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“It is.” I glance down at my hands, then back up at her. “My label is… forcing me to clean up my image.”

Laney tilts her head. “Forcing you?”

“They think I need to be more settled. More stable. Their solution? A fake girlfriend.”

She blinks, then scoffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Tell me about it.” I huff out a dry laugh. “But it’s either that or deal with them breathing down my neck for the foreseeable future.”

She shakes her head. “So, have you picked someone?”

I watch her, letting a slow, amused smile tug at my lips. “I have someone in mind.”

Laney nods encouragingly. “Then go for it.”

My grin widens. “You sure?”

“Of course.” She nudges me lightly. “You should pick someone you can at least stand to be around, though.”

I chuckle. “I think I’ve got that covered.”

She gives me an approving look. “Good.”

I pause, then say it. “It’s you.”

Laney freezes, her breath catching. “What?”

I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees. “I want you to be my fake girlfriend.”

She stares at me, processing. “Eddie, I—”

“I’ll pay you,” I add quickly, sensing her hesitation. “I don’t expect you to do it for nothing.”

She shakes her head, flustered. “It’s not about the money. It’s just… I don’t know. I mean, me?”

I meet her gaze, serious now. “Yeah. You.”

Silence stretches between us, the only sound the faint shuffle of the horses in their stalls. I watch her closely, waiting for her reaction, knowing this might be the moment everything changes.

12.Laney

I stare at Eddie,my heart pounding so hard I feel it in my throat. Did he just ask me to pretend to be his girlfriend? For a moment, I think I misheard him, but the way he’s watching me, expectant and serious, tells me I didn’t.

A fake relationship.

My stomach twists. Of course it would be fake. Why would it be real? I’m just some girl he’s saved—twice now. A girl who has no home, no real direction, no stability. And Eddie is a wildly successful musician, a man with the world at his feet, who could have anyone he wanted. Someone polished, glamorous—someone who belonged in his world.

And yet, he’s asking me.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Eddie… I don’t know if I’m right for this. I mean, you could find anyone—someone more suited to this, someone who—”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “I hate the idea of some stranger being in my space, pretending to be close to me. But you? I enjoy having you around, Laney. I feel comfortable around you.”

Great, now I’m an old pair of slippers.

My heart lurches, and I grip my hands together to stop myself from shaking. “How long?”

“It’s only four weeks. Then I go on tour and you can walk away.”