“I can imagine.” I try to swallow my feelings and play along.

“But we loved him, of course,” she laughs. “I’m guessing he still has that irresistible charm?”

“Yup.” I reply shortly. “Charm for days.”

“I knew you’d never change,” she says to Dash.

I stand there, my heart sinking as they trade stories and numbers, promising to catch up properly soon.

Because she’s right. Some people don’t change. And just because Dash has only had eyes for me for the past couple of days, how is that supposed to mean anything to such a confirmed bachelor?

He said it himself, he doesn’t do serious relationships, and the whole point of hiring me to play his fake girlfriend was to prevent any other woman getting the wrong idea and catching feelings with the charade.

Which is exactly what I went and did.

Dammit.

Lauren and her party finally take their seats, and Dash turns to me. “Ready for the road?” he asks, and I nod, forcing a smile.

“Watch out New York, here we come!”

We make it back to the city in easy time, Dash navigating the late-night traffic as we head back to my place. I’m curled up in the passenger seat, asleep when a passing siren jolts me out of my haze.

I look around at the lights and buildings, yawning. “Wait, we’re already back in Manhattan?”

Dash grins over at me. “I didn’t want to wake you, you’re cute when you snore.”

“I don’t snore,” I protest, smiling, but inside, I feel a tiny bit disappointed I’ve been unconscious for the last few hours of our time together.

“Sure,” he said with an exaggerated wink. “If that’s the official story, I’m on board.”

“Right, the official story…” I pause, about to ask what happens with our whole ‘fake dating’ deal now we’re back from Florida…

… And not-so-fake anything anymore.

I open my mouth to ask, but Dash gets in first. “This is you, right?” he asks. pulling up to a space outside my building

“Yes!” I blurt, sounding way too cheery. “Thanks for the ride! I mean… You know what I mean. I had a great time,” I add.

He grins. “Me too. Come on, I’ll help with your bags.”

We get out, and I lead him into the lobby.

“Welcome back,” the doorman greets me. “I thought you might have decided to go join your aunt in Italy for some of that gelato.”

“Tempting!”

“Your aunt?” Dash repeats with a smirk, after I yank him to the elevators.

“Long story.”

We head up, as the question grows in my mind. Does he want to keep seeing me, I wonder, or was this just some kind of situation-ship—caught up in the undeniable chemistry and fun of the ruse? Does he want to try dating—for real this time?

Or, you know, skip straight to the part where we spend every night making mad, passionate love then eat brunch and stroll hand-in-hand at the farmer’s market on a Sunday morning—