Four
T HE FOLLOWING SATURDAY , I’m sitting in the sun on a sailboat as the breeze keeps flapping my hair around my face.
I pulled it back into my normal ponytail this morning as I was getting ready, and I normally get through the day with only a few stray strands slipping out of the elastic. But it’s a breezy day and even breezier here on the lake. About a third of my hair has pulled free and is flying around my face.
Finally I slide out the elastic to start again.
It’s a mistake. Now the entirety of my hair is whipping around like a mane so wildly I have trouble grabbing it all at the same time.
I manage to grip most of it and rush with the elastic. But the bottom section falls free anyway, so I lower my hands with a groan.
Dan has been messing with the lines—I’ve only sailed twice before in my life and have no idea how any of it works—but I catch him watching me with an amused smile twitching on his mouth.
“There’s no call to mock me for having a hair malfunction,” I tell him.
He laughs out loud. “I’m not mocking.”
“Uh-huh. Your hair is flying around too, but it’s so short you don’t notice it.”
“True.”
He watches as, with new determination, I tackle my hair one more time and finally manage to pull it into a ponytail.
I can’t testify to the neatness of the hairdo, but at least it’s restrained and out of my face.
“There,” I say. “How is it?”
His eyes focus on my hair and then shift back to my face. His expression is still that warm, relaxed, amused one that I can’t help but like. “Well, it’s pulled back.”
With a gasp, I feel my hair to check how bumpy it is against my scalp. It doesn’t feel too bad. “Are you teasing me?”
He chuckles again. “As if I would do that.”
“I think you would do that a lot.”
“Well, it’s hard to resist the temptation. You always take me seriously.”
That surprises me enough to shift my focus. “Why wouldn’t I take you seriously?”
He shrugs and glances away, back toward the sails which appear to be positioned and functioning perfectly. “I don’t know. Most people don’t.”
I think about that for a full minute before I answer. “Well, that might be partly your own fault.”
“Why is that?” He moves his eyes back to my face with a strange tension on his face. It’s like he’s trying to hold on to his normal teasing nonchalance but is actually invested in what I’m saying.
“I don’t know. I’m just wondering if you act like nothing ever bothers you or riles you up or makes you sad so that people believe it’s actually true about you.”
He glances away, reflecting for a few seconds before he meets my gaze again. “And you don’t believe that?”
I shrug. “Well, no. I don’t think anyone is really like that, but I definitely don’t think you are.”
“Why not?”
He’s genuinely asking, so I answer him honestly. “You get up early and start working long before your office hours begin. You had a very organized plan in mind for our fake relationship even before we began talking about it. You didn’t wait around for things to happen or for you to organically find someone you want to marry. You purposefully and committedly made it happen even though you’re not desperate for money. You aren’t really a laid-back, go-with-the-flow guy. You’ve just put on that pose for the world. But you can’t be surprised that people actually buy into it and so don’t take you seriously.”
My words clearly take him aback. He blinks a couple of times and turns his head to stare out at the water. His shoulders are visibly stiff.
“That wasn’t an insult,” I say after a minute, my stomach clenching in concern. “I’m not criticizing you. I was just trying to explain.”
“I know. I’m not insulted.” He gives me a flicker of a smile. “I’m just thinking about it. Wondering if you’re right.”
“Oh. Okay.” After a minute, I add, “I think I am right.”
“Of course you are.”
I hesitate briefly before I decide to go for it. “Why would you always act so laid-back and unconcerned about everything if you aren’t actually like that?”
“I don’t know.” His forehead wrinkles as he thinks. “I never had many friends when I was a little kid. Like in elementary school. I cared too much about school and was overly earnest and had a tendency to boss the other kids around, and naturally no one liked that. They made fun of me. So when we moved to Green Valley in middle school, I decided to change.”
I’m fascinated by the confession and am listening wide-eyed. “Seriously? You just decided?”
“Yeah. I think so. I was smart enough to realize what the problem was by then. And I was moving to a place where no one knew me in any way, so I could be anyone I wanted to be. So I was going to be one of the cool kids instead of the nerdy kids. So...” He shakes his head. “So that’s what I did. Then it became a habit. Then it became who I am.”
“But it didn’t. Not really. You’re still the same nerdy, hardworking, earnest boy you used to be. You’ve just hidden him beneath the mask of the laid-back guy who doesn’t care about anything. But the mask works. It keeps people out. So everyone likes you but no one really knows you. Of course they don’t take you seriously. You’re not being serious with them.”
“Ouch.”
“I told you it wasn’t an insult.”
“It feels like a slap in the face anyway.” His shoulders are still stiff, and so is his expression. I’ve never seen him without his easy smile.
“You asked! I wouldn’t have said anything about it, but you asked.”
“I know I did.” He shakes his head and gives me a faint smile. “I’m not being defensive here. You’re right. Entirely right. But it makes me feel...”
I lean forward. Reach out to touch his knee over his casual tan trousers. “Most people do things like that. We shape the person we want to show to the world and hide the parts of us that are most vulnerable. You’re not weird or deceptive or some kind of oddball, Dan. You’re just like everyone else. But you’re smarter and more competent than a lot of people, so your act has been more effective than some other people’s.”
That makes him laugh. It huffs out of him, raw and throaty, and then he gently touches my hand on his knee. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“No, I’m not. I think it’s true.”
Our gazes lock for an uncomfortably long time. “What about you?” he asks at last, low and slightly thick.
“What about me?”
“What act do you put on to hide the vulnerable parts of yourself from the world?”
I lick my lips as I think this through. I want to answer him honestly. It feels like it’s only fair. “I... I like to act like I’m completely self-sufficient. Unfazed by anything. Not because I’m trying to hide but because I honestly want to be that way. But I don’t know if I really am. Parts of me still feel... needy. Even though I don’t want to be.”
He picks up my hand. Turns it and squeezes it with his warm fingers. “You don’t act needy.”
“Yeah. That’s my point. I don’t want to be.”
“Maybe all of us are a little needy.”
“Maybe.” I gulp. He’s leaned over slightly, and his eyes never leave my face. I swear he’s about to kiss me.
And I want it.
I want it so much.
I’ve never felt more needy than I do at this exact moment.
My hands are shaking slightly, and I know he’ll feel it. My cheeks flush hot, and I know he’ll see it. My breath is coming out in soft pants.
With his free hand, he cups my cheek. “Vicky.”
“Y-yes?”
“Can I check something?”
I blink. “Check... something?”
“Yes.” He leans farther and eases me closer at the same time until our lips are pressing against each other in a soft kiss.
The delicious tingling of nerve endings makes me gasp. I lean into the kiss automatically, and he holds my head still with both hands so he can lengthen the kiss.
He doesn’t push it deeper. Just the lightest glancing of lips against lips. Then he settles his mouth around my lower lip and gives it a gentle tug that fills me with a rush of pleasure.
It feels so good, and I want it so much. Want even more.
Need more.
And it’s terrifying.
I withdraw quickly, straightening up and turning my head away so I can catch my breath and collect my scattered control.
Dan pulls back too.
A few quick looks at his face show that he’s just as affected as I am by the brief kiss. He looks bemused. Bewildered. And disappointed.
I rub my face. “I’m sorry. I just... don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Okay,” he says almost immediately, giving himself a subtle shake.
I know what he’s going to do next. The real Dan is going to disappear beneath the nonchalant pose, and it’s entirely my fault for rejecting him.
The real him.
He does exactly what I expect him to. Laughs in his characteristic dry, relaxed manner. “You’re right. We should be smart about this. No getting distracted by that kind of thing.”
He’s trying to smooth over the moment, bring us back to the easy, companionable relationship we had before.
But it feels terrible somehow. Everything feels terrible.
Because it’s the mask again and not the real man.
***
T HE FOLLOWING DAY IS a Sunday, a day I normally get off from work. But the weekend person had plans today, and I offered to help out—mostly so I can get paid overtime.
I’m busy all day, and my last stop at about seven is to feed and let out a couple of dogs whose owners are out of town. Normally this would be fine, but Dan wants me to go to a friend’s birthday party this evening, so I have to rush back to get ready for the party right afterward.
I feel bad for the dogs since they aren’t used to being left alone for so long. Instead of speeding through the tasks, I stay a little longer to let them run a few extra laps around the backyard and get a little more attention. So by the time I arrive back home, Dan is already there, waiting for me.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I burst in and see him sitting at the kitchen table and chatting with Jim and Esther, who have clearly just finished their dinner. “The dogs were clingy, and I’m a big pushover.”
Dan laughs, appearing supremely unconcerned. “No big deal.”
“I still have to get ready, but I’ll be as quick as I can. I hate making other people late!”
“It’s a party. No one is going to care that we’re late. Everyone always comes at different times anyway.”
I know that is true about those kinds of casual parties, and normally it’s not like I’d arrive right on time myself. But I always feel bad when other people are left waiting for me, and I still feel awkward around Dan after yesterday.
I’m flustered and self-conscious as I run upstairs, strip out of my clothes, and jump into the shower for about four minutes so I can soap up and rinse off so I don’t smell so much like dog. I’ve already planned my outfit, and it should work fine with what Dan is wearing—jeans and an untucked gray button-up shirt. I pull on dark stretchy jeans and a sleeveless dark green top that looks relatively casual but also like I made an effort.
After doing some quick makeup and brushing out my hair and leaving it loose, I hurry back downstairs.
“Nine minutes,” Dan says, smiling as he looks at his watch. “Very impressive. And you look great.”
I glance down at myself, pleased by the compliment to both my appearance and the speed of my dressing. “Thanks. I assume people aren’t going to dress up too much for this party.”
“No. You look perfect.” His eyes run up and down my body before shifting them purposefully up to my face. “Thanks for going with me.”
“Of course.” I turn to smile at Jim and Esther, who are observing our interaction with silent amusement. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be back, so I’ll see y’all in the morning.”
“Have fun, Vicky. Don’t drink too much.” Esther smiles to prove her last comment is teasing.
I know she’s teasing. I had one embarrassing drunken incident when my mom and I were visiting them when I was in high school, and she’s never let me forget it. She knows perfectly well I’m not much of a drinker, and she wouldn’t lecture me about it anyway.
When Dan and I leave the house, he asks, “Why doesn’t she want you to drink? I’m the one driving, so you can drink what you want.”
“She’s just joking. I almost never drink more than a glass or two at the most. I don’t actually enjoy being tipsy like some people do.”
He gives me a curious look as he opens his car door for me. “Why not?”
“Because I like my inhibitions. They keep me from making a fool of myself.”
That makes Dan chuckle, as I intended. And drop the subject.
Which I also intended.
On our way there, I say, “So tell me about whoever’s birthday party this is.”
“Carlton Hill. He’s the guy who works with Lance.”
“Oh yeah. Not the Magnusson twin but the grumpy guy with the beard.”
“Yes. He’s with Joey. You’ve seen her around the coffee shop. She’s real friendly and outgoing.”
“Oh yeah. I remember Joey. So she and Carlton are a couple. And it’s his birthday.”
“Right. Jules will be there with her husband, Rafe. Julianna. You saw her the other day at the coffee shop. And Paige and Chase are supposed to be there. So you should know at least a few people. Joey knows and likes everyone, so there’s no telling how many people she invited.”
“Carlton doesn’t seem like a big-party kind of person.”
“He’s not. He used to be incredibly antisocial, but he’s a little better than he used to be. Joey might have kept the party smaller since it’s his birthday. But you don’t have to worry even if there are a lot of people you don’t know. I won’t leave you stranded.”
“I appreciate that. Nothing is worse than being stranded at a party with a bunch of strangers while your date is off having fun with friends.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to do that to you.” He pauses, his expression changing very slightly. “After all, we’re supposed to be pretending to be in love.”
I swallow hard. “Exactly. Do you...? Won’t everyone know that you’re just marrying me to get your trust fund?”
“What?”
“Well, they know about the conditions of the trust, right? Won’t they all just assume that’s why we get married?”
He shifts slightly, focusing on the road in front of him. We’re making our way to a more affluent residential neighborhood, which is evidently where Joey and Carlton live. “Not necessarily.”
The conversation is embarrassing me for some reason, so I just say, “Oh. Okay.”
“I’m trying to act like I’m really into you,” he adds. “The plan is to make people think we’re in love.”
“I know. But I just figured, if your friends know you, they might put the pieces together.”
“So you don’t want to act like we’re really together with them?” He shoots me a quick look.
“No, no. I mean, it’s all fine. We’ll go through with the original plan and pretend we’re in love. I was just... wondering.”
Fortunately, Dan doesn’t pursue the conversation further, and it’s only a few minutes later that we’re parking there.
***
T HERE ARE ONLY SIX other cars in front of the house, which is a relief. It’s not a very big party, and the comfortable, attractive living room isn’t particularly crowded when Dan and I walk in.
I’m nervous and a bit self-conscious, as I always am in new social situations, but everyone greets us warmly, and Paige comes over right away to chat, keeping me occupied while Dan goes to get us drinks and a plate of snacks.
Conversation is mostly light and casual, but Paige does ask me at one point, “So things are going well with Dan?”
I shrug and smile shyly, hoping I look convincing as a woman who’s falling in love. “I think so.”
“Good. He’s a great guy.”
That’s what everyone says.
When Dan returns, we join a larger conversation, and I relax since the number of people isn’t overwhelming and everyone is particularly friendly. After a while, Joey announces that we’re going to play a couple of party games since Carlton doesn’t like parties that are nothing but small talk.
That’s even better because it gives us something very definite to do rather than hang around and mingle.
Soon I’m actually having a good time and even have a second glass of wine. Dan and I are sitting on a love seat together, and he’s got an arm around me, so we look like a couple. It’s nothing inappropriately intimate, but it makes me feel fluttery and excited anyway.
After a while, someone new arrives who I’ve never met before. There aren’t any empty chairs, but Dan pulls me over onto his lap so the newcomer can have the other half of the love seat.
The gesture still feels casual. Laid-back rather than romantic or sexual. But it startles me. I’m not used to sitting on anyone’s lap. I don’t know exactly how to arrange my hands and feet, and Dan’s got one arm possessively around my middle.
“Try not to act so stiff,” he murmurs, tilting my head down so he can say it into my ear. “People are going to assume you don’t even like me.”
I gulp and do my best to relax, leaning back against him and adjusting the placement of my butt so I’m more comfortable physically.
But I’m not comfortable mentally. It feels like my head is a rush of chaotic feelings and sensations. And I can’t help but be acutely conscious of Dan’s lean, firm, warm body beneath mine. His strong arm around me. His other hand occasionally playing with the ends of my hair. The feel of his laughter and the texture of his voice.
If we were really a couple, I’d love it. All of it. But none of it is real.
So I love it and hate it both, and the conflict flurries inside me until it genuinely feels like I might explode.
When the game is over—it was a relaxed wordplay game that I wasn’t too terrible at—it’s time for cake and to open presents. Everyone rearranges their positions, so I can finally get off Dan’s lap.
Hopefully no one else saw how nervous and giddy the whole thing made me.
But I unfortunately suspect that Dan might have noticed.
Nothing I can do about that.
***
I T’S WELL AFTER MIDNIGHT when we’re finally on our way home. I’m still feeling uptight and self-conscious about the whole situation, but I’m trying not to show it.
I’m getting a hundred thousand dollars for this. The least I can do is manage to do a decent job acting like I’m in love.
Dan isn’t saying much, so I’m worried he’s disappointed in my performance. When he puts the car into park in the driveway of Jim and Esther’s town house, I finally burst out, “I’m sorry I was stiff!”
He turns his head with a confused frown. “What?”
“I’m sorry if I was kind of stiff earlier. When we were acting like a couple. I’m doing my best, but I don’t think I’m a very good actress.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Maybe I should have asked first before I pulled you into my lap. I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s my fault. Not yours. We agreed to act like a couple, so that’s what I should have done. I’m not sure why it made me so nervous, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”
His expression relaxes. “Okay. I’m glad you didn’t think I overdid it. I thought it was fine. No one else probably noticed you were all jittery.”
“Jittery? You thought I was jittery?” My eyes get big and round.
He chuckles. “Well, yeah. You were definitely jittery.”
“I wasn’t that bad!”
“Okay.” His mouth twitches. “If you say so.”
“I’m just not used to this sort of thing. I thought it was going fine, but then... then... after yesterday...”
He sighs. “I know. I get it. I misread the moment yesterday, and I’m sorry about that. It’s not going to happen again.”
I should feel better at his reassurance, but I don’t. I don’t like the way he says it. And I don’t like the resignation I can see on his face. In a rush to somehow fix it, I start babbling. “It’s not that I didn’t like it. The kiss, I mean. I just think it’s safer to stick to us being... being professional. Like this is a job. Things get messy when the lines get blurry, so I just think it’s—”
“I know exactly what you mean, Vicky. And I agree. It’s cleaner and safer to keep our boundaries clear. And it’s fine to feel weird about how we interact sometimes. I’m sure anyone else in our positions would too.”
I blow out a breath, relieved he sounds more like himself. “Okay. Then we’ll... we’ll just keep doing our best and go forward with the plan.”
“Yes. Oh.” With a small twitch, he reaches into the console compartment between the seats and pulls out a small jeweler’s box. “According to our plan, it’s time for us to get engaged, so I got you this.”
I stare at the box. Then stare at the ring when he opens it.
It’s lovely. Sleek and simple with a modern setting and a beautiful emerald-cut diamond.
“Oh.” I gulp. “Wow.”
“It’s a lab-made diamond. I’m not trying to be cheap, but you’ve got such a soft heart and such clear ethical views, I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with thinking it might be some kind of blood diamond.”
I lick my lips. “No. I wouldn’t want that. This is... this is perfect.”
“Okay.” He lets out a breath, as if he’d been holding it. “Good then.”
We both wait, staring down at the ring.
“So do you want...?” He trails off, finally grabbing the ring and then my left hand and quickly sliding it onto the ring finger.
We both stare at the ring again, this time on my hand.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
“Good.”
“Good.”
Neither one of us seems to know what to say. I can barely get even a word out.
Then Dan finally says, “Well, okay then. So we’re engaged now. We can start sharing the news with people we run into.”
“That makes sense. It’s all going according to schedule.”
It is. It’s a premade schedule for a practical scheme that’s entirely based on money.
So there’s no reason for me to feel as fluttery as I do. Or to love the feel of Dan’s diamond on my finger.
No reason at all.