Page 96 of Fake it ’Til Fall

Also, a grumpologist.

Winnifred might be my best bet to fix whatever Forrest already broke, which is impressive, considering we have been fake dating for approximately twelve minutes, and I have already considered changing my name, moving to Canada, and becoming a woman who sells jam at farmers markets under mysterious circumstances.

I call her.

She answers on the fourth ring, slightly breathless. “If this is Soren calling on a three-way call to ask where I put the receipt for the bassinet, tell him I filed it under ‘Things I Will Find When He Stops Hovering.’”

I close my eyes. “It’s just me, Daisy.”

“Oh.” Her voice changes immediately. “Is everyone alive?”

“Physically? Yeah.”

“Good start.”

“Spiritually, I’m not sure, which is why I’m calling.”

“Better start. So . . . what happened?”

I inhale.

Then I tell her.

Not everything. I am not a monster. Also, some details deserve to die quietly in a café storage room beside thirty-six decorative pumpkins. But I tell her the essentials: I have to be in Winterberry the first week of November, which she already knew. Forrest needs a significant other for optics. I agree to be her. Then, Forrest told Mark. Mark told Forrest’s mother. His mother told the town.

Plus, of course, I mention there are rules.

Somehow, this entire fake relationship has gone public before we have even decided whether Forrest owns an appropriate sweater.

Winnifred laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I demand.

“I already knew you were dating my cousin,” she says. “Mom sent a special newsletter with the update that yet another Wolfcraft has betrayed the family by entangling himself with a Thorn.”

“She did not say that,” I say, trying not to sound anxious.

Obviously, I fail. My voice has the structural integrity of a wet napkin.

“Not in those exact words.”

“Oh, good. So only spiritually libelous.”

“Pretty much.”

“Fantastic. I’ve always wanted to be a line item in someone else’s family collapse.”

“I was planning to call you later and discuss this sudden relationship.”

“Well, it’s now public knowledge in Winterberry Cove, and I feel like I’m about to get caught.” I press my free hand to my forehead. “Not even dramatically caught. Worse. Socially caught. Someone might call me concerned and then ask whether I’ve tried magnesium.”

“Your biggest problem was announcing the fake relationship before the event,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“People have plenty of time to ask questions and request details.”

I go still.