It had been days since I moved in, and somehow, we'd already developed a routine that felt suspiciously like a clause in a contract.
He'd leave early for work. I'd make coffee.
We'd talk about schedules, groceries, and who finished the almond milk.
It wasn't terrible.
Just… efficient.
Like everything else about him.
This morning, I was curled up on the couch in his too-perfect living room, watching reruns of some cooking show, when the intercom buzzed.
"Delivery?" I mumbled, getting up.
The guard's voice crackled through.
"Mrs. Maxim? There's a Mr. Alonzo here to see you. Says he's your grandmother's lawyer."
My blood froze.
"What?" I blurted.
"He's here? Now?"
"Yes, ma'am. Should I send him up?"
I glanced around the condo.
Coffee mug on the table.
My messy hair.
Callisto's jacket draped over the armrest.
"Uh… one second!"
I sprinted down the hall.
"Callisto!" I hissed, knocking on his office door. "Emergency!"
He opened it a moment later, sleeves rolled up, looking irritatingly composed. "What happened?"
"Alonzo," I said. "Grandma's lawyer. He's here. Right now."
He blinked once. "Unannounced?"
"Yes!"
He checked his watch. "He must be verifying the marriage."
"No kidding," I snapped. "What do we do?"
He looked perfectly calm. "We act married."
"Easy for you to say! You look like you were born wearing a tuxedo. I look like I just fought a couch cushion."
"You look fine," he said.
"That sounded like pity."
"It wasn't."
"Still sounded like it."
He ignored me, slipped on his jacket, and straightened his cuffs.
"Let's go, Mrs. Maxim."
"Don't call me that in private. It sounds weird."
He smirked. "Then start practicing. He's on his way up."
I barely had time to fix my hair before the doorbell rang.
Callisto opened it with that calm, polite smile he used in boardrooms. "Mr. Alonzo. Please, come in."
The lawyer stepped inside — sixties, sharp eyes, kind smile, folder in hand.
"Ah, Mr. Maxim. Mrs. Maxim. I hope this isn't a bad time."
"Not at all," Callisto said smoothly. "We were just having coffee."
We were?
He motioned toward the counter.
"Alexandra makes the best coffee. Would you like some?"
I shot him a glare sharp enough to kill, but the lawyer smiled. "That would be lovely."
I forced a grin. "Of course! I'll get that ready."
When I came back, Callisto guided me to sit, his hand lingering briefly at my back.
Subtle. Convincing.
Almost too convincing.
Mr. Alonzo smiled. "You two seem very comfortable together."
"Of course," Callisto said easily. "Aren't we, love?"
I froze.
Then, remembering the act, forced a laugh.
"We are," I said, setting down the cups. "He's been on his best behavior lately."
Mr. Alonzo chuckled. "That's good to hear."
Callisto glanced at me, mischief flickering in his eyes. "See? Even your lawyer agrees I'm the ideal husband."
I kicked his foot under the table. "Don't get used to it, love."
He just smiled, sipping his coffee like he hadn't just weaponized a pet name.
The rest of the questioning flowed smoother after that.
Mr. Alonzo asked about the wedding, our daily routine, our plans.
Callisto answered calmly, adding tiny details — how I took forever to pick a movie, how I left sticky notes on the fridge.
None of it was true, but it sounded real.
When the lawyer finally closed his folder, he said,
"You make a convincing pair. Your grandmother would've been happy to see you settled, Alexandra."
My throat tightened. "Thank you."
The ache came fast — the kind that sneaks up when someone says something kind enough to hurt.
"She always wanted you to have stability," he said softly. "I think she'd be proud."
That one landed deeper. I blinked hard, steadying my voice.
Callisto noticed. His hand brushed mine.
It was brief and firm. A quiet reassurance.
I didn't look at him.
Mr. Alonzo stood. "That will be all for now. Everything seems in order. Thank you for your time."
Callisto walked him to the door. "Our pleasure."
"You two seem genuine," the lawyer said, shaking his hand.
Callisto smiled that easy, practiced smile. "We try our best. Right, love?"
I forced a sweet grin. "Always, love."
Mr. Alonzo laughed. "Beautiful. You remind me of my wife and I, in our younger years."
I smiled politely, silently counting the seconds until the door closed.
When it finally did, I slumped against the counter.
"I think I stopped breathing for ten minutes."
"You handled it well," he said, loosening his tie.
"I almost choked when you called me love."
He looked amused. "Convincing, wasn't it?"
"Too convincing. Next time, warn me before you start throwing endearments around."
"I thought you wanted it to look real."
"I did. But if you say it again, at least pretend to mean it less."
He smirked. "Noted, love."
I threw a dish towel at him.
He dodged easily. "He bought it, though."
"Yeah," I said. "He really did."
"Good," he said quietly. "One less thing to worry about."
I looked at him. The loosened tie.
The faint smile tugging at his mouth.
For a man who swore this was just business, he played the husband role a little too well.
"Next time," I said, grabbing my mug, "you can do the talking. I'll just nod and smile."
"Deal," he said.
I started for my room, but he called softly, "Alex."
"Yeah?"
He nodded once. "You did great."
I smiled without meaning to. "So did you, love."
He blinked, caught off guard this time.
I grinned, satisfied, and shut my door.
Behind it, I couldn't stop the tiny laugh that escaped me.
We fooled him.
We almost fooled me, too.