2. Caius #3
"It's a wedding. You need a plus one. I'm available." I'm playing it casual, like this isn't the worst and best idea I've had in years. "Unless you'd rather go alone and watch Kyle parade around with his Italian model."
Her nose scrunches up, and it's so damn cute I have to look away. "You'd really do that?"
"Yeah." I would. I'd do a lot worse for her, but she doesn't need to know that. "What are friends for?"
"We're friends?"
The question hits harder than it should. "Aren't we?"
She's quiet for a moment, studying me with those wide eyes that see too much. "I guess we are."
"Then it's settled. I'll be your date, you'll make Kyle regret every decision he's ever made, and we both win."
"What do you get out of this?"
Everything. A night with you on my arm. An excuse to touch you. A chance to pretend, just for a few hours, that this is real.
"Free cake," I say instead. "And the satisfaction of watching Kyle squirm."
She laughs, and the sound is lighter this time, less weighed down by sadness. "Okay. Deal."
I extend my hand across the table, grease still faintly visible under my fingernails despite the shower. "Partners in crime?"
She hesitates, then slides her hand into mine. Her palm is soft, warm, and the touch sends electricity straight up my arm. "Partners in crime."
We shake on it, and I'm about to pull away when another thought hits me. Dangerous. Reckless. Exactly the kind of idea that's going to get me in trouble.
"Actually," I say, keeping her hand in mine, "I might need a favor in return."
"What kind of favor?"
"My mother is trying to set me up with every single woman in a fifty-mile radius. She's relentless. She wants me 'settled' before her sixtieth birthday next month, and she's not taking no for an answer."
Hallie's lips twitch. "That's kind of sweet."
"It's a nightmare. I've had three blind dates this week alone. I need it to stop."
"So what do you want me to do about it?"
I lean forward, dropping my voice low enough that she has to lean in to hear me over the noise of the bar. "Come to Sunday dinner. Tell my Ma you're madly in love with me. Be my fake girlfriend for a few weeks until she backs off."
Her eyes go wide. "You're insane."
"Maybe. But you need a date for the wedding, and I need my mother to stop ambushing me with casseroles and matrimonial candidates. We help each other out."
"That's not the same thing. A wedding date is one night. Meeting your mother is..."
"Terrifying?"
"Complicated."
"It's just dinner. You meet Ma, you tell her we're together, she leaves me alone, and we both get what we need." I'm still holding her hand, and I give it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, Hal. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Your mother could actually like me and then be devastated when we 'break up.'"
"My mother likes everyone. She'll get over it."
"Ryan could find out and kill you."
"Ryan's not going to find out. We're careful, we keep it low-key, and in a few weeks, we quietly 'realize we're better as friends' and move on. No one gets hurt."
She's wavering. I can see it in the way she bites her lower lip, the way her fingers tighten around mine. "This is a terrible idea."
"Probably." I flash her my most charming grin, the one that usually gets me out of trouble. "But we're doing it anyway."
She shakes her head slowly, and I can practically see the internal debate playing out behind those hazel eyes.
Her teeth worry at that bottom lip again, a nervous habit I've catalogued over the years along with all her other tells.
"We're going to regret this. You know that, right?
This is going to blow up spectacularly in our faces. "
"Maybe," I concede, though I'm still grinning like an idiot because she hasn't actually said no.
She's arguing about the potential fallout, which means she's already halfway to yes.
I know Hallie well enough to recognize when she's trying to talk herself out of something she actually wants to do.
"Or maybe it'll work out perfectly and we'll both walk away with exactly what we need. No harm, no foul."
She breathes, her shoulders dropping in what might be resignation or acceptance, with Hallie, it's sometimes hard to tell the difference. "When's dinner?"
Victory tastes like cheap beer and bad decisions, and I'm here for all of it. "Sunday. Five o'clock."
She pulls her hand back, and I immediately miss the warmth of it. "Fine. But you owe me."
"I'll be the best wedding date you've ever had."
"You'll be the only wedding date I've ever had."
"Even better. Low bar." I raise my beer bottle in a toast. "To mutually beneficial fake relationships?"
She picks up her terrible margarita, still grimacing at the taste. "To mutually beneficial fake relationships."
We clink glass against glass, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like common sense is screaming that this is the worst idea I've ever had.
I ignore it.
Because Hallie Miller just agreed to be my fake girlfriend, and for the next few weeks, I get to pretend that the girl I've been in love with for years is actually mine.
What could possibly go wrong?