It is practical, she said. Close to the office, secure. It did not feel practical to me. It felt like a glass box in the sky. She slid a thick binder across the counter toward me. “Read this tonight,” she said. “Memorize as much as you can.” Quote. I opened it and blinked. The first page was labeled public behavior guidelines. There were bullet points on everything.
How to stand beside her at events, where to put my hand for photos, what to say if someone asked how we met. There was even a note about how to hold a wine glass. This is intense, I said. It has to be, she replied. My brother is waiting for any crack he can find. We cannot give him one. I flipped to the next section.
History. Our fake story was laid out in simple lines. We met at a charity event in Aspen 6 months ago. We hit it off instantly. We kept things quiet because we did not want office gossip. We had a small private ceremony out of town. Only close family knew. “You already told your family?” I asked.
“Some of them?” she said. “I told my mother I met someone serious. She was surprised but pleased. The rest will expect to see proof soon.” I looked up. “And what about my mom?” “You tell her what you are ready to tell her,” Luna said. “But understand this, if this blows up, it hurts both of us. You are not just a prop in my life. You are tied to it.
” There was a small pause on that last part. It made something twist in my chest. “Any questions?” she asked. I wanted to ask how she slept at night with this much pressure on her shoulders. I wanted to ask if she was scared. Instead, I said, “Not yet.” That first night felt strange. I unpacked in the guest room that was now my room.
