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This time because he could. Not because he was pretending.

They ran into Mrs. Evelyn in the elevator. She was ecstatic to see their intertwined hands. “I knew you two would get together,” she told them, though she already informed them that she “knew it” several times while they were still fake dating.

Noah smiled. “You were right.”

“I always am.” She winked. “If only Harold realized that,” she muttered as she walked away.

Seriously, who was Harold?

They approached the table at the restaurant and Noah pulled out her chair. Because that’s who he was.

She thanked him and took a seat. He sat across from her. He reached for her hand across the table without even seeming to think about it and his fingers naturally threaded through hers. His thumb moved over her knuckles, and he did not let go until their food arrived.

Claire looked down at their joined hands and smiled. Even after weeks of pretending, the touch felt different now. Not more intimate, exactly. More honest.

And somehow, that honesty made everything else feel easier.

“This feels surprisingly normal,” Claire told him.

Noah smiled. “Good. I was hoping it would. I think it’s supposed to. Considering this was never really fake, was it?”

“No.” She smiled back at him. “I don’t think it ever really was.”

After dinner, he took her back to Barnes & Noble.

The fact that he was willing to follow her around the romance section and let her read the back cover of every book made her like him even more.

To Claire’s surprise, Noah seemed to genuinely enjoy browsing romance books with his girlfriend.

He also looked suspiciously pleased every time he referred to her as his girlfriend.

She picked up a book with a ridiculous title and handed it to him. “Should I read this one?”

He read the back cover, then grinned at her. “Nah, too much miscommunication.”

He picked up another book and scanned the back. “Fake dating, forced proximity, and no third-act breakup.”

Claire stared at him. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“I always pay attention.”

Claire launched into a rant about why she couldn’t stand the manufactured drama, unnecessary conflict, and miscommunication that romance books seemed to always include.

It wasn’t the first time Noah had heard the rant.

It definitely wouldn’t be the last.

After buying her a stack of books, he took her to get ice cream. They ate it as they walked back toward their apartment building.

Manhattan looked different at night, all glowing storefronts and headlights reflecting off the pavement, the sidewalks still busy even as the hour grew later. Claire had once imagined the city would always feel too big to belong to her.

Tonight, walking beside Noah with ice cream in her hand while he carried the bag of new books for her, Manhattan felt strangely small.

Familiar, even.

Claire took another bite and immediately felt Noah’s thumb brush the tip of her nose.

“What?”