Kelsey exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around her wineglass.
Elizabeth was watching her, her expression unreadable. “If you’d rather not?—”
“No,” Kelsey said quickly. Too quickly. She cleared her throat. “I mean. Yeah. Let’s go over it.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched, just slightly. Not quite a smile. But something.
Kelsey reached for the paper, her fingers brushing against the edge. The words blurred for a second before snapping into focus.
Independent Contractor Agreement.
She swallowed.
This was really happening.
The wineglass sat untouched in front of Kelsey, condensation beading down the sides like tiny, slow tears. She traced the rim with her thumb, the cool dampness grounding her as Elizabeth’s voice cut through the hum of the bar.
Elizabeth’s voice was steady, methodical, as if she were outlining a court filing rather than a weekend that would upend Kelsey’s entire sense of normal. “Saturday morning departure,” she said, tapping the table once with her index finger, the nail—pale pink, perfectly manicured—catching the dim light. “We’ll leave by eight. That gives us time to check in, settle, and…” A pause. A flicker of something in her eyes, gone before Kelsey could name it. “Prepare.”
Kelsey’s pulse jumped at the word.Prepare.Like this was a performance. Like they were actors memorizing lines instead of two people about to step into something that already felt too real.
“The wedding is at three,” Elizabeth continued, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Ceremony, then reception. We’ll be expected to stay through the evening. Dancing, toasts—all of it.”
Kelsey’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass. Dancing. Toasts.Pretending.She could already feel the weight of Elizabeth’s hand on the small of her back, the way her breath might catch if their eyes met across the room. It wasn’t just about playing a part anymore. It was about surviving it.
Kelsey nodded, her eyes scanning the neat lines of text.
“Shared hotel room,” Elizabeth continued, her fingers brushing against the contract as she spoke, the words precise and measured. The overhead light caught the sharp line of her jaw, the way her throat moved when she swallowed before continuing. “For appearances.” Her voice dropped slightly, just enough that Kelsey had to lean in to catch the next part. “And the payment is five thousand dollars.” She said the amount like it was just another line item in a budget.
Kelsey’s fingers twitched against the wineglass. Five thousand. Enough to cover rent for months, maybe even put a dent in her savings goal. The number burned behind her ribs—too much, too generous—and her throat tightened like she’d swallowed something too hot.
Elizabeth leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed but her gaze sharp. “This covers your time, the outfit, any lost wages. And of course, discretion.”
Kelsey swallowed. Discretion. Right. Because this wasn’t real. None of it was.
She forced herself to look up, to meet Elizabeth’s eyes. “This is fine,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “But I just think… we should probably rehearse a little. Learn each other. Enough that it feels natural if someone asks us something personal. I don’t see how this could work if we just go on Saturday morning and don’t see each other between now and then. I know it’s only two weeks away, but we don’t know each other. At all.”
Kelsey wasn’t trying to manipulate her way into more time with Elizabeth—though, okay, maybe some tiny, selfish part of her was. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that right now, if they walked into a room together, no one would believe for a second that they were anything more than strangers forced into proximity. Elizabeth’s posture was too rigid, her tone too measured, like she was negotiating a plea deal instead of planning a weekend with someone she was supposed to bein love with. And for her? She knew she was a mess.
They didn’t even look likefriends. Friends touched each other’s arms when they talked. Friends leaned in. Friends had inside jokes and shared glances and a history that showed in the way they moved around each other. Right now, Elizabeth was treating her like a witness she had to prep for cross-examination, and Kelsey was too busy trying not to stare at the way Elizabeth’s blazer pulled across her shoulders to remember how to act like a functional human being.
If they didn’t fix this, Elizabeth’s ex-wife would take one look at them and know. And then Elizabeth would be humiliated, and Kelsey would be the reason why. The thought made her stomach twist. She couldn’t let that happen.
Elizabeth’s fingers stilled on the table. “I assumed we could go over the details in the car. Or draft a list of cover stories tonight.”
“But what if—what’s your ex’s name again?”
“Grace.”
“What if Grace asks how we met? Or what our first date was like?”
Elizabeth went very still. The air between them shifted, thickened. Kelsey could see the moment it clicked for her—the realization that this wasn’t just about showing up and playing a part. It was aboutconvincingpeople. About making it feel real.
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened, the muscle flexing just beneath the skin. Kelsey watched it, fascinated, the way the light from the lamp caught the sharp angle of her cheekbone, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. “I can draft a new contract,” Elizabeth said, her voice low and precise, like she was already mentally drafting the clauses. “Add a rehearsal clause.”
Kelsey could practically see the gears turning in Elizabeth’s head—legalese, boundaries, control. That wasn’t what she wanted. Not for this. She shook her head. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “We don’t need to make it official. We can just… meet again. Like this. Casually.” She gestured vaguely between them. “Get to know each other better. Like, actually talk. Not just about this contract.”
Elizabeth’s gaze didn’t waver. It was unnerving, the way she could justlookat someone, like she was dissecting their words before they’d even finished speaking. “You’re asking for moretime,” she said, and Kelsey could hear the hesitation beneath the words, the careful way Elizabeth was measuring each syllable.