Float My Boat

8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

M y phone vibrated in my clutch as I waited in the parking lot for Andrew to pick me up, nervously excited in a floaty green dress I’d bought especially for the occasion. I fished out the phone and rolled my eyes when I read the message.

Theo 10:38: Andrew is a liar.

I sneered at the screen, then angry-typed.

Miri 10:38: You’re the liar.

Theo 10:39: [crying laughy face] You’re going to his party … you’ll see.

I didn’t reply, but he sent me another one thirty seconds later.

Theo 10:40: Come find me when you know.

I shoved my phone back into my bag and tried my best to forget all about Theo. Andrew wasn’t a liar … at least, not usually. Our fake dating was a special case. He was dependable and trustworthy and sometimes a little scary, but entirely dedicated. To the club, his crew, his family, and apparently his job, too, if he cared so much about what people thought he was willing to bring a fake date to their annual party.

A black truck pulled into the parking lot, and my mouth dropped open when I realized it was Andrew behind the wheel.

‘What the fuck is this?’ I demanded as I yanked open the passenger door. ‘Did you buy a new truck?’ My words were light and jokey, but underneath, my heart fell a little. He’d said he felt guilty about his gas-guzzling ways.

Andrew grinned. ‘Like it?’

‘I …’ I faltered. He’d seemed sheepish about his last truck, but now he was almost proud of himself.

‘It’s electric!’ he exclaimed as I climbed in and slammed the door behind me. It made a pleasingly deep thunk . Andrew started gushing about the truck’s many advanced features, but I didn’t hear the individual words, too distracted by how good he looked in his shirt and chinos, how, over the smell of new car, I caught notes of his musky scent, and how his whole face lit up when he smiled.

Then he was looking at me expectantly, as though he might have asked me a question. ‘Uh … it’s … Wow, Andrew!’

It seemed to be an appropriate response because he beamed, then spun the truck and got us on the road.

‘I’ve been thinking of doing it for a while, but then I was driving past the showroom, and, well … here we are.’ He looked a little guilty, perhaps because he’d just admitted to buying a truck on a whim, but I couldn’t help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm. And data science was lucrative, apparently.

‘So,’ I said, no desire to discuss four wheeled objects for the entire journey, ‘tell me more about this party. Actually, no, tell me why you need a fake date for this party; that’s what I really want to know.’ I flashed my eyes, and Andrew shook his head indulgently, tapping the steering wheel with his thumb a few times as we waited at a junction.

Part of me wondered if he would refuse to tell me, the silence stretching beyond the point of comfort, his features contemplative, but as we drove on, he said, ‘I realized you’d never met my family.’

I barked a laugh. ‘This is a work party though, right?’

He nodded slowly. ‘Sort of. Work and family are pretty much the same thing for me.’

I felt like I was missing something, something big, and unease undulated through me. He made it sound almost like he was a drugs baron!

‘I want to show you.’

‘Show me what?’ I asked, my eyebrows raising a little.

Another long silence followed, and I wanted to shake the answer out of him. ‘The other side of my life. The side I keep private.’

My mind went blank. What the hell did that mean? But I’d run out of time to ask because we turned onto a long, tree-lined drive, where all the way to the grand, Georgian house at the top, flags sporting the same DrewDox logo that adorned our boats fluttered in the breeze.

He pulled right up to the generous turning circle by the front door, waited for me to jump down and walk around to his side, then handed his keys to a valet.

He put his hand on my lower back, guiding me to the top of the flag-lined entrance steps where a dark-haired woman with a severe bob in a black linen jumpsuit waited, a broad smile on her ruby red lips.

‘Andrew!’ She wrapped him in an energetic hug, then pinned me with intense energy. ‘And you must be Miri! It’s so nice to finally meet you.’ She pulled me in for a tight squeeze. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

‘This is my sister, Dorothy,’ said Andrew, when the woman finally released me.

She waved a dismissive hand. ‘Call me Dox, everyone does.’

‘As in the boat?’ I blurted. ‘And the … company?’ I added as an afterthought.

She faltered, her eyes flicking to her big, silent brother, then back to me. ‘Sure, like the boat.’ She handed Andrew a badge that said, Chief Data Scientist , and I realized she had a badge on, too, one which read, CEO .

‘Wait, this is your company?’ My gaze swung to Andrew, but his expression was unreadable as he watched my reaction.

Dox let out a tinkling laugh, higher and brighter than I’d expected. ‘It’s Andrew’s company; I just run the place. He got the techy brains, I got the organizational ones. Works like a charm, actually.’

Before I could question her further, she raised an eyebrow at her brother, then spun and headed deeper into the beautiful old building. I glanced up at Andrew, silently asking for an explanation, but he just shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal, then snagged my hand and pulled me after her, my mind reeling.

What was this? Andrew owned a company? He owned a company that made the kind of money where he could sponsor boats and hold swanky parties in big country houses? What the fuck? My heart raced as I followed numbly, not really noticing where we were headed until we came out in a large reception room filled with people, and every single one of them turned to look at us. Or more accurately, at me.

Their eyes raked me up and down, no doubt wondering who I was and what I was to Andrew.

‘Hey, boss!’ called a young guy with an elaborate pink drink in his hand from across the room.

‘Hey, Pete,’ Andrew called back, then said in a low voice to Dox, ‘there are curly freaking straws?’

She squealed. ‘Aren’t they divine?’

Andrew rolled his eyes, while I felt like I’d been dropped into another dimension, only then realizing there were kitsch decorations all over the place, from flamingo sculptures to sparkly pineapples. Dox leaned towards me and laughed in the same tinkling way. ‘Andrew hates shit like this.’ She waved her arm around triumphantly, motioning to the many and varied questionable decorations.

‘And yet she does it anyway …’ said Andrew, in a resigned tone.

‘That’s the reason why I do it, brother.’

‘Will you ever grow up?’

She gave a shrug, then flitted off to the bar, leaving us alone. But not for long because a crowd descended, introducing themselves and asking an endless stream of questions. I barely heard any of it, completely disoriented because none of this made any sense. I mean, I knew Andrew was successful and intelligent and that everyone else thought he was scary in a boss-man kinda way, but he’d never been like that with me . Why hadn’t he told me? Why hadn’t he told anyone?

‘Drink?’ Andrew asked, leaning close, and I nodded, then followed him to the bar. Alcohol was a marvelous idea. The very best. I ordered a cocktail aptly named Oh My God, I Can’t Believe It , and waited patiently for my drink as Andrew was pulled into a conversation with a short, grey-haired man and a tall, beautiful Spanish woman who was unashamedly batting her eyelashes at him.

From what I could hear, they were talking about something technical. Something to do with algorithms and databases and clouds. Something I couldn’t contribute to, but that Miss Spain was enthusiastically gesticulating about. Maybe she was why Andrew wanted me here … to make her jealous.

An older woman with a matronly air stepped up beside me. ‘She’s a marvel, isn’t she?’

‘Um … sorry?’ I turned my confused expression on her.

‘Sophia? Legs like a gazelle, hair to die for, and a brain like a … oh I don’t know. A computer? That doesn’t sound right though, does it? And,’ she leaned in close and whispered, ‘she’s a princess … or something like that, I forget the specifics.’ She looked wistfully over at the woman and sighed. ‘But if she can’t bag him with a figure like that, what hope is there for the rest of you?’ She laughed, and I smiled weakly, not wanting to be rude. ‘And believe me, she’s tried!’

Andrew thankfully chose that moment to return, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his side. I slid gratefully into the warm, comforting space and wrapped my arm around him, too, fitting perfectly under his arm. He kissed my temple, the brush of his lips sending an electric shiver down my spine, and the older woman’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh …’ Her eyes flicked to my lower half, then ran back up to my face. ‘Um …’

The bartender handed me my drink, and the woman made her excuses, presumably off to spread the news that by some miracle a woman with actual thighs had bagged their most eligible bachelor. If only she knew the truth … that would really give her something to gossip about.

I downed half my drink as the bartender handed Andrew a crystal tumbler filled with gin and tonic garnished with cucumber, and then I headed for the back of the room, not waiting to see if he was following because curious eyes were already tracking me, and I hated it. I wished to be anonymous, to blend in, especially because I didn’t fit in here, and the whole room knew it just as well as I did.

‘Miri …’ said Andrew, catching up with me in the clear space at the back of the room, a mere ten paces from the door. I took a breath, then turned and plastered a bright smile on my face. ‘Is everything okay?’ he asked in a gentle, soothing tone, stepping into my space so I had to tilt my head to look up at him.

‘I … uh …’ No! Everything is not freaking okay! You own a company! This is your party. You’re a celebrity to these people.

Dox took to the temporary stage at the front of the room, and as the crowd shifted their attention to her, I exhaled in relief, letting Andrew’s green, green eyes ground me. It was curious how they could do that, especially when all my brain wanted to know was, ‘Why, Andrew? Why did you never tell me?’ Why did you never tell anyone? Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you warn me?

Dox’s voice filled the room, talking about numbers and projections and a big deal they had in the works, and then, before he’d answered my question, she introduced Andrew, who kissed me on the temple and murmured, ‘Two ticks,’ then squeezed my arm before heading to the stage.

I shrank back, feeling vulnerable without him in this room full of strangers, feeling entirely like a fish out of water. I wasn’t a social beast, which people often found strange, given I ran a café and bar, but there, I always had an excuse to leave an awkward conversation, and I was removed, on the other side of a literal barrier most of the time, where everyone—or at least most people—understood the social contract. It was simple and straightforward and easy. Practical. Never with long stretches where I had to converse with people I had nothing in common with. Even at the bar, I always had an office to escape to. But this, here …

My back hit the wall, and I exhaled long and hard, giving myself a pep talk as Andrew began his speech. This was fine. I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I didn’t have to do anything other than listen to Andrew. And breathe. I should probably keep doing that. This was not a crisis situation, and now I was at the back, no one could even look at me. In fact, I could look at them, just like a crew with the upper hand in a race.

But there wasn’t much to see, other than a sea of adoring faces turned on Andrew, hanging off his every self-depreciating joke, some of them even issuing little sighs as he thanked them for their hard work.

And then it hit me. Properly. Andrew had built this. This whole company. And no one at the club knew anything about it. It was utterly, completely amazing. It made my businesses look like craft club at the library in comparison, but why didn’t he want anyone to know? The thought sent a flutter of panic through me.

‘And finally, I want to thank my very special guest. Someone who’s inspired me since the beginning,’ said Andrew in a warm, low tone, the words only registering because he was looking right at me. Into me. A slight line of concern on his brow, perhaps because I was pressed up against the back wall like I was facing a firing squad. ‘Her work ethic, persistence, and determination make me and Dox look like slackers.’ The crowd chuckled, a few of them following his gaze, glancing at me. ‘And if she hadn’t set the bar so high, if she hadn’t been so focused yet good-humored about all the challenges she faced, I wouldn’t have had to work so hard to keep up!’ Another laugh. Andrew lifted his tumbler. ‘To Miri, my endless inspiration.’

I felt more than saw the skeptical eyes turn on me, asking if it could possibly be true that I had inspired him.

Of course it wasn’t true. It was fake! All of this was. Why he’d said those things, I couldn’t even begin to imagine. Although, it was the first time anyone had publicly celebrated my business successes, which was nice, objectively speaking. My national rowing titles were the only achievements anyone usually cared about, and he hadn’t mentioned my rowing prowess once.

‘To Miri!’ the crowd echoed, lifting their own glasses, and I wanted the wall to open up and swallow me whole, so many faces now turned my way.

My eyes flitted back and forth across the room, my weak smile fixed and plastic, my chest strangely tight. Andrew jumped down from the stage and made a beeline for me, brushing off everyone who tried to intercept him. He snagged my hand and peeled me off the wall, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked, leaning close.

Without the wall holding me up, I realized how not okay I was. And now he was here, practically everyone was looking at us, or at least, that’s what it felt like. I could feel them scrutinizing me with judgmental eyes. Wondering what we were to each other. Wondering if I’d truly bagged their boss … impossible, surely, given my legs were probably as un-gazelle-like as legs could be, nor was I a genius data scientist.

I couldn’t breathe. Too many eyes. Too much scrutiny. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything. I looked up at him with what I was sure was my best rabbit-in-headlights expression, willing my lungs to work, vaguely wondering if I might pass out there and then. Would he catch me? Or would I hit the floor, my dress flying up, displaying my underwear to the room. What underwear did I even have on? Either way, it would be embarrassing.

‘Shit,’ he breathed, then tugged me away from the prying eyes and into a smaller side room that was blissfully devoid of life, but I didn’t have enough breath. I barely had time to notice the open floor-to-ceiling windows and the billowing fabric being buffeted by the breeze before my head started rushing, blackness collecting at the edges of my vision, my chest crying out for air. I crouched, my legs buckling, standing apparently too difficult, too disorienting.

‘Miri …’ he crouched at my side, his hand rubbing circles on my back, but my chest was so tight … terrifyingly tight. Like, call an ambulance, I think there’s something seriously wrong tight.

‘Andrew,’ I gasped, grabbing hold of his hands.

‘It’s okay, Miri. It’s a panic attack,’ he said in a quiet but commanding voice.

A panic attack? A what? I’d never had a panic attack. Was this really what one felt like? This was what I imagined a heart attack to feel like, my chest locked, everything sort of tingling and constricted, like a snake had wrapped around my ribs and was squeezing me from the inside out.

‘Andrew,’ I spluttered again, gripping his hands with everything I had. ‘I don’t … I …’

‘It’s okay, M. It’s just us, just you and me, and we can stay in here for as long as you need. All day if you want. Just try to breathe. To relax.’

A panic attack. Okay. This was okay. I wasn’t going to die, even though it felt like it. The tight feeling lessened a little, and I managed to get a bit of air in. It would be okay. It would. I wasn’t going to pass out from oxygen starvation. I could breathe. I could do this. I did this every day!

Andrew’s soothing, calming words continued, anchoring me, and so did his stroking, until eventually I’d got a hold of myself enough that he led me to a padded bench by the window. We sat side by side, Andrew rubbing my back as I leaned forward, my head between my legs, and I found I was crying, big, fat, silent drops falling from my eyes, marring my dress as they fell near the hem.

My mascara had probably run halfway down my face by now. I probably resembled a wayward teenager after a long night of sweaty dancing on a slightly sticky dancefloor. Nothing Andrew hadn’t seen on me before, but still, it was mortifying considering this was his company’s annual party, and I was his fake special guest.

I felt like a fool and a failure, and embarrassment crept in as the panic receded. I had to get it together, to buck up, to get back out there and be the best fake date I could be. I wiped at the tears, then lifted my head, refusing to look at Andrew as I searched hopefully for tissues.

‘Here,’ he said, snagging a box from the sideboard behind him and handing it to me.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered, grabbing a handful and using them to mop up the fresh river of tears. Damn it.

‘No, Miri, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I thought … I wanted …’ He looked away, as though the enormous mirror over the fireplace might contain answers.

What? What had he thought? What had he wanted? I was filled with a deep desperation to know.

He shook his head slowly. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you; that’s the last thing I wanted.’

‘Why?’

He turned wide, alarmed eyes on me.

‘Why did you lie about DrewDox? Why didn’t you tell me this is your company?’ Is this what Theo had meant?

He shook his head again, this time a little frantically. ‘It’s not like that!’

‘It is like that!’

‘It’s not … I’m not … I’m just the data scientist.’

‘Andrew …’ My tone was harsher than I’d intended, but he was downplaying a massive achievement. Did that mean my company was a joke to him? If all he’d built wasn’t worth telling anyone about, then what did that make my businesses? My life?

‘Dox runs the company, and I … I’m good at what I do. That’s all that matters to me.’

I didn’t understand, not one bit. ‘Then why did you get up on stage and make a speech? Why did you say all that stuff about me?’

He faltered. ‘That you inspire me?’

‘Yes,’ I breathed, my heart stuttering, hoping for something it shouldn’t.

‘Because it’s true,’ he said in a quiet, intense voice.

I laughed cruelly, mostly at myself—not that he knew that—and got to my feet, taking a step away. ‘Andrew, if you don’t think what you’ve done is noteworthy, then you can’t possibly have any respect for what I’ve achieved. And the idea that I somehow inspired all this …?’ I laughed again as I threw up my hands, another bout of tears threatening.

‘That’s not … no!’ He sprang after me, only stopping when he was so close I could feel the heat from his chest. ‘Miri, you did inspire me. Do inspire me! Every day. Like when you changed the layout of your café to make the customer flow better, and the way you dealt with that sleazebag the other night, and the way you stopped those arseholes at the club from taking advantage of you.’

I shook my head. ‘You built DrewDox! And according to your sister’s speech, you’re buying another company …’ It was a world I couldn’t relate to; I’d worried about expanding from the café to the bar, I couldn’t imagine what it would take to buy a company like his with important clients and HR departments and no-doubt endless regulations.

He stepped closer still, lifting his hands and placing them on my arms, his eyes tender as he looked down at me, and I let him, apparently possessing no self-preservation. ‘What we did is the same, Miri.’

I scowled. ‘How could you think that?’

‘If anything, what you did was harder. It needed up-front investment and rigorous planning and long hours. I started from my apartment and scaled up as the work came in. Very little risk. Very little outlay.’

Frustration bubbled up inside me and I shrugged him off, lifting my hands in an almost violent movement. ‘No, Andrew, it’s not.’

He stepped back, hurt in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Miri. I never meant—’

‘I want to go home, Andrew.’ I didn’t know why I was so upset. Why his saying nice things made me hate myself and feel like a fraud. Why I cared so much that he hadn’t told me about DrewDox. If he wanted to keep it private, wasn’t that up to him? It’s not like we’d ever been BFFs, and we weren’t really dating, he didn’t owe me anything.

But Theo had set me on edge, calling Andrew a liar, and I wasn’t good in social situations, especially when I was put under a surprise spotlight. It had been a shock, all of it, since the moment I’d got out of his truck. It had felt like an ambush.

‘Of course, anything you want.’ He looked … I wasn’t sure how he looked. Maybe like he’d shoved his feelings down so deep that his face didn’t know what was going on, either.

I tried to compose myself, dabbing at the tears with a tissue and taking a few deep breaths, as though that would do anything to un-puff my red, blotchy skin. I stepped up to the mirror and wiped away the black rings of smudged mascara. Luckily the rest of my makeup had held up fairly well, so my face wasn’t a complete disaster, only a partial one.

But as I looked at my less-than-ideal reflection, I started to feel foolish and angry at myself. I’d had a full-scale breakdown over a few curious people and some nice words. And why did I care so much about whether Andrew really meant them?

I turned and looked at Andrew, whose guarded expression I still couldn’t read, and guilt joined the growing self-loathing rolling around in the pit of my stomach. ‘I’m sorry, Andrew. I don’t know what came over me. I guess … I just …’ I shook my head as I thought about it some more, trying to sort through my feelings, to understand what they meant. ‘What I’ve done is nothing special, you know? Nothing to brag about. Loads of people do it, and have a far more difficult time of it than I’ve had.’ The words spilled free before I’d had a chance to really consider them, but they seemed right, and certainly they made me feel better, like in the light of them my actions had been, if not justified, then not totally unhinged.

His head cocked to one side, a curious look crossing his features as he watched me.

‘What?’ I said. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

He took a step closer. ‘That’s what that piece of shit used to say.’

Huh? ‘Who?’

‘Your coach. When you were in the national squad.’ Andrew was looking at me as though something profound had just slotted into place in his mind. ‘I overheard him saying things like that so many times …’

‘No. No, I—’ That couldn’t be right, could it? That man was gone from my life; I’d made sure not a single trace of him remained. Panic fluttered in my chest as I tried to suppress the memories Andrew was dredging to the surface.

Andrew shook his head, as though shaking away his own memories. ‘It made me want to punch things, but I never realized his bullshit had burrowed so deep.’

And then it was like I was back there, my old coach before me. Be humble, Miri. You have nothing to brag about until you win gold. Until then, you’re nothing special . Just do the work, keep your head down, and remember you still have a long way to go. The voice from my past rang through my skull. Words my old coach would say when someone at the club bigged me up or congratulated me on a win.

I froze, flinching as though my past had reached out and slapped me. ‘ Fuck ,’ I whispered, realizing Andrew was right. ‘Oh my God.’

He was suddenly at my side, running his hands down my arms and then tugging me into a hug so all-consuming I momentarily forgot everything but him. It was safe and warm and smelled sweet and woodsy and while it lasted, I could almost believe the fantasy we’d spun, that we’d been in love for years but never acted on our feelings. That he wanted me.

But as Andrew pulled back and stroked my cheek, I reminded myself that he didn’t want me, not really, that he’d suggested a fake relationship, not a real one. ‘Why did you invite me here as your date, Andrew? Why not just bring me as your friend?’ Would I have had this freak out if he’d done that?

‘I …’ His thumb worked back and forth across my cheek, and his green eyes dipped to my lips, which parted under his scrutiny. ‘It’s not important,’ he breathed, shaking his head.

It was important to me! Very important. Possibly the most important—

The door crashed open, and Dox clattered into the room. ‘Thank fuck, there you are,’ she panted. ‘Our mother needs to be diverted. She just arrived and she’s making a beeline for—’

‘Beth,’ Andrew finished, instantly understanding the direction of his sister’s thoughts. ‘Shit.’ He made to move, then stopped himself, looking back at me.

‘Go,’ I said, meaning it. It sounded serious, whatever was going on.

He slid his hand into mine and linked our fingers. ‘Come with us,’ he said, his eyes imploring, his palm so big and warm and right against mine.

I let him tug me along, following him out of the room, and we rapidly retraced our earlier steps, exiting through the front door.

‘Shit,’ said Dox, casting her eyes around the gravel turning circle. ‘She’s gone. I told her to wait!’

‘And when has she ever done anything she was told to?’ said Andrew. He and Dox looked at each other for a long beat before saying together, ‘The hut.’

They took off in perfect synchrony, hurtling towards a lavender-lined path that led around the side of the building and deposited us in the beautiful, mature gardens at the back.

‘There,’ said Dox, pointing to where a tall, grey-haired woman who looked to be in her late sixties was marching purposefully towards a small hut on the edge of the lawn. In front of the hut, which I could now see housed a bar, stood several tables and padded wire chairs, on which lounged a group of young, trendy-looking twenty-somethings.

It was an intimidating group I wouldn’t have ordinarily approached, with their multi-colored hair, large earrings, and clumpy black boots. But neither Dox, Andrew, nor their mother seemed to have such qualms, all of them rushing for the tables—me meekly in tow—to where a young woman with long dark hair and many piercings watched our approach with wide-eyes.

The young woman jumped to her feet, putting space between herself and the group, presumably trying to keep whatever altercation might follow to a limited audience. ‘Uh … Mum?’ she stammered, her stance uncertain and a little defensive, as though not sure what to expect but preparing to be bulldozed just in case.

The older woman enfolded her into a tight hug, then launched into a tirade that sounded angry but with words that didn’t match. ‘Don’t you let something like that come between us again, Beth … he’s a silly boy, and you—’

‘Mum!’

Andrew and Dox exhaled in relief, then Dox inserted herself like a wedge between the two. ‘Alright, alright, our turn!’ She hugged first the older woman, and then her sister.

‘I already said hi to you!’ complained Beth.

‘Can’t I hug my sister two times in one day?’ Dox shot back.

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘Beth,’ said Andrew, releasing my hand as he stepped forward and hugged her tight. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

Beth seemed uncertain as they pulled apart, and perhaps a little bashful, but then Andrew was introducing me, and I was being yanked into a hug so hard, my teeth rattled. ‘It’s so nice to meet you,’ Beth gushed. ‘We’ve heard so much about you over the years.’

‘Uh …’ I would have said the same, but the truth was, Andrew rarely talked about anything personal, so I’d barely known they existed … just like his company.

Their mother stuck out her hand, and I returned her firm handshake. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Delacour.’

‘And you,’ she said, sizing me up with formidable grey eyes. ‘Finally.’

‘Mother!’ Dox cried, then pulled out her vibrating phone, her eyes sparkling with delight when she looked down. ‘Claire’s here.’

‘Chocolate!’ squealed Beth, and then took off at a run, Dox hot on her heels.

Andrew chuckled. ‘Claire’s a chocolatier,’ he explained.

‘Claire’s a marvel ,’ Mrs. Delacour corrected, watching her daughters disappear. ‘Beth looks well, doesn’t she?’

‘She does,’ Andrew agreed, smiling as he, too, watched them go.

Mrs. Delacour looked up at her son, so much passing between them that I couldn’t even begin to decipher. ‘All’s well that ends well, then,’ she said, then went after them, albeit at a more sedate pace.

Andrew came close and slipped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into his touch. ‘Shall we go?’ he asked, and when I looked up at him, he seemed not even the tiniest bit resentful at the idea of leaving early.

My eyes roamed over the croquet set, shaded seating areas, and canapé trays crammed with delicious morsels, and whether it was because we were outside, away from the crowd or because the initial shock had passed or because I wanted to spend more time with the people who mattered to him, I realized I no longer wanted to go. ‘Let’s stay,’ I said, looking deep into his eyes, showing him I meant it.

He squeezed my arm and shook his head. ‘No. You said you wanted to leave.’

‘I did,’ I agreed, ‘but now I want to stay.’

‘You … Miri …’ He seemed conflicted.

‘Really, Andrew. I’m not just saying it.’

He pulled me around to face him. ‘You don’t have to do this. I will happily take you home or we could go for a walk or to the movies? I’m sure there’s some terrible romcom you could force me to sit through.’

‘Hey! Romcoms are not terrible.’

‘Precisely my point.’

I swayed closer. ‘I want to stay,’ I said in a low voice.

He appraised me for a moment, then took a deep breath, visibly relenting on the exhale. ‘You had better not be putting on a brave face.’

I smiled mischievously up at him. ‘You’re the one who’ll need a brave face after I whoop your ass at croquet.’

I pushed off him, his unyielding body giving not an inch, then headed for the mallets, accompanied by the tune of his laughter. ‘We’ll see, Buttercup,’ he called after me. ‘We’ll see.’

We played croquet—he won, much to my deep consternation—then took plates piled high with sushi and salad slathered in carrot and ginger dressing, and lounged the afternoon away under a shade on the reclining chairs down by the pond.

Waiters occasionally brought us new drinks, and Andrew’s colleagues occasionally stopped by, but for the most part, it was just me and him, chatting, laughing, or sitting in companionable silence and watching the ducks.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he drove me home, the stars twinkling in the inky blue sky through the windshield.

Even his side profile took my breath away. ‘For what?’

‘For coming with me today. For staying.’

‘I had fun!’ In truth, it had been so good it hurt. ‘And you must admit, it was nice of me to let you win at croquet.’

He barked a laugh. ‘By all means, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.’

‘Don’t make me call witnesses.’

‘Witnesses? Which witnesses do you think will come to your aid? I literally paid them all to be there.’

My heart gave a dangerous squeeze. ‘Beth. She’d definitely side with me.’

‘Hmm.’ I took the sound as reluctant agreement.

‘And your mother.’

‘Ha! My mother … Good luck with that one.’

‘She seems nice.’

‘She’d bite your head off if she ever heard you saying that. She detests the word nice . Says it’s for wimps and wigwams.’

‘Wigwams?’ I laughed in bewilderment.

He shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me.’

Silence settled for a beat, my heart full and heavy. ‘Can I ask you something?’

He threw a sideways glance my way. ‘Always.’

‘Why did you take me as your date?’

His shoulders lifted half an inch, and he didn’t answer right away. ‘I … How do you mean?’

‘It’s a simple question, Andrew.’ He knew exactly what I meant.

He glanced at me again, but didn’t say anything for a while, not until we’d pulled into my parking lot and he’d killed the engine. An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I chastised myself for it. Didn’t I have a right to know, seeing as I was the fake date in question?

He exhaled and drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. ‘I don’t know, exactly.’ He continued to look straight through the windshield, to where moonlight bounced off the rippling water of the river. ‘I guess I just wanted you there. It felt like you should be there.’

‘Why? Why as your date?’

‘Because what I said in my speech was true.’

‘Andrew—’

He turned his body, angling himself towards me. ‘I don’t want to upset you—that’s the last thing I would ever want—but you are amazing. I want you to know that.’ He covered my hand with his. ‘I want you to believe that.’

His words made my cheeks flush hot in the darkness, his proximity so overwhelming, I was worried what I might do if I stayed a second longer. I yanked the door open and half fell out of his truck, my feet thankfully finding the pavement while I clutched the door to steady myself.

‘Miri! Are you—’

The sound of him unbuckling his seatbelt had me turning back around, pinning him in place with my eyes, worried if he got out and stood before me, I would do something foolish under the false cover of the moon-lit darkness. And then he’d reject me again, and I wasn’t sure I could take it. ‘I’m fine, I’m … I just … I don’t understand why ?’

His forehead pinched.

‘ Why invite me as your date not your friend?’

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Because otherwise I wasn’t sure you would have come.’

Oh. What did that mean? ‘We’re friends, Andrew. Of course I would.’ Probably. I think … Wait, would I?

‘Would you?’ he said in a low, quiet tone that sent a very strange sensation skittering down my spine.

‘Yes!’ But for some reason I couldn’t look at him.

‘Miri—’

‘It’s late,’ I blurted, ‘you should go.’

He recoiled as though I’d slapped him, looking through the windshield for a beat before returning his gaze to me, his face having morphed into a careful, unreadable mask of nothingness. ‘Is that really what you want?’

‘Yes,’ I whispered, too quickly, ‘and I don’t think we should do this again.’

A dark look crossed his features, but it was gone before I had a chance to study it. ‘You—’

‘It’s messy, and …’ I so desperately want it to be real.

His eyes searched mine. ‘What about Theo?’

I grunted as a bolt of pain hit my chest, my brain shutting down as it dealt with the verbal wound, the reminder that Theo was the real reason he was doing this. ‘I don’t care about Theo.’ My words were more to myself than to him, and barely even audible to me, but they were all I could manage. ‘Goodnight, Andrew.’

‘Miri, I’m sorry.’ He leaned towards me, reaching out a hand. ‘I—’ But I slammed the truck door, unable to bear any more, and half ran for the stairs.