For the first time in my life, I searched for a fake boyfriend.
A talent agency downtown answered within the hour.
The woman sounded completely professional.
As though hiring someone to pretend to love you happened every day.
“Just for a few hours,” I explained. “He doesn’t have to do much. Just stand beside me. Smile.”
“Of course. He’ll play whatever role you need.”
After hanging up, I rested both hands on the kitchen counter.
Somehow I had become a woman paying a stranger to make it look as though she was still wanted.
—
We met at a coffee shop the afternoon before the party.
I arrived early, ordered nothing, and shredded a paper napkin while waiting.
When Clark entered, I instinctively looked behind him, convinced someone that attractive had to be meeting someone else.
He was tall, dark-haired, with warm brown eyes and the effortless confidence of someone who belonged in advertisements.
He sat across from me and offered his hand with an easy smile.
“You must be my client.”
He waited patiently.
