The D-day had come, and Nathan was fidgeting. He chanted in his head, trying to remember the real reason for being here.
Pretend to love Rosie.
How could he pretend to love her?
He glanced at her. How could he, when she was sitting across from him at the long, polished table? His fingers idly ran along the silverware as he stared at her, allowing the polite conversation around him to engulf him.
Her posture was perfect, her expression blank and unreadable. She was on her phone, just as she had been on the way here. It felt like she was hiding behind her tablet under the guise of work, tapping the screen and only contributing to the conversation when necessary. She tapped so much that Nathan concluded she was indeed busy and that this was a waste of her time.
The bridge between them ha
