Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I’ve changed my mind.”
I frown at him over my shoulder. “You changed your mind? Because I asked if you wanted anything for lunch and you said Lucy already—”
“No.” He stands up straighter then fixes his already neat tie. “I changed my mind about the grading thing.”
My stomach plummets then soars. I feel weightless for the length of time it takes me to realize he’s pranking me. This is April Fools’ a few months early.
“Why?” My tone implies I have zero time for his bullshit. I have cold chicken to eat.
He’s looking over my head when he replies, “Because I need you to do something for me.”
He sounds deadly serious.
My worry starts to compound on itself almost immediately. I accept my card back from the cashier and tuck it into my wallet before grabbing my food. Hudson falls in step beside me as I walk to a table in the corner of the food court. I’d love to take my meal out on the terrace, but seeing as the wind chill outside is hovering near -450 degrees, I’m stuck in here. “What is it? What do you need from me?”
He sighs and looks at me, finally. His eyes are so heavy when they land on mine. Two-ton boulders. “Listen, it’s my mom’s greatest wish, her last wish, to see me happily settled down.”
I gasp. “Oh my god, your mom is dying?”
He shakes his head, unaffected. “No, but I figure it’s better to get this out of the way now while you and I are doing each other favors.”
Grateful I’m not about to have to Make a Wish, I pour dressing over my salad and then do the Kardashian shake. “So what does this favor entail?”
“I can’t believe you’re not outright agreeing.”
“Can you blame me?”
Sure, I’m the more desperate of the two of us, but I need to know what I’m getting myself into. No lawyer signs a contract without reviewing it first.
He leans forward and drops his hands on the table, lowering his voice. “Listen, it’s my mom’s birthday in two weeks. I want you to come to the house with me and play along.”
“So I just show up and pretend to be your date? Your girlfriend? Wife?”
He grins. “Easy there. Girlfriend will do. You’ll smile and act like you absolutely adore me. Sing to my mom, eat cake, yada yada—then we’ll be on our merry way.”
I shake my head as I mull it over. “I’m not sure I’m the best woman for the job. I have a terrible poker face.”
“Okay, just sit there and smile. No talking required. I’ll tell her you’re shy.”
I frown, not sure I believe him on this. “And if I do that, you’ll do the thing I want?”
He stands back up, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. He brushes invisible lint off his shoulder. “Yes. Fine. Whatever.”
“Even if it’ll jeopardize everything?”
His jaw tightens and he looks back at me with an unyielding, stern expression. “It won’t. You convinced me of that. It’ll be one time, and we’ll take the secret to our graves.”
I grin. “Fun. Okay. When?”
“What about tomorrow?”
I scrunch my nose. “On a work night?”
I’d barely have any time to get ready, and I desperately need to wax.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Saturday. You come to my place.”
“Fine. Okay.”
“Should we shake on it?”
“No. Eat your salad.”
I shimmy my shoulders. “I’m excited.”
His mouth is a terse line. He’s really sucking all the joy out of this little arrangement of ours. “You shouldn’t be. You have no idea how much my mom is going to hound you.”
“I’m really good with moms. They love me. Well…Jasper’s mom didn’t love me, but the feeling was mutual there so who cares.” Then my smile falls. “Wait—what’s going to happen when she asks about me after the birthday party?”
He shrugs. “I’ll play it off, tell her you’re busy. Then in a few months, I’ll tell her we broke up.”
“Because you were incapable of giving me the emotional support I needed.”
His brows arch. “Wow, you just think of that on the fly?”
“It’s perfect. Your mom will buy it right away.”
“Why can’t we say it was your fault?”
I rear back. “No. I don’t want your mom to be mad at me.”
“She doesn’t even know you.”
“Promise,” I insist.
He sighs. “Whatever. We’ll come up with some excuse you agree with when the time comes, okay? How’s that?”
I smile, satisfied with the result of our negotiations. “Fine.”
“So Saturday?”
“Saturday.”
Then he walks away, and the second he’s out of sight, I drop my fork into my salad and sit there in a shocked stupor. Eventually, I take my untouched salad upstairs, put it in the fridge in the break room, and get back to work.
The week stretches before me like a never-ending black hole. I check my clock every minute, on the minute, for the next few days.
After work, I cram it all in. I book a facial, a massage, a wax. I get my nails done because for some reason sporting OPI’s Funny Bunny seems crucial. I pull out the La Perla lingerie set I ordered months ago and hand-wash it, then steam it, then when that doesn’t cut it, I iron it, then hang it up on my closet door so it taunts me for the remainder of the week. I rearrange my entire apartment on Friday night then wake up Saturday morning, decide I hate the new layout, and move it all back. Moira is emitting a cacophony of shrill meows. She’d like me to please chill out and stop moving her food bowl from one patch of tile to another patch of tile. She doesn’t understand that we have a special guest coming this evening.