Being nervous was probably an understatement. My hands fidgeted, twisting the fabric of my dress, as I stared out at the road ahead. I knew this was important to Jack—monumentally so—and I knew it was even more important that we convinced his parents. This wasn’t just a test of appearances; it was a performance that had to be flawless. It had to look real. It had to feel real. Every glance, every word, every touch had to convey that we were true, that this relationship wasn’t just a flimsy façade.
The whole reason we were doing this fake relationship charade was to convince his parents of something significant: that Jack could manage both a home life and a work life with ease. This wasn’t just about satisfying their curiosity—it was about proving something deeper, something tied to his fa
