Page 57 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“I’m not dating someone for optics.”

“I didn’t say you had to date someone.”

“You just said I need a healthy relationship.”

“I said people like the appearance of one.”

“That’s worse.”

“That’s marketing.”

“Mark.”

“Listen, I get it. I do. My social media looks like a marriage retreat brochure. But you know where Nikki is right now?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fucking her yoga instructor, probably. Or the pool guy. Or both. Doesn’t matter. Online, we’re aspirational.”

“That is depressing.”

“That is business.”

“No, that’s a cry for help with a filter.”

“Maybe. But the checks clear,” he says. “You trust me because I have a very stable family life.”

“That’s not why I hired you,” I correct him.

“Well, that was ten years ago,” he says, as if there’s an angle. “Today, I have to promote myself differently. The way I’ll convince the eighteen-year-old and his father that I’m a damn good agent is by showing them that my twenty-year-old marriage is stable.”

“It’s a sham.”

“My social media begs to differ.”

I rub a hand over my face.

I should fire him.

I should have fired him three sentences ago.

The problem is, Mark is an asshole, but he’s an effective asshole. In my old life, that was the entire hiring philosophy.

“I’m not going to date someone and start posting pictures like I’m auditioning for emotional stability,” I say.

“No one said you have to post.” He clears his throat. “But sponsors love the social media angle. You’d get more if⁠—”

“Mark, focus.”

“I was approaching the concept.”

“Approach something else.”

He sighs. “Fine. No posts. But if the dinner matters, and the dinner does matter, then bringing someone with you helps. Parents see you’re not isolated. Board members see you have support. Donors see a man with a life instead of a walking incident report.”

There it is again.

The incident.