He mouths back.More than okay.
I feel a blush rising, but try to brush it off as he wraps up his call.
“You look perfect. They’re going to love it. You look like a pro,” he says with a grin as we head to the door.
My stomach does a little flip at his compliment. I know it’s for show, part of our act, but the warmth in his eyes seems genuine. I try not to read too much into it.
“Well, I bet I don’t swing like one,” I reply. “But I’ll do my best to make you look bad.”
He chuckles as he locks it behind us. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Golfing isn’t an activity I’d normally choose, but Wren used to play with his friends occasionally. I’d always preferred to stay behind, alone painting or with Amber.
“How about I drive us there? No driver. It’ll look more… married.”
“Yeah, good idea,” I say as it dawns on me. “Do clubs even fit in your car? And do I have clubs?”
“I got you a set. But if you don’t like them, we can get others,” he says as we get to his red car and he opens the door for me.
“Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m planning to make this a regular thing.” I give him a small, teasing smile, brushing off the seriousness as I slip into the seat.
“You might surprise yourself,” he says, pausing at my door. “Golf’s actually a good outlet. You might enjoy it.”
“We’ll see.” The words come out lighter than the thoughts behind them. I wonder how many more of these outings we’ll have together before our arrangement runs its course. Once Oliver secures his deal with Mr. Warne, will there be any reason for us to keep up with this charade? It’s strange to think that, soon enough, this could all be over… The late nights watching our favorite show, the breakfast bagels and notes, the shared quiet moments. I push the thought away, unsure why it leaves me feeling hollow.
He closes the door and, shockingly, the clubs actually do fit. The interior is just as stunning as I’d imagined, with leather seats and perfectly coordinated colors. I’ve never been one for fancy cars, but if I were in his position, maybe I’d go all out too.
I settle into my seat. “So, let me get this straight. We play golf, act like a couple, and that’s it?”
“Pretty much. We’ll probably play nine holes and then have lunch with them.”
“So, what does his wife do?” I ask, trying to gather as much information as possible before this meeting. The more I know about these people, the better prepared I’ll be to navigate conversations without revealing our arrangement.
“Honestly, I think Eden worked in administration for him, but I’m not sure anymore.”
I give him anare you seriouslook. “You’re trying to impress the guy, and you don’t know what his wife does?”
He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “I know the important stuff. He’s married, has kids. I think she worked in admin, but I don’t know her hobbies or anything.”
Shaking my head, I laugh softly. “Alright, I’ll just fake it till I make it.” I imagine myself smiling through awkward conversations, complimenting Eden’s outfit, and finding something we might have in common. I’ll have to be careful not to slip up about our relationship timeline, and I’ll need to look atOliver with the right amount of affection. Not too much to seem fake, but enough to be convincing. At least the golf part gives us something to focus on besides conversation.
We’re there in less than twenty minutes. I quickly spot the sign for Liberty National Golf Club.
As we pull up, the resort comes into view. Lush green grass, immaculate trees, it all screams wealth. Suddenly, nerves twist in my stomach, and I wonder if I can really pull this off… or should I say,we.
We walk side by side to the entrance, our hands not quite touching, though close enough that anyone watching might expect us to reach for each other at any moment. I glance around, realizing we don’t have our clubs. “Do we need to bring them in?” I lean into Oliver and whisper so no one else can hear.
“They’ll take care of it,” he says.
I nod, trying to relax. His hand brushes mine, and I flinch, momentarily forgetting we’re supposed to be acting like a couple. Taking a breath, I unclench my hand and let him slip his fingers through mine. My heart speeds up as we walk in, passing women with perfect makeup, manicured nails, and designer golf clothes. They look like they belong in a fashion magazine, the kind who make you feel underdressed in an instant. I can only imagine what Eden is going to be like.
Oliver walks us up to a guy with dark gray hair, a silver beard, and black-framed glasses. A woman in navy pants and a white polo shirt stands beside him. Her polished yet soft features make my shoulders relax a little, giving me hope she might be easy to talk to.
The man's gray eyes light up. “Hi, Oliver and Karley. Thanks for joining us.” He shakes Oliver's hand.
I disconnect my hand from Oliver’s to shake his. “Thanks for inviting me today.”
“What happened to your hand, dear?” Eden gasps, her dainty polished nails covering her lips but not touching her lipstick.
