She sighs heavily. “To keep it short and sweet, everyone was bragging about doing something with their significant other this past weekend, and I felt left out, so when it was my turn, I talked about me and my husband. Well, Chad pointed out I wasn’t wearing a ring. I told him we were going through marriage troubles, and that’s when Ellison pulled me to the side. So yeah, he called me out in front of the company. He’s a dick.”

“Sounds like a giant one at that.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “So he’ll be there along with his nimrod friends. Which makes things more difficult, because I’m going to have to navigate all of them. Not that anyone talks to me in the office, but there were rumblings that Chad was pulled into Ellison’s office for calling me out. Either way, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to sniff out the fraud between you and me.”

“Sounds like a weasel thing to do.”

“I agree. So we need to be on our A game.”

“I’m in. Just tell me what I have to do.”

“First of all, we should never be split up. As much as we can handle it at least. If they separate us, we can’t stand as a united front, and that’s what these next eight days are about: being a united front.”

“Got it. I’m stuck to you for eight days. Good thing for you I have excellent hygiene.”

I can practically hear her roll her eyes.

“Second, we need to be affectionate but not overly affectionate. We’re a couple on the rocks, but there’s still love between us, potential for us to reconcile. So let’s keep it to hand-holding and pelvis-to-pelvis hugs. Side hugs are for strangers, and kissing is for couples who are not having issues. We’re looking for a healthy middle.”

“Got it. Hand-holding, no kissing, definitely no public tongue action, and crotch-to-crotch hugs.”

“I said pelvis-to-pelvis.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” I ask.

“Yes, but ‘pelvis’ sounds less vile rolling off the tongue.”

“Don’t hate on ‘crotch,’” I say with a smirk that she doesn’t find amusing. Oh-kay. “What else?”

“We need to figure out what the hell we’re fighting about. What our downfall is. The story we came up with during the therapy session was…a little out there.”

“That’s what happens when you’re flying by the seat of your pants. You never know what might be said.”

“No,” she says sternly. “We had a plan, you veered away from the plan, and then we were stuck with me zipping your dick in a sleeping bag.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, that would have killed at my improv class.”