“You don’t sound very excited about it.”
He let out an exasperated sigh.
“It’s Elite PR’s idea. Apparently, we need young people with millions of followers posting pictures of wine glasses to ‘revitalize our image.””
The disdain in his tone made me smile.
“You don’t agree?”
“Don’t get me wrong.” Christian stood and walked to the window. “I understand the importance of social media. But Kensington has four generations of tradition. I wanted something that reflected our history, our authenticity. Not just a generic backdrop for selfies and hashtags.”
“What do you mean, generic?”
He gestured vaguely.
“An ‘Instagrammable picnic’ among the vineyards. Balloons, colorful pillows, fairy lights. It could be any brand, any product. None of that says ‘Kensington.”” He shook his head. “But Marcus insisted we needed a stronger social media presence, and Elite PR is ‘the best in the market right now.””
“The best?” I let out a scoff. “Please. They’re pathetically generic-you said it yourself.”
Christian looked at me curiously.
“And who would you suggest then? If not the trendiest agency around?”
“Me.”
The word slipped out before I could think better of it. Christian turned fully toward me, eyebrows raised.
“You?”
I felt my cheeks heat, but I held his gaze.
“You forget I graduated alongside Elise.” I shrugged, trying to sound casual.
“In the same field?”
“Public Relations and Marketing. Yes.”
Christian frowned, clearly surprised.
“But you sell wedding dresses.”
“Because I needed a job, and that’s what was available.” I looked away, feeling oddly vulnerable as I revealed this part of myself. “Not all of us have the luxury of following our dreams right away.”
Something in his expression softened.
“But you’ve never actually worked in PR?”
“No.” I smiled faintly, tinged with sadness. “But people have to start somewhere, don’t they?”
Christian moved closer, sitting on the armrest of the chair where I was.
“You’re serious? About PR being your dream?”
I hesitated. It was something I rarely admitted out loud, something I had buried beneath layers of pragmatism and necessity.
“Not for something as big as Kensington, obviously.” I shrugged. “But yes, I still have that dream.”
Christian looked at me differently then, as if he were seeing me for the first time.
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“Why didn’t you ever mention it before?”
“It never seemed relevant to our… arrangement.” I gave a humorless smile. “Besides, after Elise became so successful in the field, it was easier to just… let that dream go.”
He kept watching me, his eyes searching my face as if trying to find something.
“You keep surprising me, Zoey Bennett.”
Something in the way he said my name made my heart race. There was an intimacy in that moment that had nothing to do with our bodies and everything to do with the parts of ourselves we rarely showed the world.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” I said, breaking the moment. “Tomorrow we’ll have to smile and pose for dozens of influencers. We’d better rest.”
Christian nodded and stood.
“I’ll set up the couch.”
Like the nights before, he grabbed a pillow and blanket to make do with the sofa. As I headed into the bathroom to change, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much had shifted in just a few days. Not only between Christian and me, but inside myself.
When I returned, wearing a more modest nightgown than the ones before, Christian was sitting on the couch, looking at his phone.
“All set for tomorrow?” I asked.
He lifted his eyes, and for a moment, something flickered across his face-something I couldn’t quite place.
“All set.”
I slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.
“Good night, Christian.”
“Good night, Zoey.”
In the dark, I heard him settle onto the couch. For some reason, the distance between us felt greater than ever, despite the intimate conversation we had just shared. Or maybe… precisely because of it.
Sleep was slow to come, my mind replaying our words. “It’s not something you get over overnight.” He still had feelings for Francesca. And I still had feelings for Alex. Two wounded people, pretending at something that didn’t exist, while hiding truths too painful to fully reveal.
What a strange pair we made.
I studied my reflection in the mirror as I finished applying lipstick. The dress I had chosen for the event was a deep shade of blue, cut as if it had been tailored precisely for my body. The fluid silk moved smoothly with every step, creating an ethereal effect that contrasted with the simplicity of the design. Like all of Christian’s other gifts, it was elegant without being flashy, sophisticated without excess.
Christian had already gone down to check the final preparations, leaving me alone with my restless thoughts. The conversation from the night before still echoed in my head: him admitting he still felt something for Francesca, me revealing my long-buried dream in public relations. Two broken people pretending to be a perfect couple- the irony wasn’t lost on me.
When I finally descended to the vineyards where the event was being held, I almost didn’t recognize the place. The rustic elegance of the winery had been transformed into a colorful spectacle that looked like it had been ripped straight out of a social media décor fair. Balloon arches in pastel tones, oversized cushions scattered strategically, fairy lights hanging from metal frames, even a floral swing installed between two trees-clearly designed for ” spontaneous” photos.
“Oh my God,” I muttered to myself, eyeing the setup critically.
If it had been me organizing, I would have leaned into authenticity. None of this said centuries-old winery with tradition. Where were the rustic wooden tables? The antique barrels as décor? The guided tastings led by experts? Why not highlight the family’s story, the history behind every award-winning wine?
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