Who can blame me? Nico is the perfect guy: he's kind, funny, smart . . . he's a talented chef, and he looks like a Greek god.
When he helped me get this job, I was excited that we were actually going to live in the same town again. But then he moved to Chicago, sub-letting me his house, which is awesome for my budget but sad for my body. And my heart.
The fact that Nico's on my mind is the only excuse I have for why I used his name when I needed a pretend boyfriend in order to keep my new job. But now that I've done it, it's no big deal, right? I mean, he's in Chicago, and I'm in Florida. He'll never have to know . . .
Until the unexpected happens, and Nico's back home. Suddenly, I have a lot of explaining to do.
Although I convince Nico to play along, each day it gets harder to make believe something that feels so real. How long can I keep pretending . . . before the truth comes out?
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