Zoey Harper was not pregnant. She wasn’t even remotely close to being pregnant. Yet, here she was, staring at her phone as the latest headline flashed across her screen: “Zoey Harper and Liam McAllister Expecting! A New Star is Born?”

Her fingers hovered over the screen, then she hit send on the text to Liam. “Seriously? A baby? Did I miss something?”

The reply was immediate: “I’m just as confused as you are.”

Zoey put her phone down, rubbing her temples. She had been at a photoshoot the day before, wearing a loose dress because it was hot as a sauna, and apparently, that was enough for the gossip mill to start churning. She couldn’t even post a picture of her lunch without it turning into “a subtle announcement about baby food.”

Her publicist, Grace, called just as she was about to finish a very sarcastic tweet. “Zoey, darling, we need to address the ‘baby rumors.’”

Zoey groaned. “There’s no baby! There’s not even a hint of a baby! Why is this even a thing?”

Grace, ever the professional, was calm. “Well, darling, your ‘loose dress’ has been interpreted as a maternity dress, and your ‘glow’ has been mistaken for the glow of impending motherhood. You’ve practically worn the pregnancy announcement without realizing it.”

Zoey squinted at herself in the mirror. “I glow because I had a facial, not because I’m growing a tiny human.”

"Exactly. And we can definitely spin this into a brand deal," Grace said, ever the opportunist.

Zoey slapped her hand to her forehead. “Grace, I’m not doing a maternity line deal. I’m not even sure how to fake a baby bump with my stylist without looking like I’m auditioning for a role in a soap opera.”

Grace was undeterred. “Then let’s turn the tables, shall we? You and Liam should do a mock baby photoshoot—no baby, just some props. You can laugh at the rumors and mock the media at the same time.”

Zoey burst out laughing. “You’re actually suggesting I fake a baby? I can’t—”

But then the absurdity of it all hit her. There was a strange, hilarious charm in the chaos. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it. But only if I get to wear a onesie that says, ‘This is NOT my baby.’”

Grace didn’t miss a beat. “Deal. And we’ll make sure to get that onesie in neon pink for the perfect social media scandal.”

Zoey grinned. "I’ll just make sure to avoid the whole ‘glowing’ part, though."

"Or at least get a selfie with the ‘glow’ and a giant pizza in the other hand," Grace suggested.

Zoey snorted. “Now that’s a headline I can get behind.”