Chapter 1

All to Well

The bar was bustling this close to happy hour and I was constantly being banged into by people trying to make their way to the bathroom. I was standing against the far wall with my vodka red bull I had spent way too much on and a friend that was bound to come up with a fake excuse not to show up tonight.

As if Sarah could hear me a text made my phone vibrate and I take it out of my pocket. There are the screen is the inevitable.

Sarah: Honey I am so sorry, I totally forgot that Nate and I had already made plans to meet up with his sister and her husband for dinner. You have a good time though and let me know if you meet anyone interesting.

She proceeded the message with a barrage of dirty emojis. All I can do is roll my eyes up to the ceiling. I was pretty sure this was her plan all along. But she also knows how bad I am at meeting people so I don’t really understand her end goal. Just then the music changes and something a little more upbeat and jazzy starts playing.

One of the main reasons I like this bar so much is for the live music. They do a good job of weaving in new and up and coming artists with playing the oldies. Its fun to watch people play the instruments they are passionate about and there aren’t many places you can just go and watch someone play the trumpet.

When I look up towards the stage the man standing at the piano catches my eye. They are preforming in a trio I know I saw at least three people on the stage. This man though he had me raptures and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was hunched over the keyboard his long slender fingers dancing across the keys. He was standing instead of sitting which made him have to hunch over further as he seemed to be a very tall man. His dark hair was even darker with sweat and hung around his face as he played.

I looked away then. I couldn’t be thinking about other men. Especially after everything Asher just put me through. I let out a low groan and take two healthy gulps of my drink before remembering it was expensive and that I should be savoring it. I had found my now ex boyfriend Asher on top of another women in our bed. I had gotten off work early to surprise him and found her handcuffed to our headboard getting railed by my boyfriend.

I think the most annoying thing about that was when I had brought up things like bondage play he had always made me feel so insecure about it. I sighed and took another sip before letting my eyes drift back over to the man at the piano. They seemed to be wrapping up the song and when they had concluded and the room burst into applause the man that I assumed to be the front man that was holding the trumpet announced that they would be taking a short break. Something about that made my heart sink a bit. I wanted to see more of this mysterious piano man and I wanted to hear him play more. I sagged deeper into the wall and watched as the three men stood on the stage and chatted before they all broke off heading in different directions.

In the blink of an eye he was out of my sight and I was ready to be done with this place. I looked down into the bottom of my glass watching as the two ice cubes fought for dominance in the cup as they melted. There wasn’t much left except maybe a small sip and even that made her heart squeeze. Suddenly for no reason whats so ever she felt like crying.

I saw the man walk toward me but I didn’t look up from my drink. He was wearing a nice pair of brown loafers and soft gray wool slacks. When he stopped in front of her standing so close that if she had reached her hand out she could have touched him she looked up into a pair of piercing green eyes.

Holy Fucking Shit. The piano man was standing in front of her. He was standing so close that she could smell peppermint and musk rolling off him and it made her want to step even closer. “Hey,” he said tilting his head to one side and giving her a lopsided smile that made her stomach do a flip. “Hey yourself.” She said wrenching her eyes away from his. My mouth was dry, I needed to take a sip of my drink but every single time I tried to find my straw it was not where it was supposed to be. He chuckles low in his chest and the sound sends a shiver down my spine as I finally take a sip of my drink.

“I saw you watching me.” He says with the confidence of a man that gets any women he wants.

“Oh really? Are you sure about that? You might need to get your ego checked out if you think I was just watching you. There were three other men on the stage with you.” I say proud of myself for remembering there were others on the stage but now I was seriously second guessing myself on whether they were all men.

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth worrying it as I continue to avoid his striking eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks at me as if he has caught me in a lie.

“Okay if you were paying so much attention to the other people on the stage tell me what instruments were they playing?” As he asks this a grin spreads over his stupid face and suddenly he looks like the cat that just caught the canary.

I place the hand not holding my drink on my hip “One of them was playing a trumpet and one of them was playing a tuba.” I say crossing my fingers that I got something right. To be honest I didn’t know very many jazz instruments and hoped what semblance of knowledge I got from the three months I was in orchestra help.

He squints at me the smile slipping just a little when I actually have an answer for him.

“You are right about the trumpet but Dave does not play the Tuba and if I told him you said that he might even get offended.” I can feel my cheeks heating. What an asshole he is trying to get a rise out of me.

“Sorry, don’t mean to offend I honestly don’t come out to jazz clubs a lot.” I say looking away again and leaning back against the wall again. This time he laughs, and the sound is warm and rich and makes me think of apple pie. “touche, well how about this, I was watching you.” He says unfazed by what he just admitted too and it makes me whip back to look at him.

“What do you mean you were watching me?” I ask indignantly. I obviously know how he could have been watching me but I more so mean why. Why would someone as good looking as him with those piercing green eyes and the thick dark hair. His jaw line could probably cut a bitch and he is so tall he makes me feel short and I am 5 feet 6 inches. He is wearing glasses now and I want to ask if he was wearing them on stage or if he put them on after but the words get lost on my tongue.

“I saw you the moment you walked in.” He says as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and uncrosses his arms from his chest and shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You are beautiful and you are so radiant I couldn’t possibly not notice you.” He says taking another little step closer. This makes me stand up taller as we are standing face to face at the back of a bar.

“Okay fine! I admit it I was starring at you.” I say before I can stop myself. “You were looking so dark academia hot professor that I couldn’t help myself.” I say my face heating from the words. He smiles and my knees suddenly feel like jelly.

Chapter 2

It took all of my self-control not to let my smile slip.

The blonde did not look happy about what she had just found Isaac doing. Her body language screamed I caught my man cheating—even though she was clearly here with Asher, his arm still wrapped possessively around her. As she stepped closer, the unmistakable engagement ring on her finger caught the light.

Subconsciously, I leaned back into Isaac and felt his arms tighten around me as we pretended to be a couple. Clearly, Isaac and I were on the same page about not speaking first. The uncomfortable silence stretched as we waited to see who would break.

To my surprise, Asher spoke first.

“Lila. Fancy seeing you here.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, and his gaze dropped pointedly to where Isaac’s hands rested around my waist.

“Asher,” I said, giving him my best glare.

The blonde finally spoke up. “You two know each other?” she asked in a dumb, high-pitched voice that made me want to cringe.

“Wow, Asher,” I said sweetly. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention the last woman you ruined. We were only together for five years—guess I wasn’t important enough to mention to your fiancée.”

I stuck out my hand. “I’m Lila. Asher’s ex. And Isaac’s current girlfriend.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, nearly bulging out of her face as she glanced between me and Isaac. Her cheeks turned red, and I was fairly certain steam would come out of her ears if that were possible.

“Camille,” Isaac supplied, since it was obvious she couldn’t form words.

I lowered my hand and turned back to him. “Are you ready to head out? I’m famished.”

I linked my arm through his and took a step toward the door before glancing back. “It was so great seeing you, Asher. And it was so nice meeting you, Catherine.”

Then I tugged Isaac with me until we were outside the bar.

I led him straight into the nearest alley and promptly collapsed against the brick wall. The cold air stung my flushed cheeks, and the wind bit through my jacket.

“Well,” Isaac said somewhere nearby, “that was something.”

When I opened my eyes, he was sitting on a milk crate, elbows on his thighs, hands raking through his hair.

“I am so sorry,” I said quietly, tears pricking my eyes.

His head snapped up, and he was on his feet in an instant. “This was not your fault,” he said firmly, cupping my face.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” I said. “Is it irony that our exes are dating, or just terrible luck?”

A half-hearted smile crossed his face, and my heart did a little flip. He really was handsome in that boyish, bookish way—hot-teacher vibes in the flesh.

“I had no idea he was your ex,” he said softly. “If I’d known, I never would have asked you.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine. His warmth seeped into me, sending a shiver down my spine. I wanted to kiss him again—wanted more than a kiss—but after seeing our exes, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

Still, I couldn’t help myself. My hands slid up to the back of his neck, fingers brushing through the soft hair at his nape.

“Well,” I said lightly, “I could really use a stiff drink and some food. I live nearby, if you want to come back to mine and drown our sorrows.”

He smiled and kissed my forehead before stepping back and gesturing for me to lead the way.

The walk to my apartment was quiet, our arms brushing but never fully touching. We climbed the four flights of stairs to my small one-bedroom, and when I flipped on the light, Isaac took it all in.

My style was eclectic—everything thrifted, nothing matching—but it worked. Thick knit blankets draped over chairs, a faded pink high-back suede chair weathered by sunlight, and an oval coffee table etched with what looked like ancient ruins. Plants hung from the ceiling and climbed the red brick walls, filling the space with life.

“Do you mind taking your shoes off?” I asked, blushing slightly.

“Of course,” he said, smiling as he followed me inside.

“Tea?” I asked from the kitchenette while filling the kettle.

“Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

He sank into a large round chair piled with soft pillows. A basket nearby held another plush blanket, which he pulled over his legs without thinking. He leaned back, eyes drifting shut for just a moment—

—and then something jumped into his lap.

When he opened his eyes, a small black cat with bright yellow eyes was staring straight at him. Isaac froze, then slowly reached out to scratch her head. She purred instantly, curling deeper into his lap.

When I returned with the tea, I stopped dead.

“She hates everyone,” I said, breathless.

Too late, Isaac realized he was sitting in her chair. I set the tea down, grabbed another blanket, and settled into a smaller chair instead.

For a while, we just sipped in silence.

“So,” Isaac said finally, “that was weird. Want to tell me what you were doing with that douche canoe?”

I stared at him incredulously, then sighed.

“We’ve been together since high school. Six years. He was my first everything. I really thought we’d get married.” My voice broke. “But now I know what I was.”

I looked up at him, tears spilling over. “I was his practice run. His placeholder. The girl who did all the work—only for him to propose to a blonde model six months after we broke up.”

I sniffed and glanced back at him. “What about you? How’d you end up with the Wicked Witch of the West disguised as Glinda?”

Isaac sighed and leaned back.

“Honestly? It was… a dumpster fire,” he said. “Camille and I went to college together. She was very vocal about her interest, even though we barely knew each other. For a long time, it didn’t matter—I was still dating my girlfriend back home.”

He paused, taking a sip of tea. “When we broke up, I was depressed and lonely. Camille doubled down. One night, we got really drunk… and I felt so bad for not remembering our first date or even our first time that I accidentally dated her for two more months.”

I burst into silent sobs.

“Lila,” Isaac said urgently, dropping to his knees in front of me. He wiped my tears away, panic etched into his face. “That’s terrible.”

He pulled back slightly, voice shaking. “I know I shouldn’t have pursued her. I feel awful for getting her hopes up.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

“What happened with Camille was not your fault,” I said fiercely. “She manipulated you. She used your heartbreak to force intimacy. The fact that you don’t remember is scary.”

I hugged him tighter, pressing my face to his chest. When I pulled back, I realized I was sitting in his lap.

His warmth, his scent—snickerdoodles and something clean—wrapped around me. His blush crept up his neck.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, sniffling as I moved back to my chair.

“Don’t be,” he said softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Tears slid down his face, and he wiped them away clumsily, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glowing city.

“Isaac,” I said gently. “Look at me.”

He did.

“I know we just met,” I said, “but I have a good feeling about you.”

I smiled and tilted my head. “Also, my cat hates everyone. Including me. And she sat on your lap.”

That did it.

A grin spread across his face. “Fluffalicious hates everyone?”

I burst out laughing.

Chapter 3

When Lila woke up in her bed the next morning, the sun was supposed to be streaming through her window, leaving her warm and rejuvenated.

Just kidding.

It was raining, freezing cold, and she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her head throbbed from the alcohol, and she groaned as she tried to sit up. That was when she realized there was someone else in bed with her.

She closed her eyes, biting back a groan, and carefully tried to inch away. Before she could get far, a firm hand slid across her stomach and pulled her back into a warm, solid chest. She was so comfortable, so content, that she briefly considered going back to sleep—until her bladder reminded her it was on the verge of exploding.

As the fog of sleep finally cleared, she remembered what had happened the night before.

Isaac.

“Isaac,” she whispered. “I’ll come back, but I have to pee.”

He let out a low groan but withdrew his hand, allowing her to escape the bed. At least she was dressed in pajamas and not scantily clad—or, God forbid, naked. She tiptoed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, slumping against it for a moment.

From there, she could see herself in the mirror above the sink. She pushed off the door and stepped closer. Her hair was a mess, and mascara streaked down her cheeks. She sighed before using the bathroom. When she finished, she washed her face and tried to tame her curls as best she could.

When she returned to the bedroom, Isaac was sitting propped against her headboard, shirtless, his hair mussed with sleep. He looked up as she entered, and the moment their eyes met, she could tell something was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, stepping forward—then stopping short.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you this morning,” he said, his words wobbling.

Sweet summer child.

She crossed the rest of the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “It was a sleep response. Don’t worry. You let go immediately, and at no point did I feel unsafe,” she said calmly, but firmly, making sure he didn’t misconstrue her words.

It took him a moment to let that sink in. When he finally looked up, that boyish smile returned, and she knew his concerns were settled.

“Actually,” she added, taking a dramatic breath, “I believe I said I’d be back. So… big spoon or little spoon?”

Later, when they were lying face to face, Isaac asked, “How was your relationship with your parents?”

He twirled a small curl around his finger as he spoke.

“Wow,” she said, buying herself time. “Really jumping in with the big guns. No parachute.”

She hated talking about her family, and after the trauma-bonding experience of the night before, she didn’t want to overload him with personal information if this went nowhere.

“I mean,” Isaac said gently, “I know everyone’s home life is different. If that’s not something you want to talk about, that’s okay. I just want to know more about you. Tell me whatever you wish.”

The warmth spread through her chest—not just at his words, but at how he took her deflection and turned it into something kind.

Very charming.

“How do you do that?” she whispered.

“Do what?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

“How do you make me feel so much?” she asked softly.

She realized how silly it sounded only after replaying it in her head a dozen times. “I’m sor—” she started, but Isaac cut her off.

“You make me feel the same way,” he said, his gaze intense. “From the first moment I saw you watching me from the crowd, I knew I needed to know you.”

She knocked her head back lightly. If she was honest, that made perfect sense—it had been the same for her.

“When I watched you play,” she said, letting her hand cross the imaginary line between them to take his, “your fingers danced over the keys. I was practically hypnotized.”

She laced their fingers together.

God, this girl is incredible, he thought. He wanted to kiss her again, but worried it might be too soon. And then there was Camille—absolutely unhinged—and the fact that she could hurt Lila. Still, with her ex now entangled with his, maybe their problems would cancel each other out.

“So,” Lila said, closing her eyes, “how do we move forward with this fake dating?”

He toyed with her fingers. “I was actually thinking about that. What if we up the ante just a bit?”

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming a small “o.” “Up the ante… how?”

“Lila Green,” he said carefully, holding her hand tighter, “I know we just met, but… will you pretend to marry me?”

Even though she’d brought up marriage herself, the question made his stomach flip. But somehow, with her, it didn’t sound terrible. It sounded… good.

His eyes were bright and earnest, like he’d truly proposed.

“Yes,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

He released her hand to cup her face, his rough palms warm against her skin. When she opened her eyes, the sparkle she’d seen moments before had vanished—replaced by certainty. She surged forward and kissed him, soft and brief.

“I felt the moment warranted a kiss,” she said with a giggle. “You did just ask me to marry you.”

Isaac grinned. “That doesn’t sound like a no.”

He pulled her close and kissed her properly this time. God, he tasted too good. She was seconds away from doing something wildly inappropriate when a loud banging echoed through the apartment.

“Lila!”

She shoved Isaac back, holding up a hand to stop him from pulling her in again.

“It’s Asher,” she whispered. “My ex.”

Isaac, now very aware he was wearing only boxer briefs and her bedsheets, sighed. “Should I let him in?”

The nausea hit immediately. She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Isaac slid out of bed, tugged on his jeans, and walked toward the door. She trusted him—somehow—to handle this.

Asher’s shouting carried through the door. Accusations. Insults. Camille’s lies.

Before she realized it, Lila was at the door, slamming it open.

“First of all, fuck you,” she snapped at Isaac before turning back. “He has no right to ruin our happiness.”

She stepped into the hallway.

Asher stood there casually, but straightened when he saw her. When he reached for her, she slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” he said.

“Stop,” she said, exhausted. “Don’t care about me. Don’t think about me—or my fiancé. You dumped me after six years, got engaged immediately after, and now you’re trying to take this from me too. Go away. And don’t come back.”

She turned to leave, then added, “If you need someone to care about, go care about your fiancée.”

Back inside, she locked the door and turned to find Isaac waiting. He swept her into his arms. His hug felt like sunshine and warm coffee.

She had just walked away from six years—for someone she’d known minutes.

Crazy. Exhilarating.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Isaac said softly, “but I do have a spare room at my place if you’re worried about Asher.”

She smiled up at him. “That actually sounds amazing. Let me grab a few things.”