Emma's pov

Lucas’s words from the doorway still hung in the air as he stepped fully into Ethan’s apartment, bottle of wine in hand. The silence that had followed my blurted “Lucas Bennett” shattered into a new kind of tension. My heart raced so violently I pressed a hand to my chest, willing it to slow. I had just named my brother’s best friend as my secret boyfriend in a desperate bid to wipe the smug look off Ryan’s face, and now the man himself was standing there, taking in the scene with those sharp, observant eyes.

Instead of denying it, instead of laughing it off or asking what the hell I was talking about, Lucas set the wine bottle on the side table with a soft clink. He crossed the room in three unhurried strides, his navy button-down stretching slightly across his shoulders as he moved with that familiar, controlled grace. Without hesitation, he slid onto the chair beside me and wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me gently but firmly against his side. The warmth of his body seeped through my emerald blouse, solid and real, carrying that subtle woodsy cologne that somehow cut through the lingering scents of garlic, roasted herbs, and chocolate cake still hanging in the air.

“I was wondering when you’d tell them,” he said, his deep voice calm and laced with just the right amount of affectionate amusement. His fingers rested lightly on my upper arm, thumb tracing a small, absent circle that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

The table erupted again, but this time with belief. Full, enthusiastic belief.

My aunt clapped her hands, her face lighting up like she’d won the lottery.

“I knew it! The way you two always circled each other at barbecues. It was only a matter of time!”

Ana , my cousin, suddenly leaned forward, grinning widely. “Details! How long? Did Ethan play matchmaker?”

Ryan’s fork clattered against his plate. His charming facade cracked further, surprise flashing into something sharper and uglier. Sarah shifted beside him, her hand tightening on his arm as she forced a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Ethan stared at us, his expression flickering between protective confusion and reluctant acceptance, but he didn’t call us out. Not yet.

I sat frozen under Lucas’s arm, every nerve on fire. His touch was careful,not too possessive, but present enough to sell the story. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my side, the faint heat radiating from his chest through his shirt. My mind screamed that this was spiraling out of control, but his solid presence kept me from bolting. How was he so composed? I had thrown him into this chaos the second he walked through the door, and he was playing along like we’d rehearsed it for weeks.

“Recently,” Lucas answered smoothly for us, his arm staying firmly around my shoulders as he reached for the water pitcher with his free hand and refilled my glass first. The simple action felt intimate and natural. He poured with steady precision, no spills on the crisp white tablecloth, then set the pitcher down exactly in its original spot.

“Didn’t want to complicate things right after Emma’s... situation. But we’ve known each other long enough that it just made sense when it happened.”

I managed a nod, forcing my lips into a smile that I hoped looked genuine and warm. My free hand found his knee under the table, squeezing once in silent thanks,or sheer panic. His leg was warm and solid beneath my fingers, muscles tensing slightly at the contact before relaxing again.

“Yeah. It’s new, but... good.” The words felt thick on my tongue, but with Lucas’s arm anchoring me, they landed convincingly.

Everyone bought it completely. Conversations shifted from shock to celebration. Wine glasses clinked in a chaotic, overlapping toast to “new beginnings.” Dessert plates were passed around again,rich chocolate cake for Ethan’s birthday,and Lucas cut a generous slice for me with the serving knife, sliding it onto my plate with practiced ease, his arm never fully leaving my shoulders. When he passed the serving spoon to my aunt, his fingers brushed mine deliberately. Each small action sold the story perfectly: the way he listened to my aunt’s rapid-fire questions with patient nods, the casual lean-in when a cousin pressed for more details about our “first real date.”

“We kept it quiet at first,” he explained, voice even and warm. “ We had some coffee and longer conversations. Turns out we understand each other better than we thought after all these years.” His thumb continued those slow, soothing circles on my arm, calming my racing pulse even as guilt twisted like a knife in my gut.

Ryan tried to insert himself a few times, his tone edged with mockery.

“Must be quite the rebound, Lucas. Emma’s got high expectations. Hope you’re ready for the full planning spreadsheet treatment.” He laughed like it was a joke, but Sarah’s tight smile showed the underlying strain.

Lucas didn’t rise to the bait. He simply tightened his arm around me protectively, pulling me a fraction closer into his side. “Some expectations are worth meeting,” he replied evenly, his voice carrying that quiet confidence I’d always associated with him during family gatherings. “Emma’s worth it.” The sincerity in his tone made my cheeks heat again. For a fleeting second, it didn’t feel entirely fake.

The dinner stretched on with more questions. How did it start? A late-night talk after the shower fallout, I improvised, my voice gaining strength as Lucas nodded supportively. Shared coffee runs that turned into longer conversations. Lucas added details seamlessly,remembering small things like my terrible attempt at grilling last summer and how he’d stepped in to help without being asked. He got up at one point to grab extra napkins from the kitchen counter, walking with purposeful strides, his hand trailing lightly down my back as he left and returned. The path of his fingers left a trail of lingering warmth in their wake. When he sat back down, his arm returned to my shoulders like it belonged there, natural and effortless.

I watched him in stolen glances throughout the meal. The way he listened more than he spoke, nodding thoughtfully while maintaining eye contact. The precise way he cut his own slice of cake, fork moving with efficient, controlled motions.

This was Lucas Bennett,Ethan’s steadfast best friend, the successful businessman who built things that lasted. And now he was my fake boyfriend, selling the lie with actions that felt almost too easy, too convincing.

As the evening wound down, guests started gathering their things. Hugs and goodbyes filled the apartment with overlapping chatter and laughter. My aunt pulled me into a tight embrace near the door, her perfume enveloping me as she whispered, “He’s a keeper, Emma. Don’t let this one go.” I smiled through the heavy guilt twisting in my chest, Lucas standing close by my side the entire time, his hand resting at the small of my back. The touch was light but proprietary, guiding me subtly as we moved toward the door with the others, his fingers occasionally adjusting to keep me steady on my heels.

Ryan and Sarah left first. Ryan paused directly in front of us in the entryway, offering Lucas a handshake that looked more like a challenge than a farewell. “Take care of her, man. She’s... a handful.” His eyes flicked to me with a mix of regret and irritation lingering in his gaze.

Lucas shook his hand firmly, grip strong and unwavering, his other arm still loosely around my waist. “I know exactly who she is.” The words carried quiet weight, and Ryan’s jaw tightened visibly before he turned away, guiding Sarah out the door.

Once they were gone and the door clicked shut behind the last guests, the remaining tension in the apartment eased like a released breath. Ethan closed the door fully and turned to us in the living room, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Okay. Everyone’s gone. Explain. For real this time.”

Sophie hovered nearby, clearing dessert plates but clearly eavesdropping with quick glances our way. Lucas kept his arm around my shoulders as we moved to the living room couch, the string lights casting a soft, warm glow over everything. I sank down onto the cushions, legs feeling unsteady, and he sat beside me, close enough that our thighs pressed together. The contact was constant now, deliberate and reassuring in public. He was committing fully to “play along.”

“It was impulsive,” I admitted once we were settled, twisting my hands nervously in my lap. Lucas’s hand covered one of mine, stilling the fidgeting with his warm, slightly rough fingers. “Ryan was twisting everything again. Blaming me like always. I panicked and said the first safe name that came to mind. Yours. I’m so sorry, Lucas. You didn’t have to go along with it.”

He shrugged, his arm shifting to drape casually across the back of the couch behind me. “I could’ve corrected it. But I saw your face when I walked in. And Ryan’s. Figured it was easier to play along than watch him keep poking.” His gaze met mine steadily, though the public warmth was already fading. “Plus, like I said earlier,my parents have been relentless. This takes the pressure off for a while.”

Ethan paced a short distance across the rug, processing everything with furrowed brows.

“So you are saying three months? Then a quiet breakup? You two realize you’ll have to sell this convincingly. Family events. Maybe some public appearances if the gossip spreads further online.”

“We’ll handle it,” Lucas said, his tone decisive. He stood smoothly, offering me his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up from the couch. The motion brought me close to his chest for a moment, close enough to feel the steady beat of his heart through his shirt. “Emma and I will talk about the details tonight. Set some clear boundaries.”

Sophie gave me a quick, tight hug near the door, whispering, “Text me later. This is wild, but kind of brilliant.” She left with a final wave, closing the door softly behind her.

Ethan lingered by the door as Lucas and I gathered our things,my purse from the side table, his keys from the counter.

“Drive safe. And Lucas,don’t hurt her. Or I’ll kill you.”

Lucas nodded seriously, expression composed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

We stepped out into the hallway together. The elevator ride down was quiet at first, the low hum of the machinery filling the small space as the numbers ticked downward. Lucas kept his arm around my shoulders until the doors opened smoothly to the lobby. His hand moved to the small of my back as we walked out onto the street, guiding me with gentle pressure toward the parking area. The night air was cool against my skin, carrying distant traffic sounds and the faint, earthy scent of impending rain on the horizon.

“My car’s over here,” I said, pointing to where I’d parked a block away under a streetlamp. We walked side by side along the sidewalk, our steps syncing naturally on the concrete. Lucas matched my pace without effort, hands now slipped into his pockets, but staying close enough that our arms occasionally brushed.

At my car, he waited patiently while I fumbled with the keys, the jingle loud in the quiet night.

“We should talk properly,” he said. “Coffee somewhere? Or my place is nearby if you want privacy.”

I hesitated, keys cold in my hand. The adrenaline from dinner was fading fast, leaving behind deep exhaustion and a confusing swirl of emotions. His arm around me and the easy way he’d sold the lie at the table,it had felt safe in the moment. But now, alone, the weight of what I’d started pressed in heavily.

“Your place then, I need to understand what I just started.”

He nodded once, expression neutral, and gave me the address in clear, direct terms before waiting until I was safely inside my car with the doors locked. He then walked to his own vehicle a few spots down, headlights flashing as he started the engine. I followed his taillights through the city streets, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly the entire way. Streetlights blurred past, casting intermittent glows across the dashboard as I navigated turns and stops. What were we doing? This wasn’t just a dinner save anymore. It was becoming a full plan with real consequences.

Lucas’s building was modern and sleek, with secure underground parking. He waited for me by the elevator bank after we both parked, holding the door open with one hand. In his apartment on the tenth floor, he flipped on soft overhead lights with a quick switch, revealing a clean, minimalist space,dark wood floors, a comfortable but understated leather couch, bookshelves neatly lined with business texts and a few carefully chosen novels. No clutter. Very Lucas.

“Water,” he said flatly, moving to the open kitchen area with efficient, purposeful steps. He filled two glasses from the filtered pitcher in the fridge without waiting for my preference, sliding one across the granite island to me. No offer of wine. No small talk. The affectionate man from dinner had completely vanished, replaced by cool detachment.

He suddenly pulled out a notebook,actual paper, not his phone,and there were some listed boundaries in crisp, clinical terms.

No unnecessary PDA beyond what was needed to sell the story. No sleeping over under any circumstances. Check in by text before any family events. End it cleanly after three months with a mutual, amicable story.

His pen moved in neat, precise handwriting across the page, detailing how we met officially , how we’d handle questions from others, and contingency plans for photos or social media. He didn’t look up much, his voice detached and businesslike, as if we were negotiating a contract rather than a fake relationship.

When I shivered slightly from the air conditioning blowing steadily from the vent above, he noticed but made no move to offer comfort.

“You can adjust the thermostat if you need to,” he said coolly, eyes remaining fixed on the notebook. There was no warmth, no throw blanket, no reassuring touch. Just facts and efficiency.

“This could work,” I said finally, my voice tentative as I pulled my sleeves down over my hands. “Thank you. Again. For going along with all of it tonight.”

He sat across from me, elbows on the island, expression unreadable and distant. “It’s practical. Mutual benefit. Nothing more.”

No smile. No softening of his tone. Just cold realism that left me feeling suddenly exposed and small in the quiet apartment. The contrast with his public warmth stung more than I expected.

“Get some rest, Emma,” he added after a long pause, standing up from his stool. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

The drive home after he escorted me down in near silence felt heavier than the night itself. There was no hug goodbye,just a curt nod before he turned away and headed back toward the elevator.

Back at Sophie’s, I collapsed into bed, mind spinning with the night’s events and the sharp contrast in Lucas’s behavior. The lie was solid now. Everyone believed us. But alone with him, the cold reality had settled in like frost.

My phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand.

It was a text from Ryan: *Need to see you. Something important to say about us. Meet at our old spot by the park fountain? Alone. Please, Em. It’s urgent.*

My stomach dropped. Part of me wanted to delete it and block the number. But curiosity and the lingering ache of betrayal pulled me up anyway. I slipped on jeans and a hoodie over my clothes, telling myself it was just closure, nothing more. The drive to the park was quiet, streets mostly empty under the yellow glow of streetlights. I parked carefully in a spot near the entrance and walked the familiar winding path to the fountain, my heart heavy with memories of late-night talks with Ryan there in better times.

He was waiting on a bench near the edge, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Emma. You came.”He said , a smile on his face.

“What do you want, Ryan?” I stayed standing several feet away, arms crossed tightly over my chest against the chill.

He stood slowly, stepping closer with deliberate steps. “I messed up. Seeing you with Lucas tonight... It hit me hard. Did you run into another man’s arms because I hurt you , Emma? But we were good once. Let me fix it.”

His hand reached for my arm. I stepped back quickly, but he followed, his grip tightening on my wrist with surprising strength.

“Don’t be like this. You’re nothing but pitiful right now, jumping to Lucas to make me jealous. You need me. Stop pretending with him.”

Panic surged through me like ice water as he pulled me closer, his other hand grabbing my waist possessively, trying to force a kiss. His breath was hot and familiar against my face, words slurred with desperation and maybe alcohol.

“Come on, Em. Forget him. You’re mine.”

I struggled hard, shoving at his chest with my free hand, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Let go! Ryan, stop!Please!”I begged in a hoarse voice.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded the path behind us. Lucas’s voice cut through the night like thunder, sharp and commanding.

“Get your filthy hands off her.”