I have three regrets this morning.
1. Wearing heels.
2. Agreeing to come to this will reading with Eli.
3. Not punching Miles the last time I saw him.
The lawyer's office is… beige. Like it's been drained of all joy and filtered through a sepia Instagram filter called "Depressing Chic." Everyone's here. Including Eli's mom, looking regal and lowkey terrifying in navy silk, and Miles, looking like the human version of a traffic violation.
"I feel like I'm in a Knives Out sequel," I whisper to Eli.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
He's wearing a suit that definitely doesn't look fake-boyfriend-y. It looks boyfriend-boyfriend-y. And when he adjusts his tie and gives me that smirky half-smile?
Yeah. I almost forget why we're here.
The lawyer clears his throat and begins reading. It's all boring legal stuff until—
"To my son, Elijah… I leave the house, the bookstore, and the full contents of my estate."
Dead silence.
Miles scoffs. "Of course you do."
The lawyer doesn't flinch. "To my nephew, Miles… I leave my collection of novelty cat socks. And a framed picture of myself with the caption 'Nice try.'"
I snort. Loudly. In front of everyone.
Miles turns purple.
"She was clearly manipulated!" he snaps. "She changed her will after she met her. After this… this barista scammer showed up and started playing house."
Eli stands. "Watch your mouth."
"Oh, come on," Miles sneers. "What did she do, Eli? Bat her eyes and make you forget she's using you?"
Before I can speak, Eli slams a hand on the table.
"She's not using me. She's helping me. She was there when Mom got sick. She's the one who made her laugh again. What have you done, Miles? Besides roll in like a buzzard?"
Dead silence again.
The lawyer sighs. "If you wish to contest the will, you may file the appropriate paperwork."
Miles glares at us. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."
And just like that, he storms out, knocking over a decorative ficus on his way. Classy.
---
After the reading, Eli and I sneak out the back, mostly because I threatened to trip Miles if he tried anything and I meant it.
We end up behind the building in a quiet alleyway where the tension finally breaks.
"I can't believe she actually left you a framed picture with 'Nice try,'" I say, laughing so hard I nearly fall over. "Your mom is my hero."
Eli leans against the wall, grinning. "Told you. Legend."
But then the laughter fades, and something heavier settles in the space between us.
"That thing you said in there…" I murmur. "About me helping you."
His voice softens. "It wasn't a line."
I know. I know. I felt it in my gut when he said it.
And here we are again—standing too close, hearts doing gymnastics, and every logical part of me screaming don't kiss him.
So naturally, he kisses me.
And it's not like the first kiss, full of panic and coffee breath and confusion.
This one's slow. Sure. Warm.
His hand finds my waist. Mine fists in his jacket. And for a moment, nothing else exists but lips, heat, and the dizzying fact that I don't want this to be fake anymore.
But of course, because the universe is rude—
"Eli?!"
We freeze.
It's his mom.
We jump apart like teenagers caught behind the gym.
"Oh my god," I whisper. "This is a soap opera now. We're literally in a scene titled The Secret Kiss Behind the Legal Office."
He looks at me with wide eyes. "Do I have lipstick on my face?"
"Only emotionally."
She rounds the corner. "There you two are! Miles is causing a scene in the lobby."
"Of course he is," Eli says, clearing his throat and trying to fix his hair.
She pauses, eyes flicking between us. One eyebrow rises.
"I see," she says slowly. "Well. Come on. We've got a bookstore to protect."
And just like that, she turns and walks off like she didn't just totally catch us making out next to a dumpster.
---
Later that night, Eli drives me home. Neither of us speaks until he pulls up to the curb.
"I meant what I said," he says, voice low.
"Which part?"
"That it doesn't feel fake anymore."
My chest does this little twisty dance that makes me want to scream into a throw pillow.
"Yeah," I whisper. "Me too."
But I don't get out yet.
I just sit there. In the quiet. Heart pounding.
Then I finally say it.
"So… what now?"
Eli leans closer.
"We win."
And I nod.
But inside, I'm thinking—
If this is fake, why does it feel like we already lost something?