Chapter 7: Terms and Conditions
1273 Words
And Maple Hollow was watching.
Caleb noticed the two women by the window at the same time Aria did.
Without breaking eye contact, he shifted slightly closer to her.
“Smile,” he murmured.
She did.
It felt surprisingly natural.
His hand remained around hers not tight, not loose. Just enough to look convincing.
“Walk with me,” he said under his breath.
They stepped outside together.
The late afternoon sun stretched across Main Street, catching dust in golden threads. The bell above the café door chimed behind them.
Aria felt the weight of curious eyes from every direction.
“Well,” she whispered lightly, “I’d say phase one is successful.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Caleb replied, though his tone wasn’t entirely accusing.
“Strategic visibility,” she corrected.
He exhaled slowly.
They stopped near his truck.
Only when they were shielded from the worst of the onlookers did he gently release her hand.
The absence of warmth was immediate.
Business again.
“Alright,” he said. “If we’re doing this, we do it properly.”
Aria folded her arms not defensively, but thoughtfully.
“Terms and conditions?”
He gave her a look.
“Yes.”
She nodded once.
“Go ahead.”
He leaned against the truck, posture steady, expression serious.
“Rule one,” he began. “This is temporary.”
“Agreed.”
“Six months. Or until your permits are approved and construction is visibly underway.”
“That works.”
“Whichever comes first.”
“Fine.”
His jaw flexed slightly before he continued.
“Rule two. No lying about important things.”
She frowned. “We are literally lying.”
“No,” he corrected. “We’re performing. There’s a difference.”
She considered that.
“Clarify.”
“If someone asks when we started seeing each other, we can say recently. If someone asks how serious we are, we say we’re taking it slow. But we don’t invent history. No fake anniversaries. No dramatic backstories.”
“That’s… oddly specific.”
“I don’t like messy lies,” he said simply.
She nodded.
“Fair.”
He continued.
“Rule three. No exclusivity conversations.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we don’t claim we’re engaged. Or moving in together permanently. Or planning futures.”
“Of course not.”
His gaze held hers.
“No pressure.”
She felt that one land deeper than intended.
“Agreed.”
He pushed off the truck slightly.
“Rule four. Separate bedrooms.”
She almost laughed.
“That was assumed.”
“I’m making it clear.”
“Fine.”
“Rule five,” he said carefully, “no real dates.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“No candlelit dinners. No long drives under the stars. No blurred lines.”
“You think that’s necessary?”
“Yes.”
The firmness in his voice surprised her.
“Why?”
“Because that’s how people forget what’s real.”
Silence stretched between them.
Aria studied him.
“You’re protecting yourself.”
“I’m protecting the agreement.”
She stepped a little closer, lowering her voice.
“Rule six,” she said. “No jealousy.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I won’t be jealous.”
“Good. Because I won’t be either.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It’s a boundary.”
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his expression.
He nodded once.
“Fine.”
She tilted her head.
“My turn.”
He crossed his arms.
“I’m listening.”
“Rule one,” she said. “You don’t undermine me in front of the town.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I mean it. No comments about me leaving. No doubt.”
His expression softened slightly.
“You have my word.”
“Rule two. If gossip gets ugly, we address it together.”
“Define ugly.”
“If someone questions my intentions publicly,” she said calmly, “you stand beside me.”
“I will.”
She hesitated before continuing.
“Rule three. If at any point this starts hurting either of us… we end it.”
He held her gaze steadily.
“No arguments.”
“No guilt,” she added.
“Agreed.”
“And rule four,” she said quietly.
He waited.
“No feelings.”
The air shifted.
He didn’t respond immediately.
“Repeat it,” she said.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“No feelings.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
A long pause.
Then...
“No feelings,” he said firmly.
Professional.
Detached.
Exactly how it needed to be.
Aria nodded once.
“Good.”
The wind picked up lightly, brushing a strand of hair across her cheek. Caleb noticed before she did. His hand lifted instinctively... Then stopped midair.
He lowered it slowly.
Boundaries.
They both felt it.
“So,” she said lightly, forcing normalcy back into her tone. “When do we make it official?”
He glanced down the street where Mrs. Whitmore was pretending very badly not to stare.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Town council meeting.”
Her pulse jumped.
“That’s bold.”
“They need to see it.”
She smiled faintly.
“Public debut.”
“You wanted visibility.”
“I did.”
He stepped closer again careful, controlled.
“For the record,” he said quietly, “I don’t do halfway.”
“Neither do I.”
Another beat of silence.
Not romantic. Not yet. Just charged.
“We should arrive together tomorrow,” he said.
“I’ll be ready.”
“And Aria?”
“Yes?”
“If this gets complicated…”
“It won’t.”
His eyes searched hers again.
“You don’t know that.”
She held his gaze without flinching.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I do.”
A lie.
They both knew it.
But neither called it out.
He opened the truck door.
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Sharp?”
“Sharp.”
She turned to leave, then paused.
“Caleb?”
He looked back.
“We’re going to win them over.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“We’ll see.”
She walked toward the inn, aware of every pair of eyes following her.
Behind her, Caleb remained beside his truck a moment longer.
Watching.
Thinking.
Calculating.
And ignoring the quiet, inconvenient truth forming in his chest.
They had just made rules for something neither of them fully understood.
And the first rule... Was already the most fragile.
- Writer
