Chapter Six Amelia

SIX

A letter, hastily scrawled in red ink on a crumpled sheet of paper

Freddie—

Your clothes are as boring as a church service but you really did me a solid tonight. For a sec I thought they might’ve spotted me but your stuff was the perfect disguise.

Gonna take you up on your offer to borrow more of your things if it’s all right with you. Not sure when. You’ll know I’ve been by when your clothes are gone. I’m annoyed I won’t get to dress “like a stolen car” as you like to put it but I guess I can go back to dressing the way I like after this is over.

Anyway. Thanks again. (See? I AM capable of gratitude. Sometimes.)

—R

Amelia

Gossamer’s wasn’t a great coffee shop. The generic food was likely pre-made in some large industrial kitchen somewhere, the drinks all had silly names, and the prices were more appropriate for Manhattan than Chicago.

It was halfway between my apartment and Soph’s, though, which made it convenient for both of us. And the relatively low noise level made it good for both getting work done and catching up.

By the time I got there, Sophie was already at the table in the back that we’d long considered ours, wearing a red-and-white checked dress that looked adorable on her slender frame. Between the two of us, Sophie had always been the more fashionable one. That hadn’t changed even after she’d had her twins and decided to stay home with them.

She had a steaming drink in front of her. My usual Americano, which this wannabe hipster coffee shop called We Are Vivacious for reasons passing understanding, waited for me at my seat. When Sophie saw me approaching, she broke out into a broad, knowing smile that made me regret saying anything to her about this half-baked plan in the first place.

“You got your hair done,” I said. “It looks great.”

“It does,” Sophie agreed, tossing some of her long, black locks over her shoulder. “But let’s not get sidetracked. Complimenting me on how great I look isn’t why we’re here.”

I winced. “I almost didn’t come,” I admitted, flopping down into the chair across from hers. “After ten minutes on Tinder, I realized this was a terrible mistake.”

“Oh my god, I’d have killed you if you’d bailed.” She leaned in closer, so giddy with delight her dark brown eyes danced with it. “I got a babysitter for this and everything.”

My heart ached over how little time Sophie took for herself. “When’s the last time you got a babysitter?” I asked. She didn’t do it often, even when Marcus was away for weeks. When I gave her her birthday present next month I would make her get a babysitter for those art classes.

Sophie ignored my question and pointed to a man sitting on the other side of the coffee shop. Deflecting, the way she always did, whenever I got on her about not prioritizing her needs.

“What about that guy?” she asked.

I snorted. “I told you to wait to start scoping candidates until I got here.”

“But you just said you weren’t having any luck on dating apps. And remind me again of when you need to present a fake boyfriend to your family?”

“The engagement dinner is on Sunday.”

“That’s in four days.” Sophie held up four fingers in front of my face as if I hadn’t heard her. “There’s no time to waste. And if you’re striking out on dating apps…” She shrugged. “You can’t blame me for being proactive, is all I’m saying. And you should at least take a look at that guy over there before saying no.”

I sighed. Sophie was right. Resigned, I looked in the direction she was pointing.

The guy looked roughly my age. His dirty-blond hair was a mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed and hadn’t bothered combing it, but the rest of him looked all right. More than all right, actually. Especially the way that long-sleeved green Henley he wore clung to his broad chest and shoulders. And the thick-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose shouldn’t have worked. But somehow, they really, really did.

His attention was split between a journal he’d occasionally jot notes in and the magazine in his hands. The magazine had dragons on the cover. It reminded me of the books my nerdier guy friends in college used to study before meeting up for role-playing games.

I tried to get a read on him. Was he an especially handsome tabletop gaming enthusiast? Was he a sexy librarian? But getting reads on people from their appearance had never been my strong suit. Especially in cases like these, where the longer I looked, the more flustered I got.

“What do you think?” Sophie asked.

I turned to face her, feeling a little dazed. “Absolutely not.” It was debatable whether I’d be able to pull off this scheme. There was no way I’d manage it with someone I found attractive.

Sophie stared at me. “What’s wrong with him? He’s cute!”

She was right about that. I floundered for a response. “He’s reading a magazine with dragons on it,” I said, lamely.

“So?” Sophie said. “Nerds are cool again. Nerds are hot .”

I doubted whether either of those statements were actually true, but let it slide. I looked back over at his table again and saw he was now holding the magazine upside down and peering at it with intense focus.

I saw this for the lifeline it was.

“He’s reading his magazine upside down,” I said.

“That’s even better.”

I stared at Sophie. “How is that even better?”

“It shows he has a sense of humor.”

“I think it just means he’s weird.”

“Well, okay, fair,” Sophie conceded. “But that makes him a strong candidate for this, because honestly?” Sophie tapped the table with an index finger. “Showing up with someone a bit off-kilter could be the perfect way to show your family you aren’t necessarily better off with a man.” She paused, then added, “And besides, only someone who’s at least a little weird would be willing to go along with this in the first place.”

She had a point. “You don’t think this is a terrible idea that I absolutely should not be considering? Because I think it might be.”

“No. It’s one of your better ideas.” Sophie leveled me with the same stop bullshitting me stare she’d been using on me since middle school. “You thought it was a great idea yourself when you called me at eleven last night.”

I took a long sip from my Americano, just so I could hide my sheepish expression from my best friend.

“I had a momentary lapse of judgment,” I muttered. Which was true. I’d consumed nearly an entire bottle of wine over the course of the evening and had been listening to Taylor Swift’s Midnights on repeat when I’d called her. My critical thinking skills hadn’t been their sharpest. Though even in the cold light of day, the impetus for my coming up with the plan in the first place still rankled. “I just don’t understand why anyone in my family cares that I’m single.”

“It’s obnoxious,” Sophie agreed. “Which is why I think your idea is brilliant.”

I hesitated. “You really think it’s brilliant?”

“I do,” Sophie said. “You deserve to be left alone, and you are too nonconfrontational to be able to handle the tell-off certain of your family members deserve.”

I sighed. My therapist would probably encourage me to either tell my family to stop it, or to just accept that this was how they were and learn to tune it out. I’d been too busy with work to see my therapist in months, though. “This fake date plan does seem like the simplest solution,” I conceded.

“Yes,” Sophie agreed. “This plan is a win-win. Especially for me. The idea of good, angelic, perfect-grades, always-does- everything-right Amelia showing up at a family gathering with a handsome rando she picked up from Tinder or the El or a coffee shop is going to power me on amusement value alone through the middle of next year.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “I’m glad my mistakes are amusing to you.”

“Oh, they are.” Sophie grinned.

“Also, I don’t always do everything right.”

She snorted. “Right. When’s the last time you got a parking ticket?”

My cheeks heated. “I’ve never gotten a parking ticket.”

“What’s the lowest grade you got in college?”

Now she was just trolling me. Sophie knew full well I’d been valedictorian in high school and in college. I decided not to dignify her question with a response.

But Sophie pressed on, relentless as a Peloton instructor. “And when’s the last time you told off your parents?”

I swallowed. “I’ve never done that, either.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really.” I shook my head. “I never did the teenage rebellion thing. I just did as I was told. What was expected of me.”

Sophie shook her head. “Ame. This idea isn’t just perfect. It’s about twenty years overdue.” She set down her mug and leaned forward, arms folded on the table in front of her. “I bet if you take Mr. Dungeons & Dragons over there to your cousin’s wedding, your great aunt Brunhilda will never give you grief again about being single.”

I laughed. “I don’t have a great aunt Brunhilda.”

“Cousin Brunhilda, then,” Sophie said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I shook my head, amused, and then snuck another look at the guy reading his magazine just as he was setting it down.

His blue eyes met mine.

All at once, and with a dizzy sensation I usually associated with roller coasters or giving presentations in front of a large crowd, I recognized him.

It was Mr. Fedora Asshole from the night before.

It had been dark when he’d run into me, and his hat had cast most of his face in shadow. He’d traded the strange outfit from earlier for the more conventional clothing he wore right now. But there was no question that this was the same man.

It was clear he recognized me, too. His eyes widened in surprise, and those full lips of his quirked up at one corner. After another moment, his eyes flitted away again.

He began writing furiously in his journal.

He’d told me he owed me one for helping him. He probably hadn’t meant it, but the fact that he’d offered might make him more inclined to say yes to this.

If I asked him to help me.

Sophie cleared her throat.

Shit . I was staring at him. I quickly whipped my head around to face her.

“So since you’re definitely doing this—” she began.

“I have decided no such thing.”

“—let’s set up some criteria for Mr. Pretend,” Sophie continued, as if I hadn’t interrupted her. “To help you decide who to pick from among your dozens of options.”

I ignored the jibe. Because lists were good. Carefully considered criteria helped people make well-reasoned decisions. The only problem was, I had no idea where to start.

“What do you think should be on the list?” I asked, feeling more foolish than I’d ever felt before.

“I’m so happy you asked.” Sophie pulled out a yellow legal pad from her bag and wrote CRITERIA FOR FAKE BOYFRIEND in large capital letters at the top. “Let’s start easy. I assume you don’t want to take someone to this wedding who’s been convicted for a violent crime they actually committed.”

I blinked at her. “Correct.”

“ Not…a…violent…felon ,” Sophie said, jotting it down. “Got it. Next question. How old should he be?”

I thought about that. “Maybe mid-to-late thirties? If he’s too young and impressionable, it could get weird. But if he’s too much older than me, that could be weird, too.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed. “Also, someone who’s too young and still believes in love or whatever might fall in love with you.”

I snorted. Sophie had been married for almost ten years and was as in love with her husband today as she was when they met in college. She definitely still believed in love or whatever . Her willingness to play along with my cynical attitude just went to show what a good friend she was.

“No one is going to fall in love with me,” I said.

“You don’t know that,” Sophie countered. “These fake dating schemes lead to real love all the time.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do,” she said. “I’ve read about it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“Novels.”

“Novels?” I laughed.

“Look,” she said, growing serious. “It doesn’t matter what literally dozens of books I have read about the subject have to say. I’m just saying it’s a risk. I mean…look at you.”

“What do you mean, look at me?” I asked. We’d been friends for a very long time, and I knew she thought my never-seen-sunlight complexion, the near-perpetual bags under my eyes, and the nondescript brownish-blondish shade of my hair made me irresistible. My reflection in the mirror and my dating history begged to differ.

“You know what I mean,” Sophie said. “And either way, Mr. Dungeons & Dragons looks like he fits the old-enough-but-not- too -old requirement.” She chanced a glance at me. “He also doesn’t look like a violent felon.”

I snorted. “I mean, I’m not sure you can tell just by looking at someone if they’re a violent felon, but—”

“He’s also really cute.”

My heart skipped a beat. He was. And those lips ?

Who was I kidding? He was more than cute.

I wrinkled my nose anyway to mask my agreement. “I still don’t see it.”

“Sure, Jan,” she deadpanned. “I mean, Marcus and I have been together forever, but if he weren’t around, I would not kick Mr. Dungeons & Dragons out of bed for eating crackers.”

I turned around to face him again as I pretended to consider what she was saying.

“I suppose…” I began, then trailed off. “I suppose if I’m actually going to go through with this, not thinking he’s cute would be a plus.”

“Probably,” Sophie agreed. “You falling for whoever you tap for this role would be just as inconvenient as him falling for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “There is no danger of my falling for anyone.” Because there wasn’t. I hadn’t really, truly fallen for anyone in over five years. My experience with Matt had likely cured me of ever falling for anyone again.

“Sure,” Sophie said again, clearly not believing me. Then she tore off the list she’d started and handed it to me. “I gotta go home, unfortunately. The sitter can only stay until eight. But keep listing criteria for your fake date. That will make it easier for you to pick someone.”

Again, I couldn’t disagree with list-making. If I was going through with this nonsense plan, it made sense to go about it in an organized way.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I will.”

Sophie gave me an affectionate peck on the forehead. “Okay, hon. I’ll see you later. And if you do end up asking out Mister Tall, Strange, and Handsome, let me know how it goes.”

“ If I ask him out,” I said, placing extra emphasis on the if , “I promise you will be the first to know.”

But even as Sophie walked away, I realized that given that I only had a few days to find somebody, it might as well be him. He fit all the criteria Sophie and I had just come up with.

And he’d said he owed me one.

True, he did seem a bit strange. He looked normal enough here, but last night had been a different story. Then again, I was strange, too, wasn’t I? Wasn’t everyone a bit odd, in some way or another?

And if he ended up being completely bizarre…

Well. It wasn’t like we would ever see each other again after Gretchen’s wedding.

I gathered up the list I’d made with Sophie and slipped it inside my briefcase.

I was going over to that man’s table and giving him my ridiculous proposal.

Just as soon as I worked up the nerve to do it.