Chapter 18 April
APRIL
The rest of the game passes in a haze. The Knights win. The adoption event is a massive success—over thirty animals found homes. The photographer got incredible shots.
And I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
Clark drives me home in near silence, but it’s not uncomfortable.
It’s charged. An electric surge. Like we’re both holding our breath, waiting for something.
Or he’s coming down from a game high. Sometimes he’s bombastic—full of restless energy and other times he’s reflective. Usually I can tell, but not tonight.
“That went well,” I finally say as we pull up outside my apartment.
“Yeah. Really well.”
“The campaign stuff, too.” When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “Good publicity.”
“Right. The campaign.”
We’re both staring straight ahead, not looking at each other. I have the urge to lean over and kiss him, but I’m clammy and jittery. What if he doesn’t have the energy to play along? To indulge me? But wait. Then he wouldn’t think of me as a sister. Confusion muddles my mind.
“April—”
“I should go. Early day tomorrow.” Just like when I left his loft, I hastily gather my things—my purse, the stuffed golden retriever, my scattered thoughts.
But before I can escape, Clark’s hand catches mine.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For tonight. For all of this.”
“That’s what fake girlfriends are for.”
Something flickers across his face. “Yeah. Fake.”
It’s like if we both keep repeating it, we’ll believe it.
At least, that’s my strategy, but what’s his?
He couldn’t possibly be attracted to me, could he?
That thought is almost scarier than my lonely life in the “Pining Woods.” Because then what?
Then we really risk losing something special if it doesn’t work out.
I flee into my building before I can do something stupid like ask him if any part of tonight felt real to him, too.
A few days later, I’m at Clark’s apartment doing my usual dog-walking routine when my phone rings. I don’t usually answer unknown numbers, but I am expecting a call from the bank.
“Hello, I’m calling for April Hansen,” an unfamiliar voice says. “This is Jen Wells from JW Commercial Real Estate. I’m returning your call about the storefront on Main Street—the one between the Busy Bee and Once Upon a Romance? You left a message with me expressing interest.”
A nervous and giddy little zing shoots through me.
Last week, on a lark—and okay, fine, inspired by the fat check I should be receiving from the Love at First Wag campaign—I contacted the real estate agency.
Strictly for information gathering purposes, but I’d put it out of my mind entirely because it seemed like such a long shot.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Yes. I’d like to find out more.”
“Happily. I saw your feature in the Love at First Wag campaign, and I have to say, The Barkery concept is brilliant. We’d be happy to set up a time for a tour, show you around, and discuss lease terms if you’re interested.”
“Really?” This comes as a surprise.
“Really. Big hockey family over here. If we’re not at the Ice Palace in person, we’re glued to the TV. Anyway, the campaign has generated significant buzz, and frankly, having a business like yours on Main Street would be perfect for the community. Would you be available to meet next week?”
“Absolutely.” I don’t hide the excitement in my voice.
“Great. Let’s see. One of our associate agents, Sophia, will be able to meet with you on Thursday morning. Does that work?”
At the mention of that particular name, I think of the date at Spaglietti’s and Sophia Snodgrass-Schuster nosing into our business.
Sophia is a somewhat common name. I have no idea what she does other than gossip, but it couldn’t be her, could it?
I’ll take my chances because I don’t want to pass up this opportunity.
I’m still processing when I hang up a few minutes later with an appointment officially scheduled. This could really happen. I text Clark immediately.
Me: On a lark, I contacted the Main Street location for the Barkery and I’m meeting with them next week.
Clark: That’s amazing! Let me know when and I’ll see if I can make it.
I hesitate. In any other instance, I would be one hundred percent on board with this. However, if, by chance, the agent is Sophia Snodgrass-Schuster, perhaps it’s better if I go alone.
Me: You’re busy. I don’t want you to have to take the time.
Clark: Are you kidding? Unless I am literally on the ice, I wouldn’t miss it.
Clark: We should celebrate.
I’m a cautious, careful person. Not like Clark, who regularly comes home with new dogs, buys concert tickets on a whim for bands he’s never heard of, and once volunteered the team for a charity carwash without consulting anyone.
It was a success as evidenced by the parade of women lining up their SUVs around the block that day.
I don’t want to celebrate just yet, especially if, in order to secure the space, I have to contend with a certain town gossip.
Me: It’s not a done deal. Let’s get through Easter first.
Clark: In that case, fair warning: prepare yourself for lots of Easter candy. I’m talking jelly beans, Peeps, chocolate bunnies. All of it.
At that, I’d better start getting emotionally and physically ready to spend some solid time just the two of us and to visit his parents.
Ordinarily, this would be welcome. They’re delightful, unlike my own.
However, now, we’re fake dating and I am wildly unprepared and unwilling to deceive the Culpeppers.
If only I could find a user manual for how to fake date and not have it derail my entire life.
I switch to the Knights Wags chat and send an SOS.
Me: EMERGENCY. I’m visiting Clark’s parents this weekend. As his girlfriend. HELP.
The responses come rapid fire.
Ella: You’ve met them before, though?
Me: As his friend who returned his dog ten years ago. Not as his GIRLFRIEND.
Whit: Big difference.
Jess: Huge difference.
Margo: Okay, don’t panic. We can coach you through this with some dos and don’ts guidelines.
Heidi: Do: Compliment his mom’s cooking. Always.
Cara: Do: Offer to help in the kitchen. Even if she says no, the offer matters.
Whit: Do: Laugh at his dad’s jokes. Trust me on this.
Ella: Do: Be yourself. They already like you.
This is what I’d do anyway, so it’s no big deal, but I have a big don’t flashing in my head and it’s accompanied by the word lie as in don’t lie.
Me: But what about the fake dating thing? Do we tell them the truth?
The typing bubbles stage a riot.
Margo: That’s a good question.
Jess: Have you and Clark discussed this?
Me: No. I think we’ve been avoiding it.
Whit: Lying to his family in any instance is wrong, but in this situation, it also feels wrong.
Heidi: But telling them the truth means explaining the whole campaign situation.
Cara: And then they’ll know you’re both pretending to be in love when you’re actually ...
Ella: Already in love but too scared to admit it.
Me: NOT HELPING.
Margo: Okay, practical advice. Feel it out when you get there. If it seems right to tell them, tell them. If not, maybe it’s okay to keep up the act for a few days.
Jess: Whatever you do, make sure you and Clark are on the same page BEFORE you get there.
Whit: Nothing worse than getting your story mixed up in front of his parents.
Cara: Although that would be hilarious to watch.
Me: Again, NOT HELPING.
Ella: You’ll be fine. Just remember, his parents have loved you for years. That doesn’t change whether you’re his friend or his girlfriend.
Heidi: Real or fake girlfriend.
Ella: Right. That.
Margo: One more thing: Pack cute pajamas.
Me: Why would that matter?
Whit: Because you have to be cute!
Me: For his parents?
They send some laughing face emojis as if I should get this. Which I do. Belatedly. Oh. Cute for Clark.
Margo: Report back. We need to know how this plays out.
Me: You’re all terrible friends.
Whit: Terrible friends who give excellent advice.
Jess: And who will be waiting for updates.
Heidi: Lots of updates.
Cara: With pictures.
I throw my phone on the couch and gaze up at the ceiling. The dogs immediately sense my distress and pile on top of me in a furry group hug, which I really need right now.