Chapter 12
Harper
We’reon our way to the grocery store to do some sort of clandestine surprise photo shoot there as part of this fake dating adventure. Alex picked me up after we were both done from work, and luckily, I was off a little early which meant I was able to actually fix my makeup and change clothes. I told myself it’s because of the photos, but part of me wants to look the part—at least try to look like I belong in his world.
“I figure after we’re done with this, we can eat dinner at my place if you want. Talk some and try to figure out which of the things Sam wants us to do we’re actually up for,” he offers, keeping his eyes on the road.
I’m slightly surprised he wants to spend time alone together, but I’m willing to try it. Knowing what sort of events I’m going to be attending would be helpful. It also meant getting a sneak peek at his place, which I’d always been curious about.
“Okay. I feel like I need to mark this down on my calendar then. The day I was allowed in Alexander Xavier’s apartment.”
“Funny, Saint.”
“I might have to take pictures for social media. Brag about the access I have. Then I can have another awkward meeting at work about how they’d like to have an event at your place.”
“I mean, if you want to, we could talk about it. It’s not nearly as big as Ben and Violet’s place.”
“Don’t tell them that, then they’ll just sell it as an intimate gathering and hike the ticket price. Sell special access to your bedroom,” I mutter.
“I’m sensing bitterness on your part there.”
“I’m just frustrated. So is everyone else. We all know how this is going to end, barring some kind of miracle. Everyone is at each other’s throats; abandoning ship or doing more and more ethically gray things to try and keep hope alive that we save this place. It’s depressing, and I really used to love my job.”
“Why is it so hopeless? Don’t families and stuff still go to the museum?”
“Yes, but attendance has been down year over year. Our director is a little stifling too. She doesn’t want to try new exhibits or programs to try and change the demographics of attendance. She’s a nice person but she’s way too concerned with the ‘way they’ve always done things’. You know?”
“I guess. Coaches can be like that sometimes too. So what, they’re pressing you all to use your connections?”
“If we have them. Yes. When they found out I know some of the people I know—because most people in this industry know who Violet is and who she’s married to—then the pressure was on to see if I could get her to help. Now that they know about you… that’s not going to stop either. I’m really sorry about dragging you into it.”
“It’s fine. I told you; I want to help. I owe you anyway. You’re turning your life upside down and putting it on pause to do this for me.”
“I guess that’s true.” I hedge, glad I don’t have to feel guilty for thinking that myself earlier.
“Speaking of pauses… Were you dating someone before? I never asked.”
My eyes flash over to him for a second and back. Not a question I was expecting him to ask. I wasn’t dating anyone. I was sitting on my couch most nights. But I’m not about to admit that when he dates the women he dates and knowing he has a direct line to my ex-husband.
“I was seeing someone. It was still early but I liked him,” I lie.
“Oh yeah? How’d he take the news then?”
“What news?”
“That you’re dating me.” He grins and looks over at me for a moment.
“I didn’t share that bit of information. I just said that I met someone else, and I wanted to see where things went.”
“How long were you seeing him?”
“Is this an interrogation?”
“Just curious if you started dating before or after the divorce.”
“A bit before we officially signed the papers. I mean he was already fucking other people, so it didn’t make sense for me to wait to date. But the first few guys were complete failures. It almost, almost, was enough to make me reconsider getting divorced.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” he says as he pulls into a parking spot.
“You tell Drew that too?”
“Nah. I told Drew he was a fucking idiot.”
“You’ve talked to him since?” I feel a swarm of apprehension in my gut start to form.
“Yeah. We had a drink. He didn’t really want to hear my thoughts on it, and he’s still not thrilled about our arrangement.”
“I didn’t expect he would be.”
“He’ll get over it. He’s just convinced he can win you back.”
“Convinced he can win me back? We barely even talk and I’m pretty sure he’s still mid-post-divorce-hoe-phase.” I laugh at the idea there’d even be a chance of us together again.
“What if he got his act together though? Apologized? Tried to work things out between you?”
The apprehension turns another round.
“You’re not taking his side, are you? Because if you try to lobby for him, I’m calling this whole thing off. I do not want to hear it.”
“No. I’m not. He asked though. I told him to fuck off. I thought you made a good decision. I just don’t want to be in the middle of this if you two decide to reconcile.” Alex is looking at me closely, studying me like he’s trying to puzzle something out.
“No. Never going to happen.”
“All right. Just making sure I’m not tampering with true love.” He smirks at me. “You ready to do this?”
“Might as well get it over with.”
“This feels ridiculous,”I mutter thirty minutes later as we stand in a grocery aisle while Sam’s photographer pretends to stumble on us in the wild and take photos.
“It is.”
“So why are we doing it?”
“Normal couple doing normal things. Sam doesn’t want it all to be flashy with us going out. She says it looks fake.”
“Which it is,” I mumble as I look over dozens of kinds of frozen junk food. All of them looking delicious to my rumbling stomach.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“Pizza? Stir fry?” I start randomly naming things in front of me.
“What about quesadillas?”
“Where do you see those?”
“I can make a quesadilla.” He gives me a side-eye.
“You can cook?” I look at him with mock surprise.
“I mean, I don’t claim to be a chef or anything, but I make a few decent meals, and my quesadillas are pretty damn good.”
“Oh, I definitely need to see you cook. So let’s do that.” I grin at him, and he shakes his head.
“No belief in me. I see how it is.”
“What about dessert though?”
“That’s not a question you ask a man undergoing forced celibacy, Saint.”
“Ha. I’m being serious.”
“Cherry pie. With whipped cream. Maybe a couple cans of it.” He can’t keep a straight face and starts to laugh.
“Are we reliving your college days now?”
“Are you offering to help me relive them?”
I give him a look and then return to browsing the aisle. “What about some sorbet?”
“Less nostalgic, but I can still think of some things we can do with it.”
I roll my eyes at him and grab a couple of different flavors off the shelf and put them in our grocery cart. A moment later his cell phone dings, and I see him look at it and then his eyes flash up to me.
“All right. They got what they need so we’re good. Anything else you want?” He tucks the phone back in his pocket.
“Nah. I’m good.”
“All right, let’s get the rest of the stuff for quesadillas and then get out of here before someone actually spots us.” He makes a grimacing smile.
“That get old?” I ask as we head to the register.
“Most of the time I don’t mind. I’m grateful for the support, but I think I’d rather you not have to dive into the deep end.”
“I can handle it. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this.” I look up at him.
“Even when it means forced grocery shopping?”
“Yes, but—“ I pause as we head down the candy aisle. “You’re getting these for me.”
I toss a bag of sour gummies into the cart and grin.
“What are those for?”
“The movie after dinner, obviously. If we’re going to keep doing this fake dating thing, we need to do it right.”
“Ah, in that case…” He stares at the candy and then tosses a couple more bags in.
I laugh and shake my head. We finish up our shopping trip a couple of minutes later. It feels oddly normal, to be grocery shopping with him. Pretending we’re a couple just getting things for dinner. This might not be as bad as I thought.