Page 38 of Silver Fake

Lisa groans, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to kill Melissa," she mutters under her breath, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

At her words, a chuckle escapes me. "So it is true, then?"

Lisa sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Yes," she admits, meeting my gaze in the mirror once again. "It's true."

Surprised by her answer, I sit up a little straighter. "Then why didn't you go?" I ask, my voice filled with genuine curiosity.

A strange look crosses over Lisa's face, her eyes become distant, almost sad. I'm about to question her, but then, it disappears as quickly as it came.

She swiftly replaces it with a bright smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Who needs the stress of law school when you can just get paid to babysit grumpy lawyers all day?" Lisa says, her lips curving into a playful smile as she applies her mascara.

Although her explanation sounds reasonable, something about the way she says it makes me think there is more to it. I make a mental note to revisit this topic later. There's a story there, and I intend to find out what it is.

But for now, I'm just going to let it go.

"Fair enough," I say as I walk up behind her. I put my arms around her waist and for a second I stare at our reflection in the mirror.

I tower over her petite frame, my dark features contrasting against her fair complexion. Her hair, still damp from the shower, is a vibrant cascade of chestnut waves against my stark, black suit.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and I'm taken aback by the intensity of our combined gaze. The way she fits into the curve of my arm, the way our bodies align perfectly, it's as if we were made for each other.

"You look beautiful," I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lisa blushes, turning in my arms to face me. "You sure are taking this fake boyfriend thing seriously, aren't you?" she teases, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

I smirk at her. "I'm a lawyer. I take everything seriously."

Lisa gives me a coy look, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "In that case," she begins, "I have one more fake boyfriend request."

I raise an eyebrow in anticipation. "Name it."

She takes a step back, motioning towards her dress hanging on the wardrobe door.

"I need help changing into my dress. The zipper keeps catching."

Her tone is casual, but there's a certain vulnerability in her eyes that takes me by surprise. It's a momentary glimpse into the fact that beneath her strong, independent exterior, there's a softer, more delicate side to Lisa. A side that's not afraid to ask for help when she needs it.

"Of course," I respond warmly, releasing her from my embrace. Lisa gives me a small smile before disappearing into the bathroom with her dress. As the door closes behind her, I hear the hum of Lisa's hair dryers and I find myself lost in thought.

The lines between our pretend romance and reality have blurred in a way that leaves me both excited and terrified. A part of me wants to explore this newfound territory, to push the boundaries and see where this could lead. I even contemplate asking Lisa to stay the night after the wedding, to spend more time together and perhaps uncover the layers of this complex equation we've found ourselves in.

But before I can delve further into that thought, the bathroom door creaks open, pulling me out of my internal dialogue.

Lisa steps out, looking breathtaking in her beautiful dress. But what surprises me is the sight of her overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

Lisa must catch me looking at it because she quickly explains, "I hope you don't mind if I leave this in your car. I've already talked to Denise, and I'm going home with her and Brett after the wedding."

Her words reverberate in my skull, their echo leaving a bitter taste. A wave of disappointment washes over me, but I quickly squash it. The timing isn't right, I tell myself. If there's one thing I've learnt in my years as a lawyer, it's that timing is everything.

Quickly clear my throat and manage to utter the words, "Of course not."

Lisa smiles and sets her bag by the door. Then she turns around.

Her back is bare, the dress hanging open, waiting for me to pull it together.

"Can you zip me up?" she asks over her shoulder, her voice soft.

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