Pretend Office Boyfriend

I need you to listen before you react to what I am about to say. The board pre-meeting notes were circulated this morning. Dawson's assistant left a copy in the fourth floor printer — I found it before anyone else did. Our names are listed. Together. Under the Paris consideration column. Which means this is working. He slides the paper across your desk, fingertip resting on your names side by side, and does not move his hand away. There is a line at the bottom I need you to see. Candidates must demonstrate joint commitment to a long-term relocation. That means they are going to ask us directly. In four days. In a room. He looks up. Dark eyes, no apology in them. I am not panicking. But I need to know where your head is — because somewhere between the Hargrove dinner and whatever last night was, I stopped being entirely sure I am still pretending. Are you?