Chapter 12 #2
“That’s different.” I watch in amusement as the tips of his ears redden. “I needed help with Gemma and Tim’s cat. We talked about medical things, not personal stuff.”
“If you want to get technical, that’s how it was at first, but we crossed the professional line a long time ago.” I laugh.
“Touché.”
“My turn. What’s one thing about Gemma and Frankie you think I should know?”
“Never place a bet or wager with either of them,” he deadpans.
I arch my eyebrow. “Dare I ask why?”
“They always win. No matter what.” His eyes crinkle. “I never learned my lesson. Those two got me into so much trouble with our stage manager.”
“What type of bets would you make?”
“It varied. Sometimes it might be something skating related, like who could do the cleanest double Axels or most triple toes in a row. Other times it might be something connected to clothing, like who could go the longest wearing an inflatable T-Rex costume without someone saying anything.”
“Please tell me somebody took pictures!” I giggle.
“I can neither confirm nor deny their existence,” he says with a straight face.
“Ha! That means there are some out there!” He zips his mouth closed and throws away the key. I shake my head.
Fernando and I continue to exchange questions.
By the end, I start to form a better image of his two best friends.
Frankie may be competitive, but is also fiercely loyal to her friends and family.
The entire reason she quit show skating was to move home and care for her elderly dad.
Gemma, on the other hand, is more laid back and soft spoken.
She’s the type of person who wears her heart on her sleeve.
“They both sound like amazing people. I hope I get the chance to know them a little better.” I think back to our short interaction at the antiques market a few weeks ago.
“You will. Trust me, it won’t take long for them to adopt you. Just don’t be too surprised if either of them tries to set us up, even though I’ve told them no many times before. Those two live for romance. Especially the show Cupid’s Arrow.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I locate a hair tie and pull my hair back into a ponytail. I’m excited to have something in common with them.
We stand and stretch. My feet still ache, but I’m not willing to let a little pain ruin spending the rest of the day in the town of Granada.
“We should take a few photos of us together in case your aunts end up wanting to see what we’ve been up to.”
“You’re right.”
We take a moment for some selfies. His long arms make it easy for us to fit more than our faces into the shot.
“What do you think we should say if they wonder why we only have photos of us together from the trip?” he asks, as we continue toward the parking lot.
“We could tell them a half-truth,” I suggest. “That our relationship is new, and we only decided to make things official recently. We can even use the story of you bringing the cat in to see me as our meet-cute.”
“I like it, except what’s a meet-cute?”
My lips twitch. “In romance books and movies, it’s the moment a couple has their first meeting, usually in some sort of adorable way.”
“I see.” He scratches his head. “I didn’t realize it had a name.”
“It does. Most romances follow the same formula. There’s a meet-cute. The fun-and-games slash getting-to-know-you stage. The climax. The dreaded third-act breakup. The makeup. And finally, the happily ever after. It’s why junkies like me keep coming back for more. We crave the predictability.”
“Is this something I should be taking mental notes on for our own story?”
“No. We’re not in a book or a movie.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “Your job is to focus on selling us to your family. Leave the details to me.”
“Phew.” He relaxes. “That’s good because memorizing things is not my forte.”
“I feel like there’s a story behind this.” I grin.
“There’s many stories.”
We arrive back at the car. He clicks the key fob.
“What’s the most recent blunder?”
He opens the door and pauses. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to make fun of me.”
“I won’t.” I hold up my hand. “Cross my heart.”
“I was asked to give the best man’s speech at my cousin’s wedding.”
“Uh-huh, and . . .?”
“I put it off until a week before the event. Even though I practiced, when it was my turn to stand and deliver, my mind went blank.”
“Did you have a paper copy of the speech or index cards you could use?”
“No.” He palms his forehead. “I was so confident I could do it without. I left them at home.”
“So how did the speech end up? What did you say?”
“I pulled a few song lyrics together from Taylor Swift and tried to pass them off as my own advice.”
“That’s actually pretty clever, but I can’t imagine people fell for it.” I shake with laughter.
“No, they didn’t. One of my biggest mistakes was telling Frankie about it. She wouldn’t stop singing or playing Swiftie songs every time we coached together. It was a miserable few weeks.”
“Remind me never to get on her bad side,” I muse, climbing into the car.
“Deal.”
As we back out of the parking lot and make our way toward the city center, I find myself feeling increasingly connected to the man sitting next to me.
Being in this fake relationship is going to be a piece of cake.
I won’t have to pretend very hard to be attracted to him or play off his personality. I almost wish I’d suggested it sooner.