Chapter 9
JULIETTE
The plane levels out at cruising altitude and I finally let myself breathe.
Rodriguez is next to me in first class, first class that he somehow charmed his way into getting me upgraded to, looking completely relaxed. Like flying across the country to fake-date someone for a week is just a normal Tuesday for him.
Maybe it is. What do I know about his life really?
I know his name isn’t actually Rod, even though that’s what the NHL roster says.
I know he’s from Chicago and has two sisters and cries watching Disney movies, we talked about that for almost an hour during one of our lunches, where his impressions had me doubled over in laughter.
I know he upgraded my seat by flirting with a gate agent who had a hockey-fan son.
I know he’s doing all of this to help me, and I still don’t fully understand why.
“You okay?” he asks, glancing over at me.
“Fine.”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you look like you’re mentally imagining every single possible way this could go wrong.”
He’s not wrong. My fingers are twisting together in my lap. “I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
“About how insane this is. About how I’m bringing a fake boyfriend to my sister’s wedding and somehow convinced you to spend your Olympic break pretending to date me.”
“You didn’t convince me. I volunteered.”
“Which is even more insane.”
The flight attendant appears with champagne and Rodriguez thanks her with that easy smile that probably gets him whatever he wants. She actually blushes before walking away.
“You do that a lot,” I say.
“Do what?”
“Charm people. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”
“It kind of is though.” He shrugs. “People like feeling noticed. You smile, say thank you, treat them like they matter. It’s not complicated.”
“It is for some of us.”
“You’re charming when you want to be.”
“I’m really not.”
“You are with the kids you teach. I’ve seen you.”
I look at him sharply. “When have you seen me teach?”
“I might have stopped by the rink a few times when I knew you’d be there. Purely coincidental.” The grin on his face tells me it was absolutely not coincidental. “You’re patient with them. Encouraging. They love you.”
“That’s different. Kids are easy.”
“And adults are hard?”
“Adults have expectations. Kids just want to learn how to skate backwards without falling on their butts.”
He laughs at that, and I realize this might actually work. He’s easy to talk to when I’m not actively trying to avoid him. Funny without being obnoxious about it. Present without being pushy.
It’s kind of disarming.
“So,” he says, settling back in his seat. “Tell me about your family. What do I need to know before I meet them?”
“My mom is going to love you,” I start. “She loves everyone though. She’ll ask you a million questions and feed you too much food and probably show you embarrassing photos of me as a kid.”
“I’m great with moms.”
“My dad is going to be more skeptical. He’s protective. He’ll want to know your intentions, your job stability, whether you’re serious about me.”
“Also great with dads.”
“My sister Olivia is the bride. She’s two years younger than me, very bubbly, very in love. She’ll be distracted by wedding stuff but she’ll definitely interrogate you at some point.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Owen is her fiancé. He’s great. Kind of quiet, works in finance, worships the ground Olivia walks on. They’re disgustingly perfect together.”
“And Garrett is Owen’s best friend.”
The name sits heavy between us. “Yeah. He’ll be at everything. Best man duties. And his fiancée will be there too.”
“What’s her name?”
“Melissa.” I haven’t said her name out loud since November. “I don’t know much about her. Just that she works with Garrett and apparently she’s everything I’m not.”
“I doubt that.”
“You don’t know anything about her.”
“Don’t need to. If she were better than you, he wouldn’t be watching you all weekend wondering what he gave up.”
“You don’t know that he’ll do that.”
“I know guys. Trust me on this.” Rodriguez reaches over and takes my hand, his fingers warm as they wrap around mine. “But that’s not why we’re doing this. We’re doing this so you can get through your sister’s wedding without feeling like the sad single one. Everything else is just a bonus.”
I look down at our hands. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For doing this. I know I keep saying that, but I mean it.”
“I know you do.” He squeezes my hand once, then lets go. “Now. What else do I need to know? Are there any family dynamics I should be aware of? Crazy uncles? Judgmental aunts?”
“My Aunt Yvette is going to ask when we’re getting married within five minutes of meeting you.”
“What should I say?”
“Probably that we’re taking it slow. We’ve only been dating a few weeks.”
“Got it. Slow and steady. Very respectful.” He’s grinning again. “What about extended family? Cousins?”
“A few. Most of them are around Olivia’s age. They’ll probably just be excited there’s a professional athlete at the wedding.”
“I can sign things if needed.”
“Please don’t encourage them.”
“No promises.”
The flight attendant comes by again, this time with warm cookies and more drinks. Rodriguez accepts both with another one of those smiles that seems to make people light up.
“You’re going to be exhausted by the end of this,” I say once she’s gone.
“By the end of what?”
“Charming my entire family for six days straight.”
“I don’t get exhausted from being charming. It’s kind of my default setting.” He bites into a cookie. “Besides, I’m not charming them. I’m just being myself. They’re going to love me because I’m legitimately great.”
The confidence should be annoying. On anyone else, it would be. But on Rodriguez, it’s somehow endearing. Like he genuinely believes it without being obnoxious about it.
“What about you?” he asks. “What do you do when you’re nervous?”
“I don’t get nervous.”
“Liar. You’ve been tapping your foot since we sat down.”
I look down. He’s right. My foot has been moving in a steady rhythm against the floor. I still my leg immediately.
“I get quiet,” I admit. “Overly polite. I smile when I don’t mean it and agree with things I don’t actually agree with.”
“So I should watch for the fake smile.”
“Probably.”
He studies my face for a long moment, his gaze traveling from my eyes to my mouth and back. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Your fake smile. I need to know what I’m looking for this weekend.”
I give him my perfected fake smile. The one I use for family photos and awkward social situations. Polite, pleasant, completely empty.
“Okay, that’s terrifying,” he says. “You look like a politician.”
“That’s the point.”
“Now do the real one.”
“I’m not going to smile on command.”
“Come on. Just once. So I know the difference.”
“Rodriguez—”
“Please? For research purposes.”
I shake my head, but I can feel the real smile starting anyway, pulling at the corners of my mouth despite my best efforts. The one I can’t quite control when he’s being like this.
“There it is,” he says softly. “That one’s way better.”
My face heats up. I look away, suddenly self-conscious. “We should probably go over the schedule. So you know what you’re getting into.”
“Hit me.”
I pull up my phone and open the email Olivia sent last week with the full wedding weekend itinerary. “Okay. So. We land around three PM Toronto time. My parents are picking us up from the airport.”
“Great. First impressions at baggage claim. I can work with that.”
“Then we’re going straight to the hotel to check in and get settled. There’s a welcome dinner tonight at six at this Italian restaurant near the hotel.”
“So Garrett will be there?”
“Yes. And Melissa.” My throat tightens slightly.
“Perfect. We’ll make a good first impression.” He says it like it’s already decided. Like there’s no question. “What’s tomorrow?”
“Wednesday there’s a brewery tour for anyone who wants to go. Owen’s idea. Very casual, lots of family from both sides.”
“I like beer. This is good.”
“Thursday my mom has planned this whole day trip to Niagara Falls for out-of-town guests. It’s like two hours there and back, plus time at the falls.”
“That sounds cool actually.”
“Friday is the rehearsal dinner. That’s the big one before the actual wedding. Formal, speeches, the whole thing.”
“And Saturday is the wedding.”
“Saturday is the wedding. Late afternoon ceremony, then cocktail hour, then reception. Very elegant, very Olivia.”
“What about Sunday?”
“Sunday is family brunch. Sort of a goodbye thing for everyone who’s leaving that day.”
“And we fly back Monday.”
“Monday afternoon, yeah.” I scroll through the email again. “So that’s a lot of events. A lot of time with my family. A lot of opportunities for this to go wrong.”
“Or a lot of opportunities for this to go right.” He’s looking at me with that expression again.
The one that makes me think he actually believes this will work.
“Stop worrying. We’ve got this.” He keeps saying that like repetition will make it true.
The weird thing is, when he says it, my shoulders actually drop a fraction.
Like my body believes him even if my brain doesn’t.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“How are you so confident about everything?”
“Because I’m very good at reading rooms and playing whatever role I need to play.
And because—” He pauses. “Because I actually want to help you. This isn’t just some favor I’m doing to be nice.
I want you to have a good time this weekend.
I want your family to love me. I want your ex to see what he gave up.
And I want you to stop looking like you’re waiting for everything to fall apart. ”
The honesty in his voice catches me off guard. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you care so much? You barely know me.”
“Maybe I want to know you better.”
“You could have just asked me out like a normal person.”
“I did. You said no. Multiple times.”
Okay, he’s got me there. “So this is your backup plan? Fake-date me for a week and hope I eventually like you?”
“Is it working?”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because the truth is that it might be working. Sitting here in first class with him, watching him be effortlessly charming and genuinely kind and completely unfazed by the insanity of this situation, I’m starting to see what he’s been trying to show me for months.
That he’s not just some hockey player hitting on me. That underneath all that confidence and charm, there might actually be someone worth knowing.
That maybe I’ve been keeping him at a distance because it was safer than letting him get close.
“Ask me again at the end of the week,” I say finally.
“Deal.” He settles back in his seat, looking satisfied with that answer. “Now. Tell me more about these embarrassing childhood photos your mom’s going to show me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on. I need to be prepared.”
“You’ll survive the surprise.”
“Will I though? What if there’s one of you with braces and a terrible haircut and I can’t keep a straight face?”
“I never had braces.”
“Of course you didn’t. You probably had perfect teeth from birth.”
“I did actually.”
“Show off.”
I’m smiling again. The real one. And from the way he’s looking at me, he definitely notices.
The flight attendant announces we’re starting our descent into Toronto. I look out the window at the city coming into view, the familiar skyline making my stomach clench. Home. Except it hasn’t felt like home in three years. Not since I left for college in Seattle.
Rodriguez must sense my tension because he reaches over and squeezes my hand again. “Hey. Whatever happens this week, I’ve got your back. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And if it gets too weird or too hard or you just need a break, we can fake a headache or a phone call or whatever. Just say the word.”
“What’s the word?”
“I don’t know. Pick one.”
I think about it. “Poodle.”
He laughs. “Because of the RoRo and JuJu thing?”
“Because it’s ridiculous enough that you’ll know I mean it.”
“Poodle it is. Safe word established.” He’s still holding my hand. “Ready for this?”
No. Absolutely not. I’m about to walk off this plane into my worst nightmare with a fake boyfriend I barely know and somehow convince my entire family that we’re in love.
But Rodriguez is looking at me with such genuine confidence, such complete certainty that this will work, that I find myself nodding.
“Ready.”
The plane touches down and I realize there’s no turning back now.
This is happening.
For better or worse, Rodriguez and I are about to spend six days pretending to be in love.
I just hope I can remember it’s pretend.