Page 177 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“The plan,” she repeats.

“Yes.”

“Just the plan?”

“No.”

Fuck, I should’ve said just yes, but here we are.

“I want to see you after your shift,” I say. “Not for optics. Not because someone needs us to look believable. Because I want to.”

She blinks, and Daisy returns with a little too much brightness in her eyes. “That was a very bold use of honesty in a storage room.”

“I’m branching out.”

“Dangerous. People might start expecting emotional range.”

“Let them be disappointed.”

She laughs softly, then looks toward the café, where life is waiting and the work hasn’t stopped needing her.

“Where tonight?” she asks, swallowing hard.

I shrug, because if I make this too serious, she’ll run or make a joke big enough to shelter both of us. “Your place. Mine. Your choice.”

Her gaze comes back to mine.

“And Puck?”

“Comes with me.”

“Of course he does. Emotional support bear-dog with separation issues.”

“He likes you.”

“He has excellent taste and questionable boundaries.”

Then Bea calls again, louder. “Daisy.”

Daisy exhales and clutches the notebook to her chest. “We’ll see, Wolfie.”

Wolfie.

Not Wolfe.

Wolfie.

She says it like a joke. Like a little poke. Like she hasn’t just put her hand somewhere soft and pressed.

I stare at her.

Her smile gets nervous around the edges.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

“That is not a nothing face.”