Page 21 of That Fake Feeling

GoodGod, that is a bathroom and a half.Along counter with double sinks, an enormous glass-walled shower, and a claw-foot tub.

Thisplace is the stuff of dreams.Ican’t imagine ever staying anywhere this luxurious even on vacation, never mind living in it.It’snot just beautiful and tasteful—it’s welcoming and cozy.

Myheart sinks asIsnap back to reality.Fora moment there,Iforgot myself.Fora moment, it felt real, likeI’vechecked in for a five-star getaway that’ll be pure indulgence and pleasure.Fora moment,IforgotI’mhere becauseI’vesold my soul to the semi-naked devil.

Iwander back to the desk and admire the pristine yard again.Whata contrast to the photos of the kids playing in the park.

Myhand brushes against a pink folder with my name on it sitting on the desk in front of me.

Inside, there’s a chart that looks like a plan for the next few days.Thefirst entry is for tomorrow.

LOCATION:CentralPark

ACTIVITIES:Rowboatand picnic

PAPARAZZITIPPEDOFF:AfterDarkGossipandEntertainmentCentral

Andthere it is, my first assignment as a pretend girlfriend.

“Hereyou go.”

Ijump at the voice behind me and turn to seeConnorplant my suitcase in the doorway. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Myheart races, and my cheeks heat at the surprise. “Oh, it’s okay.Ialmost didn’t recognize you with clothes on.”

Andthat is partially true.Goodness, he looks different in a pair of khakis and a pale blue button-down that’s open at the neck with the sleeves rolled back to reveal his forearms.Connorcould almost be mistaken for someone who has his shit together.

“Makeyourself at home,” he says, running his fingers through his tidier, but still unruly, hair. “Thekitchen’s in the basement.That’show you get to the yard.Helpyourself to anything.Ihave to go to the office.Thena, er, thing after work.”

Iassume that means a bar, or a club, or a woman, or possibly just sitting in his room avoiding me.

“I’llsee you in the morning,” he says.

Ihold up the folder. “We’regoing boating and picnicking.”

Hesnorts and shakes his head. “Ihaven’t opened my folder yet.”There’sa hint of a sarcastic smile at the corner of his mouth and the possibility of a sparkle in his eye. “Mine’sblue.”

Makessense.Sterlingseems like a color-coordinated kind of guy.

Ishift my gaze back to the agenda. “Well, it sounds like it would be a lovely date.”

“Maybe.”Heshoves his hands in his pockets and turns away. “Ifit were real.”

6

CONNOR

“Havefun, folks,” the boathouse guy says as he slides us off the dock and into the murky waters ofCentralParkLake.

“Haveyou ever done this before?”Roseasks asIgrab the oars and try to navigate us through the flotilla around the dock.

Whata ridiculous question. “Hell, no.WhywouldIdo this?”

“Fairpoint.Doesn’tseem like you do many fun things that don’t involve booze and scantily clad women.”Sheraises a finger. “NotthatI’msaying drunken nights with strangers is fun.That’sthe exact opposite of my idea of fun.”

Inarrowly miss smacking us into the side of two guys who seem to be vlogging their tour.Howthe hell do oars work?

“Andjust exactly how do you fit in fun around all the jobs and schoolwork?”Iask, finally breaking us free of the crowd of boats.