Page 56 of Big D!ck Energy

Sam sighed so deeply I thought she might pass out. “Work on it and remember no one can know the truth. Not your best friend, not your sister, not your doorman, not your barista. Nobody. It only takes one person who thinks they're helping by telling the real story to the wrong person, and boom.” She made an explosion gesture. “Career suicide for both of you.”

“Not even Brooke?” Davina asked, and the hurt in her voice was obvious.

“Especially not Brooke,” Sam said firmly.

“This is insane,” Davina muttered.

“This is damage control,” Sam corrected. “Now, both of you, tell me your story. How did you fall in love?”

I looked at Davina, then back at Sam. “We met through Brooke and Matt. Started talking at one of their dinner parties. She challenged everything I said, didn't fall for any of my usual charm…”

“That part's believable,” Davina interjected.

“And I realized I'd never met anyone like her,” I continued, surprised to find the words coming easily. “Smart, funny, called me on my bullshit. We started meeting for coffee, secretly. Then dinners. Then…”

“Then Dallas showed up at my podcast studio one night with takeout when I was working late,” Davina picked up the thread, and I tried not to look surprised at how smoothly she improvised. “Said he was just in the neighborhood, even though nothing is in that neighborhood.”

“And Vegas?” Sam prompted.

“Watching Brooke and Matt get married,” I said, looking at Davina instead of Sam. “Seeing how happy they were. I just... knew. Didn't want to wait anymore.”

“The chapel was my idea,” Davina added softly. “Because why wait for someday when you have today?”

The words felt too real for comfort.

Sam slow-clapped. “Better, but still needs work. Practice it until you can tell it in your sleep. Add details. What kind of takeout? What was she wearing on your first date? Make it real in your minds, and it'll be real to everyone else.”

She headed for the door, then paused, looking back with sympathy flickering across her face. “For what it's worth, you two look good together like a couple who'd either kill each other or die for each other, but never anything in between.”

“That's... sweet.” Davina forced a smile.

“That's marketable,” Sam corrected. “Remember, six months minimum, confidentiality forever, and for God's sake, look like you at least like each other. I've seen prisoners of war with more chemistry.” Her smile widened. “Oh, and get ready for red carpets and premiers. Dallas’s new movie releases soon.”

She swept out, leaving us in silence.

“So,” I said finally, “that went well.”

She picked up the postnup, weighing it in her hands. “Six months.”

“Minimum.”

“We're going to have to live together for six months.”

“Minimum.”

“Pretend to be in love for six months.”

“Minimum.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “We're so screwed.”

“Minimum,” I agreed, and we both started laughing.

We’d basically spent all morning planning for nothing. Sam had swept in like a hurricane and destroyed all of it in her path.

“We should head over to your place,” I said. “Get what you’ll need for the next few months.”

This was going to be an interesting six months… Minimum.