Just for Show

by Jae

  Bridget leaned forward, her expression attentive, but completely neutral. “How so?”

  “Getting engaged to Lana gave me a new perspective on life. I mean, I have always valued our relationship, but now that I put a ring on her finger…” She pulled Lana’s hand onto the table and lightly trailed her fingertip along the piece of metal that was warm from Lana’s body heat. “I’ve become even more aware of how little things can make or break a relationship. Things like turning off your phone every now and then or not working late all the time. I think I didn’t emphasize that enough in the book.”

  “Interesting that you would say that.” Bridget pulled out a leather-bound planner and opened it to a page full of notes. “Because I thought the same when I read those chapters. So would you be willing to work with one of our editors to revise them?”

  “Of course,” Claire said. “I’d love to get some constructive criticism.”

  The waiter appeared with their food. Bridget and Lana had ordered salads, and apparently, Claire had too.

  Bridget pierced a bit of lettuce with her fork, but instead of eating it, she looked back and forth between them. “So, when’s the big day?”

  Big day? Was she talking about the publication date? Claire’s brain couldn’t keep up.

  “She means for the wedding, honey.” Lana laughed. “Isn’t she adorable? She’s such a wonderful psychologist, but sometimes she’s got her head in the clouds.” She gave Claire a loving smile.

  “Oh. Yeah, the wedding date. Of course,” Claire said. “Um, actually, we were talking about a June wedding.”

  “It’s already June 29. Does that mean you’re getting married tomorrow?”

  “Um, no. I meant June next year.” If she was lucky, the book would be out before anyone would start to expect photos of the happy brides.

  “You see,” Lana said, “my sister, Gabby, she’s deployed overseas, and my mother would never forgive me if I got married without her, so we’ll have to wait until she returns.”

  Claire decided then and there to pay Lana more than the agreed-upon fifty thousand for saving the day not once, but twice.

  “Oh, really?” Bridget said. “Which branch is she in?”

  “She’s a medic in the Marines.”

  Lana’s answer came so smoothly that Claire wondered whether one of her stepsiblings might really be a marine.

  Bridget nodded respectfully. “Please thank her for her service.”

  In between bites of salad, she started asking questions: How much time would Claire be able to dedicate to promoting the book? What kind of contacts did she have to community centers, women’s non-profits, or the press in the LA area? Was she willing to write articles for lifestyle and health magazines to get her name out there?

  She seemed to like Claire’s replies because she smiled as she scribbled down notes. Finally, she glanced from Lana to Claire and asked, “Would Lana be able to accompany you to some of the promo events?”

  Claire wasn’t hungry at all, but she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth anyway so she could think about her answer while she chewed. “She’ll be there as often as she can.” Hopefully, that was noncommittal enough while still making Bridget think she had her fiancée’s full support.

  Bridget put down her fork. “So, what do you do for a living, Lana?”

  Damn. They should have talked about this beforehand. Should they stick to the lawyer story? But the last time Claire had lied about it, Lana had taken it to mean her job as a barista wasn’t good enough.

  Lana glanced at her, clearly not knowing what to say either. “Um, I’m a—”

  “Barista,” Claire said before Lana would be forced to lie.

  Lana stared at her. Then a pleased smile curved her full lips.

  Claire smiled back and held her head up high. If Lana really were her fiancée, that was what she would do—be proud of her, instead of trying to hide a part of her, be it her scars or her job. It was one of the things that Lana had taught her.

  “Oh, that’s great.” Bridget sounded sincere. “We’ll see what our PR department can do with that. I mean, coffee and books are a great combination, and we aren’t targeting only women with degrees, so…” She scribbled down more notes.

  What do you know? Claire grinned to herself. Chapter three was right. Honesty really pays off. At least for the moment. She tried not to worry about what would happen down the road, when she and Lana officially broke up. By then, she’d hopefully have a publishing contract, and Wishing Tree wouldn’t be able to back out.

  Finally, when the salads were gone and all questions were answered, Bridget closed her planner. “I don’t want to make any promises I might not be able to keep, but things look really good. Of course, it’s not just my decision. I still have to sell the project to the rest of the team, and our senior editor might want to weigh in on the decision too. I’ll present the concept to the team during our meeting on Monday, and if all goes well, you can expect a publishing contract in your in-box before the end of next week.”

  Claire’s beaming grin felt as if it would split her face. “That would be beyond great. Thank you.”

  Later, she barely knew what had been said after that, but she remembered with crystal clarity what happened once Bridget had left and they were outside, alone.

  “You did it!” Lana wrapped her arms around her and twirled Claire around, making her squeal as the world around her became a blur.

  “We did it.” She felt a bit dizzy, but she suspected it had more to do with being so close to Lana than with being twirled around. Still she couldn’t bring herself to let go, even once Lana had put her down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” With each word, she planted a big kiss on Lana’s cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth.

  Then both stopped laughing and stared at each other, arms still wrapped around the other.

  “Uh, come on.” Claire stepped back but allowed herself to keep hold of one of Lana’s hands, pulling her toward their hotel, which was only a few blocks away. “Let’s go get changed. I’m taking you out to celebrate.”

  “You don’t have to. We just had lunch, and you’re already paying me.”

  “You did so much more than what was required in the contract.” She squeezed Lana’s hand and gazed into her eyes. “Seriously, Lana. I admit that at first I wasn’t too sure you were the right person for this role, but now I know I couldn’t have done this with anyone but you. Let me say thank you in style.”

  Lana’s eyes looked a little damp, as if Claire’s gratefulness had touched her, but she was beaming. “Okay. What did you have in mind? Not roller-skating beneath the High Line, I take it?”

  Considering how that outing had ended, a repeat wouldn’t be a good idea. “Uh, no. Think high heels, not roller skates.”

  “I don’t wear high heels,” Lana said.

  “I know. You can wear whatever you want.”

  “So where are you taking me?”

  Claire had no idea. She hadn’t thought of anything beyond this meeting with Bridget Huge. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Chapter 16

  In more casual clothes and more comfortable shoes, they strolled down Sixth Avenue. Here, among the anonymous crowd of New Yorkers, there was no reason to hold hands and pretend to be a couple, and Lana missed Claire’s hand in hers as much as she missed the fake engagement ring on her finger.

  Was this what some of her colleagues went through after immersing themselves into a role for months? But she’d been Claire’s pretend fiancée for only eight weeks, even though it felt longer somehow.

  “So, where do you want to go?” Claire asked. “You pick.”

  Lana appreciated Claire, the control freak, leaving the choice up to her. She wasn’t hungry yet, so she tried to think of something else they could do for an hour—something less romantic than a stroll along the
High Line. A repeat of last night’s almost kiss was definitely out, so an activity that screamed “two friends playing tourists” was in order.

  She racked her brain, but all she could think of were activities for couples: rowing a boat underneath Central Park’s Bow Bridge, a carriage ride, or a sunset sail to the Statue of Liberty.

  A sight to their left helped her out. “How about the Empire State Building?” She pointed at the skyscraper. That should be safe. There was nothing romantic about the long lines they would have to brave to make it to the top. “Would you like to go up to the observation deck?”

  “Yes!” Claire gave an uncharacteristic little hop that made Lana chuckle.

  She loved seeing the usually controlled woman so enthusiastic and carefree.

  Instead of the unromantic waiting in line Lana had imagined, Claire pulled out her phone and got them VIP tickets that allowed them to skip to the front of the lines. Soon, they were riding the elevator up to the eighty-sixth floor.

  “I feel like I’m in Love Affair,” Claire said.

  Lana stared at her. “Uh, excuse me?”

  “The 1939 movie, you know? Two potential lovers agree to meet at the Empire State Building six months after meeting on a luxury liner. The ending of Sleepless in Seattle was inspired by that movie.”

  “Oh.” So much for the Empire State Building not being romantic. Lana nearly said they should watch both movies when they got back home, but Claire’s house wouldn’t be her home for much longer. Soon, she’d be back in her tiny studio apartment, and movie nights with Claire would be a thing of the past.

  The thought gave her a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and no matter how much she pretended it was from the fast-moving elevator, she knew it wasn’t.

  Finally, the elevator doors opened, and they stepped out onto the observation deck that wrapped around the building’s spire.

  “Wow.” Lana turned in a circle and looked across the expanse of high-rise buildings below them.

  “Haven’t you been up here before?” Claire asked.

  Lana shook her head. “I didn’t do the tourist thing when I lived here.”

  “Then I’m glad we came.”

  “Me too,” Lana said as she watched Claire make her way to the edge of the deck.

  The wind whipped around her, playing with her hair that she’d not put up into a chignon for once. Her cheeks turned rosy, either from the wind or from excitement—or both.

  “Look at that.” Claire pointed at something.

  “I am looking.” Lana stepped closer and reluctantly looked away from Claire to gaze in the direction she was pointing. Past the One World Trade Center, they could glimpse the Statue of Liberty in the distance.

  They walked around the observation deck, pointing out the nicest views to each other and snapping photos on their phones.

  Finally, despite the humid June afternoon, the wind and the crowd on the observation deck became too much, and they took the elevator back down.

  They strolled in the direction of their hotel, and again Lana had to stop herself from taking Claire’s hand. She peeked over at her, wondering if she was having similar problems, but Claire’s cheerful smile didn’t give anything away.

  They ended up having an early dinner at their hotel’s restaurant. Lana decided that fate had conspired against her attempts to keep the atmosphere on their last evening in New York strictly platonic. A flower stood on their secluded corner table for two; the lights were low, and the waiter brought them two spoons so they could share the dessert Lana had ordered after the filet mignon.

  Claire licked a bit of pistachio mousse off her bottom lip, and the sight definitely didn’t inspire any platonic thoughts. “Ooh! This is good.”

  As she tried to cut off a sliver of the chocolate cake with the side of her spoon, Lana playfully pulled the plate to her side of the table. “Are you sure you want any?” She tapped her wristwatch. “It’s after six.”

  Claire reached across the table. Their fingers brushed as she pulled the plate toward her. “I learned that some things are worth breaking the rules for.”

  She was talking about dessert; Lana knew that. Not about the no-real-involvement clause of their contract. But there still seemed to be an intimate undertone to her words.

  They finished the mousse-topped cake, playfully fighting over every bite. Lana considered fighting over the check too, but Claire immediately snatched up the leather folder and slid her credit card inside. “My treat,” she said as if guessing Lana’s thoughts.

  “Then thank you for a wonderful dinner.”

  Once the waiter had returned Claire’s credit card, they made their way to the elevator.

  Claire’s finger hovered over the button for their floor. Was she as loath to end their evening as Lana, or did the thought of returning to their room make her a bit nervous too?

  “How about a glass of champagne on the rooftop bar?” Claire pointed upward. “I hear they have a great view.”

  Lana grinned. “Carbs and alcohol after six? Wow.”

  “I’ll make a one-time exception tonight. So?” Claire moved her finger back and forth between the button with the number eleven and the one with the number twenty-two.

  Instead of answering, Lana put her finger over Claire’s and pressed it on the twenty-two.

  The elevator carried them up to the rooftop bar. Other hotel guests had apparently had the same idea, so the purple leather chairs at the bar were all occupied, but they claimed the last open table next to the chest-high glass railing.

  The view was indeed stunning, with the Empire State Building directly in their line of sight and Midtown below them.

  Claire ordered champagne.

  Lana raised her glass and looked across the rim at Claire, who still hadn’t put up her hair and looked beautiful with the wind in her hair and her cheeks flushed, either from the day’s excitement or the sun she’d gotten earlier. “To you and The Art of Lasting Relationships.” After a second, she couldn’t help adding with a grin, “Especially the sex-on-the-kitchen-table chapter.”

  Claire rolled her eyes but laughed. “To our successful trip—and the actress who turned out to be the perfect person for this role.”

  Still looking into each other’s eyes, they clinked their glasses together.

  As they sipped champagne, the sun sank lower, painting the horizon in golden and orange hues. They watched as lights flickered on all over the city.

  At the bar, couples huddled together as the temperature cooled up on the twenty-second floor.

  “So,” Lana leaned forward, “how does it feel? Having the publishing contract finally within reach.”

  Claire studied the bubbles in her glass before glancing up at Lana. “Surreal. I can’t believe it’s finally over. Well, almost over. The contract isn’t in my in-box yet.”

  “It will be.” There wasn’t a doubt in Lana’s mind. Claire deserved this contract, even though she’d lied to get it.

  “From your lips to God’s ear,” Claire said, and her gaze seemed to linger on Lana’s lips for a few seconds.

  Lana’s mouth went dry. She emptied her glass with one big gulp.

  “What will you do once this is over?” Claire asked.

  “Go back to wreaking havoc on my own kitchen, if you can call a hot plate and a mini fridge a kitchen,” Lana said.

  Claire chuckled. “I bet you’ll miss my gas range.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “And other than that?” Claire asked.

  Lana held her breath. Was Claire asking her if she’d miss her too? She would, Lana admitted to herself. God, I’d better stop at one glass. Champagne apparently made her sentimental. She put on a brave smile. “Yeah, well, your cleaning marathons are a pain in the ass, but yeah, maybe I’ll miss you a little too.”

  Claire stared at her, then gulped do
wn the rest of her champagne. “Uh, I meant, what will you do other than wreaking havoc on your own kitchen…job-wise.”

  “Oh.” Lana ducked her head and hoped the low light on the rooftop hid her blush. “I don’t know yet,” she mumbled, her head still down and her cheeks burning. “Probably what I did before. Keep putting steamed-milk hearts on lattes and go to auditions.”

  A gentle squeeze to her hand made her look up and into Claire’s soft gray eyes.

  “Now that you mention it, it’s entirely possible that I’ll miss you too,” Claire said. “Just a tiny bit. The house will seem so empty without your stuff strewn across every available surface.” She chuckled, but her gaze revealed that she wasn’t joking. She would miss Lana too.

  Lana couldn’t look away, even though her inner alarm bells shrieked at her. This entire evening was heading into dangerous territory, blurring the lines between a thank-you dinner and a real date.

  Claire abruptly got up as if she had been thinking the same. “I’m getting us a cocktail. What do you want?”

  Lana opened the cocktail menu on the table and searched for a drink that didn’t sound too potent. The way Claire looked tonight and the romantic mood on the rooftop were already intoxicating enough. “I don’t know. I don’t have cocktails very often.” She slid the menu over to Claire. “What do you think would be good?”

  “How about a Manhattan Fling?” Claire suggested.

  Don’t. Don’t do it. But Lana couldn’t help herself. Teasing Claire was like an irresistible drug. She tilted her head to the side and grinned up at Claire. “Does that mean you want us to ignore the no-sex clause for tonight?”

  “What? I… You…”

  Lana laughed. “I accept the offer…of the drink, I mean.”

  “I think I’d better order you a Cold Shower,” Claire muttered. She whirled around and rushed to the bar as if she were dying of thirst.

  Lana’s laughter trailed off. What would she have said if Claire had answered that teasing question with a yes? She let out a snort. Claire would never do that…would she? She might be on the rebound, but she wasn’t the type for a fling.