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Would she? Would Rosabel take things between us up a step?
The thought had a claim on my bloodstream. It had a physical effect on my ability to function at a normal level.
I blamed Maddox. If my best friend’s fake relationship with his model hadn’t turned out so amazingly, if he and Adrian hadn't kept nudging me about stepping it up with Rosabel now that she was single again, I would never have given it a second thought.
But a fake relationship might be what both Rosabel and I needed. I mean, fake wasn’t what I wanted, but she might go for fake before she’d go for real.
I strolled to the window and parted the blinds with two fingers. The street below was noisy with cars and traffic—which, for a small town like Westville, Vermont, was saying something.
“My grandma is turning ninety-five.”
I spoke with my back to her, knowing innately that she was still there. Still listening.
“Congratulations.” She didn’t sound like she meant it.
There was the snark I was hoping for.
I faced her. “I’ve been invited home to celebrate her birthday, but I’d prefer not to go alone.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I want them to think I’m seeing someone.”
Her brow did this little twitch thing. “Aren’t you?”
If I was, she would know. She knew my schedule better than I did.
The jackhammer took over my heart again. This time, I didn’t back down. This time, I said it.
“Yeah. You.”
The word unleashed one of the chains tightly binding around my heart. The sensation was so distinct, it threw me for a split second.
A scoff escaped, and she shook her head. “You’re so full of yourself.”
I sallied on. “I may have mentioned I’d bring someone to the party. And since I didn’t tell her who, my mother may have misconstrued the nature of our relationship.”
Rosabel’s gaze swept to the window, to the giraffe-necks undoubtedly peering in our direction. I glanced back, too. Several of them ducked back behind their cubicles.
“Unbelievable,” she said. “Your MOM thinks we’re dating, too? Is there anyone who doesn’t?”
I had no words. It wasn’t my fault she’d barged into my office when I’d been changing.
Rosabel folded her arms. “What exactly have you been saying to give her that impression?”
“Nothing.” I sounded too defensive, so I took it down a notch. “You just come into my mind more than I realize, I guess, so when she asked, I assumed you’d come.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m stuck being around you all the time.”
Her almond eyes thinned to slits. “If you’re about to ask something of me, you’re not off to a great start.”
“I’m just saying—well, enough people think we’re dating. Why don’t we?”
There. Cat—out of bag. It wasn’t a confession. It was just an implication. Just a question.
Rosabel closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. At least she’d stopped crying.
