Wyatt Freeman was flat on his back under a Honda Civic at 3:30 on a Friday afternoon in November, staring up at a belly-pan that refused to cooperate and listening to the familiar music of his small town: tires on gravel, a distant dog barking, the soft tick of cooling metal from the car beside him. His shop was warm in that stubborn way garages get in late fall, heated more by engines and effort than by any respectable furnace. The air tasted like motor oil and old coffee. His hands were blackened with grease, and the wrench in his palm kept slipping like it had a grudge.

When the bell above his shop door chimed, Wyatt didn’t move. It was probably his parts delivery running late again, and the last thing he wanted was to slide out from under the Civic just to get told, sorry, the shipment got rerouted.

Then he heard a woman’s voice.

“Excuse me… is anyone here?”

Something in that tone made his instincts stand up straighter than his spine could. It wasn’t the usual irritation of a customer who’d been quoted a repair. It sounded like someone either about to cry or about to throw up, possibly both.

Wyatt rolled out from under the car, pushing himself upright with a grunt, wiping his hands on a rag that was already beyond redemption. He blinked up into the fluorescent shop lights and saw her standing in the middle of his garage like she’d walked into the wrong universe.

She wore a Maplewood Fresh Mart uniform, the kind with a name tag clipped neatly to the chest. She clutched her keys so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. Wyatt recognized her as the cashier from the supermarket, the one who always smiled when she scanned his groceries and asked Nora how school was. He knew her as a familiar face in a small town, not as someone who looked like her whole life had just tipped sideways.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Wyatt asked, switching into the steady voice he used when customers panicked about warning lights. “You having car trouble?”

The woman started pacing, quick steps, hands moving like she was trying to arrange the air into something that made sense. She seemed to be arguing with herself out loud.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “I can’t just ask a stranger this. This is completely crazy. I should leave and figure something else out.”

Wyatt stood there holding the wrench as if it was going to translate whatever language this moment was speaking.

“Ma’am,” he tried again, gentler this time. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

She stopped pacing, turned toward him, and her eyes were the kind of brown that looked warm when life was good but right now looked like a storm had moved in and decided to stay. She took a shaky breath and blurted the sentence so fast it nearly fell over itself.

“Can you pretend to be my date for a day?”

Wyatt stared. He genuinely thought he’d misheard her because the human brain has limits, and “random woman asks mechanic to fake-date her” was beyond his.

“I’m sorry,” he said, blinking. “What?”

Her shoulders lifted, then fell, like she’d been holding the question up for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore.

“My name is Isa Chen,” she said, words spilling out at a frightening speed. “I work at the supermarket. My boss, Mrs. Duncan, told corporate eight months ago that I was engaged to make me look stable during layoffs. I played along because I thought it would blow over, but now corporate is coming tomorrow for employee family day and they want to meet everyone’s families, including my completely fictional fiancé. Mrs. Duncan told me to just find a nice young man and bring him, like it’s easy. If I show up alone I’m exposed as a liar and my boss gets humiliated and I get fired and I can’t lose this job because my parents are counting on me for my dad’s medication bills.”

She finished on a breath that sounded like it hurt.

Wyatt’s brain tried to stack those facts into something organized. In the background, the Civic waited patiently, indifferent to human chaos. Wyatt looked at Isa’s face and saw the ugly truth behind her words: she wasn’t asking because it was fun. She was asking because she was terrified.

“Why me?” Wyatt asked, because it was the first reasonable question that came to him. “You don’t even know me.”

Isa laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Because you’re literally the only single guy in this town who isn’t related to me, dating someone, or a total creep. I’ve seen you at the store with your daughter. You’re always nice. You don’t gossip. You just… you seem like a decent person who might possibly help someone who’s drowning.”

Wyatt opened his mouth to answer, but before he could figure out which answer belonged to him, the door to his back office flew open and a small blur shot out like a firecracker.

Nora, his seven-year-old daughter, ran into the shop with her blonde ponytail bouncing and her Superman backpack still strapped on. Her cheeks were pink from the cold outside, and she carried the proud energy of a kid who’d just done something hard.

“Dad!” she announced. “I finished all my math homework and I didn’t even need help this time!”

Then she saw Isa and lit up like someone had just promised her a pony and a trampoline.

“Oh, hi!” Nora said brightly, marching forward with the confidence only second graders have. “Are you my dad’s girlfriend? Finally. I’ve been asking him to get one like forever.”

Wyatt’s face went hot. “No, sweetie,” he stammered. “She’s just a customer who needs help with something.”

Nora planted her hands on her hips, studying Isa like a tiny judge. “My dad is really, really good at helping people,” she declared. “He fixes cars even when people can’t pay sometimes. And he says helping people is the most important thing you can do. So he’ll totally help you.”

Isa’s eyes filled up. She looked from Nora to Wyatt like she’d just been handed a lifeline and felt guilty for grabbing it.

“I can pay you,” Isa said, voice cracking. “I have two hundred dollars saved. It’s yours. I just need you to show up tomorrow afternoon for four hours and pretend we’re engaged and eat some potato salad and then we never have to see each other again. Please. I’m begging you.”

Wyatt felt his own chest tighten, not from romance, not from thrill, but from the weight of being asked for something that mattered. His instincts screamed that this was wrong. It was lying. It was fraud, in the way ordinary people get punished for while powerful people call it “strategy.” It was also the kind of lie that spreads, because lies don’t like being alone.

But then he looked at Isa’s face. At the fear in it. At the way her hands shook around her keys.

And he looked at Nora, standing there with her mother’s eyes, waiting to see if her dad actually lived by the things he taught her.

Claire, his late wife, used to laugh at him for this part of him. You’re too soft, she would say, not as an insult but as a fact she loved anyway. She’d tease him when he fixed cars for people who couldn’t pay, when he volunteered at school events even when he was exhausted, when he stayed to help neighbors shovel snow. You’re going to get yourself in trouble one day, she’d warn.

Maybe this was the day.

Wyatt heard himself speak before he fully decided.

“Keep your two hundred,” he said.

Isa’s head snapped up, hope rushing into her face so fast it almost looked like shock.

“I’ll do it,” Wyatt continued. “But if we’re going to pull this off, we need our story straight. If your boss is as nosy as you’re making her sound, she’s going to ask questions. We better have answers that match.”

Isa sagged like someone had cut the ropes holding her upright. Tears spilled down her cheeks right there in the shop.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Nora made a triumphant noise like she’d won a bet. “I knew it.”

Wyatt rubbed his forehead, already mentally calculating how he was going to explain this to his mother, who believed lying was a slippery slope straight into disaster. He imagined his mom’s face when he said, So, I’m fake-engaged to the supermarket cashier for a corporate family day. He could practically hear the silence that would follow.

They agreed to meet that night at Wyatt’s house to rehearse their fake relationship. Nora insisted she had to come to the event.

“If you’re pretend engaged,” she said, “then I need to be there to make it look real. Plus, I can tell everyone how much you love each other.”

Isa actually laughed for the first time since walking in. It startled Wyatt how good it sounded in his shop, like sunlight in a place built for shadows.

As Isa turned to leave, she paused in the doorway and looked back at him.

“Why are you really doing this?” she asked. “You don’t know me.”

Wyatt leaned against his workbench, the wrench finally set down. He gave her the truth because if he was going to lie tomorrow, he wanted at least one honest moment today.

“Because I know what it’s like to need a job and be scared of losing it,” he said. “And because you were brave enough to ask for help when you were drowning. Most people are too proud. They go under.”

Isa stared at him like he’d said something rare.

After she left, Nora stood beside him and tilted her head.

“Dad,” she said with the casual cruelty of childhood honesty, “she’s really pretty and she seems nice. Can she be your actual girlfriend after tomorrow?”

Wyatt ruffled her hair. “It doesn’t work like that, honey.”

Nora grinned. “It should.”

That night, Isa arrived at seven o’clock sharp.

Wyatt’s house wasn’t fancy. It was clean and warm and lived-in, the kind of home where shoes piled by the door and crayons appeared in places crayons shouldn’t. A photo of Claire and Nora sat on the mantle, Claire smiling like the world hadn’t taken anything from them yet.

Isa stepped inside carefully, like she was afraid to disturb something sacred.

They sat at Wyatt’s kitchen table with notebooks like they were cramming for the strangest exam of their lives. They decided they met at the supermarket in the cereal aisle. They’d been dating eight months. That matched Mrs. Duncan’s timeline. Wyatt would be a repeat customer, persistent, charming. Isa would finally say yes after he proved he wasn’t just bored.

They got stuck on the proposal story, because proposals are supposed to mean something and theirs was an invention built from panic.

From upstairs, Nora’s voice drifted down, clearly not asleep like she was supposed to be.

“It should be romantic,” she yelled. “Like when Superman saves Lois Lane and they just know they’re supposed to be together!”

Wyatt and Isa both burst out laughing, the kind of laughter that shakes tension loose.

Somewhere around nine, after they covered favorite foods, colors, and basic couple trivia, the conversation accidentally turned real.

Isa told him about putting herself through community college while working full-time. About sending money home for her dad’s heart medication. About how her mother pretended not to worry but washed the same dishes three times when bills arrived.

Wyatt found himself telling her things he didn’t usually tell new people. About growing up in foster care. About being passed between homes like a lost object. About meeting Claire when he was twenty-three, and how she’d looked at him like he was worth something before he knew how to believe it. About having Nora when he was twenty-eight. About Claire getting sick when Nora was three and how Wyatt had held her hand and promised he’d be okay, even though they both knew he was lying.

“So you’ve been raising her alone this whole time?” Isa asked quietly.

Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. Hardest thing I ever did.”

“But she’s…” Isa smiled faintly. “She’s amazing.”

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Wyatt said, and the truth tightened his throat. “She keeps me going on the days I don’t want to get out of bed.”

Isa reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just steady.

“She’s lucky to have you,” she said.

Wyatt swallowed. “I’m lucky to have her.”

When Isa left around nine-thirty, she stood on his porch, pulling her jacket tighter.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, her mouth tilting into a nervous smile. “Fake fiancé.”

Wyatt nodded. “See you tomorrow. We got this.”

After her car lights disappeared down the street, Nora appeared at the top of the stairs in princess pajamas, blinking sleep from her eyes.

“Dad,” she whispered, “I really like her. She laughs at your jokes even when they’re not that funny.”

Wyatt chuckled softly. “Go to bed.”

Nora didn’t move. She studied him.

“Mom would like her,” Nora said.

The words hit Wyatt sideways, sharp and gentle at once. Nora barely mentioned Claire. When she did, it always felt like stepping on a spot in the floor that still hadn’t healed.

Wyatt blinked hard. “Yeah?”

Nora nodded solemnly. “You always say Mom used to tell you to help people and be happy. Isa needs help and she makes you smile. So Mom would approve.”

Wyatt’s chest tightened in a way he couldn’t name. He scooped Nora up and carried her back to bed.

“Happy tears are okay, Dad,” Nora whispered as he tucked her in, like she could read the storm inside him.

After he closed her door, Wyatt stood in the hallway, staring at the quiet house.

Tomorrow was supposed to be four hours of pretending and then back to normal.

So why did the idea of never seeing Isa again make his chest feel strange and tight, like someone had wrapped a wire around his ribs and pulled?

Maybe Nora was right.

Maybe Claire would approve.

And that thought felt like permission.

Saturday morning came cold and bright. Wyatt picked Isa up in his freshly washed truck at ten-thirty. Nora buckled herself into the back seat, practically vibrating with excitement in her favorite purple dress.

“If I’m going to help you pretend,” she’d announced at breakfast, “I need to look fancy.”

Isa climbed into the passenger seat wearing a simple blue dress she’d borrowed from her sister. She looked like she might pass out. She kept running through their cover story under her breath like it was a lifeline.

“We met at the supermarket… you asked me out three times… we’ve been together eight months…”

Wyatt reached over and took her hand without thinking.

“Breathe,” he said. “I got you. We’re going to be fine.”

The handholding felt too natural for two people who’d known each other less than a day, and that alone should have scared him. Instead, it steadied both of them.

Maplewood Fresh Mart’s parking lot had been transformed with balloons and folding tables and a huge banner that read CELEBRATING OUR FAMILY. Employees and their families filled the space, eating from buffet tables, playing lawn games, laughing under thin November sunlight.

Isa’s hand tightened in Wyatt’s as they walked toward the crowd.

Mrs. Duncan spotted them immediately and barreled over like a hurricane in sensible shoes. She was in her sixties, with big hair and an even bigger personality. Her face lit up like she’d been waiting for this moment all year.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” she exclaimed. “Is this him? Is this your fiancé? And who is this absolutely precious angel?”

Nora stepped forward and stuck out her hand exactly like Wyatt had taught her.

“I’m Nora Freeman,” she said proudly. “Wyatt is my dad. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. That’s a really pretty necklace.”

Mrs. Duncan clutched her chest like her heart couldn’t handle the cuteness. “Lord help me,” she declared. “You didn’t tell me he had such a polite daughter.”

Then she turned to Wyatt and started grilling him before he could even say hello. What did he do for work? How did they meet? Where did he grow up? What was his favorite thing about Isa? Was he ready for marriage? Was he prepared for Maplewood winters?

Wyatt started with the rehearsed story, but somewhere between Mrs. Duncan’s questions and Isa’s trembling, he felt a strange urge to make it… warmer. Less like homework.

“She had this smile,” Wyatt said, looking at Isa, “that completely stopped me in my tracks. I asked her out right there by the Cheerios. She shot me down, told me she didn’t date customers.”

Isa’s head whipped toward him. That was not the story.

Mrs. Duncan loved it. “Oh, how romantic,” she sighed. “Persistence. I love a man who knows what he wants.”

Isa jumped in, improvising with him, eyes wide but steady. “He kept showing up every Saturday morning at 9:15 like clockwork,” she said. “And I finally said yes just to see if he was for real.”

Wyatt grinned. “Turns out I was very for real. Best decision I ever made was buying cereal I hate for two months straight.”

They riffed off each other like they’d been doing it for years. When Mrs. Duncan wandered off, Wyatt and Isa stood there holding hands, fighting laughter.

“Nice cereal detail,” Isa whispered.

Wyatt shrugged. “I panicked.”

The corporate VP, Mr. Brennan, arrived about twenty minutes later. He wore khakis and a polo shirt with the company logo, the uniform of a man who wanted to look approachable while staying in charge.

He shook Wyatt’s hand. “So you’re the fiancé,” he said, tone measured.

“Yes, sir,” Wyatt replied.

“And what do you do?”

“I own an auto repair shop,” Wyatt said.

Mr. Brennan nodded approvingly. “Good, honest work. We need more young people willing to work with their hands these days. You found yourself a good one, Isa.”

The day turned into a parade of couple activities. Wyatt and Isa got roped into a three-legged race, their legs tied together with a bandana. They stumbled, laughed, nearly fell, then somehow won. When they crossed the finish line, they hugged, and the hug lasted one beat too long. Long enough for Wyatt to smell her shampoo and feel her heart racing against his chest.

On the sidelines, Nora screamed, “That’s my dad! That’s my Isa! They’re the best!”

For a second, Wyatt forgot it was fake because it felt… real in his body. Real in the way Isa’s hand fit into his. Real in the way Nora looked at them like she’d found something she’d been missing.

Then came couples trivia.

They should have bombed it. Two strangers couldn’t possibly answer questions meant for long-term partners. But somehow they didn’t.

Favorite food?

“Pizza,” they both said at the same time.

Biggest fear?

Wyatt didn’t hesitate. “Letting people down,” he said. “Not being enough.”

Isa’s eyes turned shiny because that was her fear too, and he’d seen it without her saying it.

They won trivia as well. Mrs. Duncan announced over the microphone, “Look at our love birds! So in sync. This is what true love looks like, folks!”

The applause felt like a wave. Isa smiled and clapped and waved, but inside her stomach twisted. All these people believed something that wasn’t true. They were good people. They were cheering for a story built on a lie.

Around two, Isa excused herself to use the bathroom. On her way back she overheard two coworkers near the drink table.

“Did you see Isa’s fiancé?” one said. “He looks at her like she’s everything.”

“I know,” the other replied. “Single dad mechanic who clearly worships the ground she walks on. She hit the jackpot.”

Isa ducked behind a vending machine display, her throat tightening. Worship? Jackpot? She barely knew him. He was just… kind. Kind enough to help a desperate stranger.

Nora spent the event holding Isa’s hand and introducing her to other kids like she was a proud tour guide.

“This is my dad’s fiancée, Isa,” Nora announced to a little boy. “She’s going to be my stepmom soon. Isn’t she pretty?”

The boy frowned. “You’re lucky. My stepmom is mean.”

Nora’s face went serious. “Isa’s not mean. She’s the best. She already loves my dad. I can tell by the way she smiles at him.”

Isa’s chest ached. She felt like the worst person on earth, lying to a child who wanted her father to be happy.

Around three, Wyatt found Isa near the edge of the parking lot, staring at the pavement like it might open and swallow her. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes too bright.

“Hey,” Wyatt said quietly. “You okay? We’re almost done. You’re doing great.”

Isa shook her head, voice tight. “This was a mistake, Wyatt. Nora thinks it’s real. Everyone thinks it’s real. These people are good people and I’m lying to all of them. I feel like garbage.”

“You’re doing what you have to do to keep your job,” Wyatt started.

“That doesn’t make it right,” Isa snapped, then immediately softened because she wasn’t angry at him, she was angry at herself. “I dragged you into being a liar too.”

Before Wyatt could answer, Mrs. Duncan’s voice crackled over the microphone, calling everyone toward the main pavilion.

“Before we wrap up today,” she announced, “I want to recognize some very special people. Isa Chen has been with Maplewood Fresh Mart for six wonderful years. She’s one of our hardest workers and she’s getting married soon to this lovely man. Let’s give them a big round of applause!”

Applause roared. Isa’s skin went cold.

“And,” Mrs. Duncan continued, voice bright with pride, “corporate has approved my recommendation to promote Isa to assistant manager effective immediately! Congratulations, honey!”

The applause got louder. People swarmed Isa with congratulations. Isa smiled, thanked them, hugged coworkers, tried to look normal.

Inside, panic rose like floodwater.

A promotion meant more money, better hours, benefits. It meant her dad’s medication without choosing between bills. It meant breathing room. But if it was based on a lie, then it was poison disguised as a gift.

After the event ended around four, Wyatt drove Isa home with Nora quiet in the back seat, her eyes closed like she was sleeping. The silence in the truck felt heavy, full of things neither adult wanted to say out loud.

“I can’t accept that promotion,” Isa finally said, voice trembling.

Wyatt glanced over, confused. “What are you talking about? You earned it. Mrs. Duncan said you’ve been there six years, busting your butt.”

Isa shook her head hard. “They promoted me because they think I’m this stable, engaged woman with a perfect family. It’s fraud. It’s not real.”

Wyatt pulled into a quiet parking lot and stopped the truck. He turned to face her, elbows resting on the steering wheel like he needed an anchor.

And before his brain could stop his mouth, he said, “So make it not a lie.”

Isa froze. “What?”

Wyatt ran a hand through his hair, suddenly flustered. “Nothing. Forget I said it. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Isa stared at him, not letting it go. “No. Explain. What did you mean?”

Wyatt inhaled slowly. Today had been a long day of pretending, but the feeling in his chest right now wasn’t pretend.

“Today was supposed to be four hours and then we go back to being strangers,” he said. “Except… Isa, I had more fun today than I’ve had in three years. Nora hasn’t been that happy in so long I can’t even remember the last time.”

Isa’s lips parted, eyes wide.

“And when we were doing trivia,” Wyatt continued, “and you laughed at my stupid jokes and you held Nora’s hand like it was natural… it didn’t feel like acting.”

He swallowed, terrified and honest at once. “I’m not saying we should run off and get married tomorrow. That would be nuts. We barely know each other. But what if we didn’t stop? What if we actually dated for real and saw where it goes? Because I haven’t thought about someone the way I’m thinking about you since Claire, and that scares me… but the idea of never seeing you again scares me more.”

Isa looked like she couldn’t breathe.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she whispered. “You already helped me more than I deserved.”

Wyatt reached over and took her hand. “This isn’t about owing you. It’s about… you walked into my shop yesterday and somehow made me feel something I thought was gone.”

From the back seat, Nora’s voice piped up, perfectly casual.

“Oh my gosh, Dad. Just kiss her already. This is taking forever.”

Wyatt and Isa both jumped, then started laughing, the tension cracking open.

Wyatt looked at Isa, suddenly shy. “Can I kiss you for real this time? Not for anyone watching. Just because I really want to.”

Isa nodded, whispering, “Please. Yeah.”

Wyatt leaned across the console and kissed her, soft and sweet and real.

Nora sighed dramatically. “Finally. Okay, now can we get pizza? Because I wasn’t kidding about being starving.”

They broke apart laughing, and Wyatt realized his heart felt lighter than it had in years, like grief had stepped aside for a moment and let something new walk in.

Sunday was simple in the best way. They spent the day together, not rehearsing, not performing. Just existing. Nora insisted on showing Isa her favorite park. Isa helped Wyatt fold laundry without being asked. Wyatt cooked dinner badly, and Isa teased him kindly, and Nora laughed until she hiccupped.

It felt easy.

Which made Monday feel even higher, until it dropped.

Monday morning, Isa walked into work floating. Then Mrs. Duncan called her into the office, face serious, and Isa’s stomach fell.

“Honey,” Mrs. Duncan said, “corporate wants to do a profile piece for the company newsletter about our newest assistant manager. Meet-the-team kind of thing. Since I met your fiancé at family day, I mentioned him. They might reach out for a quote about how proud he is of you.”

Isa’s blood drained. Corporate would call Wyatt. Corporate would ask about an eight-month engagement that didn’t exist.

If Wyatt told the truth, she’d be fired and humiliated. If he lied, they’d be digging deeper into a hole that would eventually collapse.

Isa sprinted to Freeman’s Auto Repair on her lunch break, barely feeling the cold air. She found Wyatt under a Toyota, looking peaceful, unaware their fake story was about to catch fire.

She started talking before he even rolled out.

“Corporate is doing a newsletter piece and they’re going to call you and ask for a quote about how proud you are and if you say we met four days ago then everything falls apart and I get fired and I don’t know what to do—”

Wyatt stood, wiped his hands, and took both of hers in his, grounding her with the calm he’d used in the shop on Friday.

“Okay,” he said. “First thing, breathe. Second thing, when are they calling?”

Isa shook her head frantically. “Anytime this week.”

Wyatt’s eyes held hers for a long moment. “What do you want to do?”

Isa blinked. “What?”

“This is your job, your life,” Wyatt said. “I’ll back whatever call you make, but it’s got to be your decision.”

Isa felt tears start, because when was the last time someone gave her that kind of power? Not corporate, not family pressure, not fear.

“I want to tell the truth,” Isa said, voice shaking. “I can’t build anything real with you on top of lies. Even if it costs me the promotion, I need to come clean.”

Wyatt smiled at her like she’d just chosen courage over comfort.

“Okay,” he said. “Then we do it together. We’ll talk to Mrs. Duncan tomorrow morning. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

Isa threw her arms around him right there in the shop, whispering, “Thank you for not thinking I’m crazy.”

Wyatt hugged her back. “Oh, I definitely think you’re crazy. But I like crazy. Crazy is working for me.”

That night, Isa sat at Wyatt’s kitchen table helping Nora with homework. Nora looked up from her spelling words and asked, blunt as only seven-year-olds can be:

“So are you guys still getting fake married or are you doing real married now?”

Wyatt tried to explain. “It’s complicated, sweetheart.”

Nora frowned. “No, it’s not. You like Isa. Isa likes you. So be together because you want to, not because of some dumb job stuff. Mom always used to say, ‘Do things because they make you happy, not because you have to.’”

Wyatt’s breath caught. That was Claire’s line. Word for word.

Isa’s eyes turned wet. She squeezed Wyatt’s hand across the homework-covered table, and Nora went back to spelling like she hadn’t just rearranged two adults’ entire emotional furniture.

Tuesday morning, Isa and Wyatt walked into Mrs. Duncan’s office together.

Isa confessed everything. How they’d met days ago. How the family day engagement had been fake. How she was sorry. How she’d resign if she needed to.

She talked fast, shaking, trying to get it all out before she lost nerve.

When she finally ran out of words, the room went quiet.

Mrs. Duncan leaned back in her chair and smiled.

“Honey,” she said, “I already knew.”

Isa’s mouth fell open. “You… what?”

Mrs. Duncan laughed. “You think I’ve been managing employees for thirty years and I can’t tell when two people just met? You had to think about his favorite color during trivia. Real fiancés don’t have to think that hard.”

Isa felt dizzy.

“But here’s what I saw,” Mrs. Duncan continued, her tone softening into something almost maternal. “I saw a decent man take a whole day off work to help someone he barely knew. And I watched you two fall in love in real time over potato salad.”

Mrs. Duncan pulled out a paper and slid it across the desk. The promotion approval. Signed and dated from before family day.

“You got this promotion because you earned it,” Mrs. Duncan said firmly. “Six years of showing up, perfect attendance, training every new hire we threw at you. Your engagement had exactly nothing to do with it. I just used that story as an excuse to push corporate to move faster.”

Isa started crying, shoulders shaking with relief. Mrs. Duncan handed her tissues like she’d been waiting for this moment too.

“So here’s my real question,” Mrs. Duncan said, eyes twinkling. “Are you two actually dating now?”

Wyatt and Isa looked at each other, and this time there was no rehearsal.

“Yes, ma’am,” they both said at the same time.

Mrs. Duncan clapped her hands. “Then make it official eventually and there’s no lie to worry about. Now get out of my office. Some of us have actual work to do.”

Outside in the parking lot, Isa stood in the cold air, trying to process what had just happened. The world felt brighter, like someone had adjusted the contrast.

Wyatt turned to her, eyes serious. “I have a completely insane idea.”

Isa laughed through tears. “Crazier than fake dating?”

Wyatt took her hands. “Way crazier. Not today. Not tomorrow. But… someday. I want you in our life. For real.”

Isa stared at him, heart pounding. “Wyatt Freeman… are you saying you want to marry me?”

Wyatt smiled, nervous and hopeful. “I’m saying I want to date you for real and see where it goes, but also I think I already know where it’s going.”

Isa pulled him down and kissed him right there in the supermarket parking lot like she was sealing a promise with laughter and tears.

“Ask me again in a few months,” she whispered. “When we’ve actually done this properly.”

Wyatt grinned. “Deal. But I’m already picking out a ring.”

“That’s extremely presumptuous,” Isa said, smiling.

“That’s called being confident,” Wyatt replied.

Five months went by faster than either of them expected.

They dated for real. They met each other’s families. Isa brought Wyatt home-cooked meals and listened to him talk about cars like it was poetry. Wyatt showed up at Isa’s parents’ house with groceries and gentle respect, helping her dad carry things without making it a performance.

Nora started calling Isa “Isamom” around month four, a word she invented like a bridge between longing and reality. Nobody corrected her because it felt right.

Isa’s promotion went through without a hitch. She was excellent at it, the kind of manager who didn’t lead with fear because she knew what fear did to people.

Wyatt’s business grew, not because life became perfect, but because he stopped living like happiness was disloyal to grief. He still missed Claire. He always would. But he started understanding that love didn’t erase love. It made room.

One night in February, Wyatt whispered “I love you” during Nora’s school play, watching Nora on stage in a cardboard costume, proud and brave. Isa squeezed his hand and said it back immediately, like she’d been waiting for the words to catch up to the truth.

On April 9th, exactly five months after family day, Wyatt told Isa to meet him in the Maplewood Fresh Mart parking lot.

Isa arrived and found Wyatt by his truck looking nervous, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Why are we here?” Isa asked, amused.

Wyatt took her hand. “Because this parking lot is where we stopped lying and started living for real. And I wanted to do this here.”

He got down on one knee right there on the asphalt and pulled out a ring that caught the light like a tiny, stubborn star.

“Five months ago,” Wyatt said, voice shaking, “you asked me to pretend to be youruks. It was the best, worst acting I’ve ever done because I couldn’t pretend even then.”

Isa’s mouth trembled.

“Isa Chen,” Wyatt said, eyes bright, “will you marry me for real this time? Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving that saying yes to your crazy request was the best decision I ever made?”

Isa was already crying, already nodding. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh my God. Yes.”

A small figure burst out from behind a parked car holding a handmade sign.

It was Nora, beaming, ponytail flying, the sign reading: SHE SAID YES! I’M GETTING A MOM! FINALLY!

Isa laughed and sobbed at the same time as she scooped Nora up, spinning her around.

Nora clung to her and asked softly, suddenly serious, “Can I call you mom for real now? Not just in my head?”

Isa’s throat tightened. “Yeah, baby,” she said, tears spilling. “Absolutely you can.”

Mrs. Duncan had organized a small crowd of coworkers and friends who cheered like Maplewood itself had decided to bless this moment.

Eight months later, they got married in a small ceremony at the community center. Nora was the most serious flower girl in Vermont history, carrying a clipboard because she insisted weddings needed organization.

During his vows, Wyatt looked at Isa and said, “You asked a stranger for help and I said yes because I fix broken things. Turns out you fixed me right back.”

Isa’s voice shook when she replied, “You showed up when you didn’t have to and turned my worst mistake into my best truth.”

At the reception, Nora ran up to them while they were dancing and declared, “Mom, Dad, cake time.”

Isa’s heart swelled hearing those words said so naturally. Wyatt pulled both his girls close, thinking about Claire, about the way love still lived in their home, not as a ghost, but as a foundation. He felt, with a quiet certainty, that Claire would have liked Isa’s laugh. That she would have liked the way Isa never tried to replace her, only to join the story with respect.

They walked to the cake table together, the family they’d built accidentally from one desperate question and one impossible yes.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is let someone ask for help without making them feel small.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is tell the truth, even when lying would be easier.

And sometimes, four hours of pretending is just the universe’s strange way of getting two good people to stop being lonely in parallel and start being brave in the same direction.

THE END