Prologue

Loss has become a part of me. Sometimes loss is a spark on fragile kindling that triggers a blazing wildfire. But like new growth sprouts through burnt earth afterwards, new life comes eventually.

Trust me, I've become kind of an expert on grief in the past few years. I lost my husband and my uncle in a short span of time. My family is tight-knit, so the loss of both men reverberated through us, shaking our usually firm foundation.

My footsteps echo loudly as I walk through the house towards the hallway that contains all my family pictures. The house I designed and built just for myself, without anyone else in mind.

I come to a slow stop at the picture of Marcus and me on our wedding day. That day had been perfect, perfectly frozen in my memory. My smile in the picture is bright as always, but Marcus' is softer, a private one meant just for me. His smile used to feel so earned to me, like by making Marcus grin, I'd accomplished some great feat.

The pain of losing him has turned into a dull ache, less glass-edge sharp than only a year ago. This subsiding pain is just another sign to me that I'm ready to move forward. My still tender heart leaves me in a sort of limbo—one foot in, one foot out—ready to try again.

Just earlier in the day I took off my wedding ring for the final time, tucking it away in a drawer of my dresser. The action was the last of many steps of letting myself move forward. I won't say "move on," but moving forward feels better, more accurate. To maybe try again. But going on dates … doing the entire thing … I don't know if I'm ready for that.

I wish the universe could just give me the perfect someone without having to search for them. Life is never that easy though.

My Irish setter, Whiskey, barks and startles me out of my reverie when my front door gingerly pushes open.

"Colby?" my cousin Beau calls out from the front entrance.

I pad barefoot down the hallway with my hands shoved deep into my jeans pockets. My cousin is standing by the front door, patiently waiting for me to come into view. Beau's been a steady rock for me the past few years, visiting almost every Sunday on his way home from the family farm.

"Hey." My voice comes out scratchy, even to my own ears. Hot shame wells up inside me for just a moment before disappearing, this is Beau, it's alright for him to witness my grief.

"Colby," Beau says softly, voice full of tender empathy. He takes his ball cap off, rubbing at the dark brown hairs standing up on the top of his head. "Bad day?"

A helpless shrug is all I can give Beau in answer. Bad days are far and few between now, but they still come. Less out of sadness these days and more out of loneliness. Some days the distinct lack of noise in my house is so overwhelming that I could weep.

Beau quietly follows me into the kitchen. After handing Whiskey a small treat, I fondly pat her head. I grab a beer out of the fridge to hand to Beau. Silence surrounds us for a bit as we stand sharing beers and company.

Whiskey is a solid presence by my feet just like she has been the past few years. She'd been a present from Marcus before I'd lost him. To keep you company, Marcus had said with a wry smile. The unsaid once I'm gone, had almost killed me then, but I'm grateful for his sweet thoughtfulness now.

"How's your mom?" I ask Beau as I take a slow sip of my beer.

It's easier to focus on my aunt, on Beau, because their grief is fresher, much sharper than mine. Beau's always been a quiet kind of guy, tenderhearted too. I'm a few years older than him, so I've always been a protector of sorts for him, despite him towering over me even by the time we were teens.

"Mom's doing good. She's working back in the front office again." Beau takes a steadying sip of his own beer. "Listen, I got a suggestion for you. But you gotta not be judgmental."

I skewer him with the most intense look I can summon. "Beau, it's me. I was there that time you jumped naked into the springs on a dare when you were a kid."

"True," Beau says with a hearty chuckle.

I hold my beer out, using it to gesture for Beau to go on.

"Maybe you need to get back in the saddle. Get back out there. Just pull the Band-Aid off."

"That's a lot of metaphors, Beau."

"Shut up." Beau shoots me a crooked smile as he belly laughs. I've missed his laugh so much the last few months. "Do you remember Trevor?"

"Yeah," I tell him, rubbing at my unshaven jaw as I recall Beau's last boyfriend. "That guy you brought to Andy's wedding? To your dad's funeral too. What happened to him?"

Beau lets out a deep breath, then tiredly rests his forearms on the kitchen island. Exhaustion radiates off of him, and I wish I could help him, but I don't know how. He anxiously taps his fingers against the beer bottle he cradles in his hands. Clearly he wants to share with me but is unsure. So I wait him out.

"Listen, I hired him."

"You hired him," I repeat in confusion.

"He was a fake boyfriend. I hired him for the wedding and again for the funeral."

I laugh and shake my head in utter disbelief. This is nothing like Beau. "Why the hell would you do that?"

Beau stands up again, anxiously running his hand over his head. He paces a little in the kitchen, then turns his heartsick gaze back to me. "Dad was so sick, and Mom was worried shitless, and I wanted them to think I was happy. I wanted Dad to die thinking I was happy."

"Oh, Beau."

My heart simultaneously aches for him and me. Both of us are so torn apart by grief for very different reasons. Beau sends me a sad, miserable sort of smile before grabbing his beer to finish it off in just a few gulps. He places the empty beer on the island, aiming a narrow-eyed, serious look at me.

"I think you should do it."

"Do what?"

"Hire a fake boyfriend. You got that week off in early July because you close the firm." I go to stop him, but Beau holds out a hand for me to keep listening. "Take that week off and play boyfriend, feel alive again. Maybe it'll help you get out of your funk, move on a little bit. Not that I'm telling you to move on from Marcus after a week playing boyfriend, but you know what I mean. We all loved him, but we love you too."

I think those are the most words I've ever heard Beau say at once. I nod at him, taking his argument into serious consideration. He claps my shoulder in his large hand, squeezes firmly once, then leaves without another word. Which is just so Beau.

I watch him slowly disappear up my driveway. Beau easily jumps over the fence, finally vanishing out of my sight towards his own property.

Whiskey looks up at me begging for another treat, so I give her one because she's the best girl. My mind whirs with thoughts about what Beau just told me. A fake boyfriend? Trevor had seemed so in love with Beau, it had seemed so real. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull my phone out to find a text from Beau with the contact information for the agency.

The Boyfriend Experience.

I finish my Sunday night chores around the house with an anxious heart. Cook dinner for myself, get ready for the week ahead. All the usual things that keep me busy and my mind elsewhere.

Once I'm in bed for the night with Whiskey curled up at my feet, I stare at my phone like it could catch on fire.

Do I dare do it? Do I hire a fake boyfriend for a week? I pull up a photo of me and Marcus from our last vacation. Our last bit of joy before everything went to shit. I can basically hear Marcus in my head telling me to do it. Hear him teasing me for even waiting so long. That familiar teasing voice is all the confirmation I need.

The business is sleek, I'll give them that. The owner, a young curly-haired blonde, talks about how she started the business with her best friend during college. He was the fake boyfriend and she ran behind the scenes. It goes on and on for a bit about the level of professional boyfriend they aim to provide from wedding dates, to work outings, to just for the weekend. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I realize I'm really going to do this. I'm going to hire a fake boyfriend.

The website has a survey to fill out. It's very thorough, not just for what I expect in a boyfriend, but what the boyfriend can expect from me. The survey even goes as far as to ask about kinks and preferences. Maybe I can also explore some of the kinks I haven't explored in years, ones that Marcus didn't love, so I easily abandoned them. We experimented a lot, but there were things I left behind when we got together. It was never a hardship, because I loved Marcus. But it could be exhilarating to try them again after so many years.

The whole process doesn't take as long as I expected. However, typing out just a few sentences zaps all the energy from me. I turn onto my side to stare at the wall of my bedroom. Sleep comes for me, but it takes a while. Thoughts of my future fake boyfriend filter into my dreams that night. The promise of something unexpected on my horizon. Maybe something great.