
"Just coffee," I manage. "To go."
Andrew gives me a concerned look as he prepares my order. "You okay? You seem a little off."
"Fine," I lie, handing her money with hands that aren't entirely steady.
I take my coffee and practically flee the diner, the women's words echoing in my head.Image rehab. Smart move. Perfect way to clean up his reputation.
Is that what this is? What I am?
I drive to Highland Hollow on autopilot, my mind spinning. The Instagram post has over three thousand likes now, and every time I refresh, there are more comments calling me his "comeback muse" and praising how "authentic" our relationship looks.
But authentic for who? For Wesley's brand, or for us?
I find Wesley in the orchard kitchen, sitting at the same picnic table where he made his fake boyfriend proposal. He's got his laptop open and looks genuinely surprised to see me.
"Emily! How are you feeling about the post? The engagement has been incredible?—"
"Can I ask you something?" I interrupt, sitting down across from him.
"Of course." He closes his laptop, giving me his full attention.
"How much is this helping you? The whole fake relationship thing, I mean."
Wesley blinks. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, your agent wanted you to seem more human and relatable, right? And dating someone like me—small-town girl, family business, apple cider donuts—that's pretty much perfect for your image, isn't it?"
Something shifts in Wesley's expression. "Emily, where is this coming from?"
"I heard some people talking in town. About your 'reputation rehab.'" I wrap my hands around my coffee cup, trying to steady myself. "And I just... I need to know if that's what this is for you. If I'm just another PR tool."
"No." Wesley's response is immediate and firm. "No, Emily, that's not—" He stops, runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, yes, having a relationship helps my image. But you're not a tool, you're?—"
"I'm what?"
"You're..." He struggles for words, and his hesitation feels like confirmation of everything I'm afraid of. "You're amazing. You're genuine and kind and you make me laugh, and spending time with you has been the best part of being here."
"But?" I prompt, because I can hear there's a but coming.
"But I'd be lying if I said this wasn't helping my career." He looks miserable. "The post got more engagement than anyone expected. My agent is thrilled. The publishers are interested again."
