I stuffed a bite in my mouth and looked out at the lake to buy a few seconds. Though Presley and I had texted briefly a couple of times last week, I hadn’t found the right moment to mention the changes between Holden and me. As much as I was dying to have a girlfriend talk about sleeping with the guy I’d crushed on for years, I was also reluctant because she wouldn’t hesitate to tell me I was being reckless.

“Chloe?” she drew out in question, and I could feel her staring at me.

I couldn’t quite stifle a smile. “Yeah, um, it wasn’t completely an act. I mean, it was exaggerated and deliberate. We wanted people to think that—”

“You went home and did him!”

Even though I knew there was no one else on the property today, I glanced around to make sure no one had heard her outburst.

There was caramel on my finger, so I stuck it in my mouth, still grinning.

“Chloe Abrams… Henry… whatever your name is now, spill it!”

I told her about dinner after the courthouse and Holden’s comments about crossing a line and my decision to give in to the attraction.

“Smart,” she said.

“What? Not smart. Dumb. Stupid. Foolish. But if this is what stupid is like, sign me up.”

Presley laughed and took a sip of her latte. She pulled a leg up under her as if settling in. “I’m so happy for you. I don’t even need to ask you how it was, how he is, because you can’t get that smug little grin off your face.”

That made me laugh. “Smug? This is not smug. Smug implies being right, and you know as well as I do that I would’ve been much smarter to keep my pj’s on.”

“From what I know, love doesn’t care about smart or right.”

“This is not a love match, Pres. It’s a business deal between friends. Literally, marriage with benefits.”

“You’re in love with him.” She didn’t pose it as a question.

“I don’t even know what that means. Do I love him? Yes. He’s been my friend for almost thirty years. In love? Doesn’t that take two?”

“Sounds like you have two.”

“It’s just sex. Part of our deal that will go away in a year.”

Presley pierced me with a direct gaze. “Why can’t it be more? Why does it have to end in a year?”