Might give me a chance to work on my improv skills, which I’ve been dying to do given the classes I’ve been taking. Bringing my knowledge into a real-world setting, really gets the adrenaline going.

Seems like a no-brainer to me.

Wilder: Yeah, I’m in. Send me the deets.

Mika: Awesome. Here’s her contact info. Meeting is tomorrow morning at nine. She’s humiliated that she even had to ask. Make sure you text her.

Wilder: Got it.

Scottie’s contact information comes up, and I click on it. The thumbnail picture of her shows off a beautiful girl with long, light brown hair. From what I can see, she has one of those noses that has the smallest of swoops at the end. The lightest splattering of freckles on her cheeks. And one single dimple on the right side of her face. She’s hot. Why the hell does she need a fake husband?

My phone buzzes with another text from Mika, startling me from staring at her picture.

Mika: You’re probably doing intel on her already, noticing how hot she is, but she’s drinking right now, so you might not want to text her at the moment. She’s questioning her decisions. Shoot for later.

Wilder: Understood.

Mika: Have fun.

I set my phone down and stare at the burning fireplace image on my TV that I set every night while Led Zeppelin plays in the background.

Pretend husband.

Marriage counseling.

With a girl named Scottie.

I think this is something I can run with.

Smiling to myself, I pick up my notepad and pen that I always keep close by, I tug on my lip ring with my teeth, and I start taking notes on how I can play this character.

You know, this might be the fun I need in my life right now.

“Dude, why are you late?” I ask Derek as he comes striding up to me, still tying his tie.

“Sorry, man, Denise was a mess this morning.” He takes a seat at the bistro table I snagged us that is right next to the window and then picks up the coffee I ordered him. “Thanks. I really need this.”

“What’s going on with Denise?” I ask my best friend and accountant.

“She booked a wedding this weekend, a big one. It’s for an influencer named Brie Copperhead, something like that. All I know is she’s freaking out, and I spent last night and this morning trying to calm her down. Didn’t help that last night she came home drunk from the bar. She was saying some crazy shit.”

I bite into the coffee cake I gleefully purchased this morning. It’s my treat for the week. I tend to eat as healthy as I can, but every week, I treat myself once for every meal. Breakfast this week is this coffee cake.