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“I take it I came up pretty quick,” he says with a sigh. “Just don’t read too much of the stuff you see on there.”
Emma Latchkey, Macy Miller, Sarah Kempts, Jade Ryan. I ogle the list of his high-profile celebrity girlfriends. My heart sinks as I realize I actually thought this guy was into me—the me that’s from a tiny town in Arkansas who hardly wears makeup. And on the rare occasions that I do wear makeup, I can’t even draw a decent eyeliner wing—despite the numerous TikTok tutorials I’ve watched.
There’s no way I’m anywhere near this guy’s level.
“You’re a big deal,” I say, setting the phone down. “What brings you to Arkansas?”
“I’m on my way home to Texas for my brother’s wedding,” Wade says across the table from me, taking a sip of his coffee. “I haven’t seen my family in nearly a year, and I, uh,” he pauses, studying my face for a few moments, “I need your help.”
Hesitating, I glance down at the picture of Wade Lewis on my Google search and compare it to the man across the table from me—it’s definitely him. “What could I possibly do to help you? Do you even know who I am?”
“You’re Callie Walker, the girl who drops her pen and drinks vanilla lattes? I’m assuming you’re also a writer—per your conversation with the barista. And I’m guessing you’re probably from around ... here?”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s a start. I’m from a town just north of here, actually, but close enough. So what exactly are you wanting from me though? I don’t write celebrity memoirs or anything like that, and the last few book reviews I’ve gotten ... well, they weren’t great,” I say with a sigh. I try not to let negative reviews get to me, but it’s easier said than done.
“Right, so you’re a good ‘ole, down-to-earth kinda girl, yeah?” Wade comments, making me squirm in my seat a little.
“Uh … yeah, sure?” I have no idea where this conversation is going, and I’m not sure how to take what he’s throwing at me. Was that some sort of compliment, or insult?
“How’s your writing work going?”
“Not great,” I answer him, honestly. “But I’m doing my best. I have a bit of writer’s block at the moment. It’ll pass though,” I add with a bit of feigned optimism in my voice.
“What are you working on now then?” he asks, his hazel eyes holding mine for a few tense seconds.
“I’m currently in the process of starting a new book, but I can’t seem to find the right kind of inspiration for it. The scenery here is getting mundane, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry about that…” his voice trails off. “What kind of books do you write?” he asks, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I write thrillers for the most part.” I don’t bother to include the fact that my entire career is hanging on by a thread if I can’t come up with some sort of masterpiece in the next month or so.
“Maybe I could help you.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious.
“And how could you help me?” I narrow my eyes at him, my stomach erupting with butterflies. There’s something exciting about this guy...
“Well it sounds like you do need a change of scenery. Arkansas is pretty boring,” he shoots back, his demeanor shifting a little. “So, I’ll offer you a deal.”
“Proceed then,” I say as I narrow my eyes at him, “what’s the deal?”
“You come with me to Texas and pretend to be my fiancée. It’ll serve as some sort of writing escape for you—plus I’ll have my agent get with yours and we’ll work out some sort of monetary compensation.”
Holy crap.
“Um … excuse me? You want me to pretend to be your … fiancée? And you’re going to pay me for it?” I echo, not quite understanding why a famous singer would need to pay someone to be with him.
Wade leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but hear me out. My family is pretty traditional, and they’re always nagging me about my life choices. They’ll be ecstatic if I bring a fiancée to the wedding. And hopefully, they’ll lay off me for a bit if they believe I’m settling down.”
I take a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around this insane proposal. “And why me?”
Wade chuckles, taking another sip of his coffee. “You seem like you could handle it. You’re down-to-earth and you’ve got this girl-next-door vibe that I like about you. You’re also a writer, so I can see you playing the part well...” he pauses for a moment, looking deep in thought. “I just ... I need somebody who’s not going to fall in love with me,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“And why would that be?” I ask, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips.
“Because I’m not interested in commitment,” Wade says, his eyes flickering with a hint of sadness. “All those celebrity girlfriends you saw on Google? They were all in love with the idea of me, not the person. I’m not so sure I even believe in love, but my parents don’t need to know that. So, anyway, are you in?”
I stare at him blankly, my mind racing with questions and doubts.
