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I don’t need his pity charm. I need a plan.
“Quit with the slick words. I need a plan. What am I going to do?” With every word, I become a little more determined. “I can’t go to the wedding alone. I mean, I could. I was ready to do that when it was just James. But now that he has her? I can’t let him think he’s winning the breakup and I’m some sad sack who couldn’t scrounge up a date after three months of being single.”
“Winning the breakup?”
I nod impatiently. “Yes. Every relationship has a winner and loser. You wouldn’t know this because you’re not in relationships long enough to need a winner and loser.”
“Touché.”
I know I shouldn’t care. I should just move on, knowing I’m better off without James. But I’m competitive. I love being the best. It’s why I’m coveted at my job. It’s why every attorney wants me on their cases. It’s why, when I was in second grade, I told my mom I was the first loser when I came in second-place in the spelling bee. That’s why I will not allow his pompous ass to think he’s better because he’s moved on and isn’t dwelling on what was.
I’m not either. I just need to make sure no one thinks I am.
“Yes. You need to win. And you need someone that will drive him nuts,” Stella says. “It can’t just be a friend. He’ll know what you’re doing. And you need to have chemistry. Like everyone feels uncomfortable watching you two together because it’s downright scorching chemistry. A guy who will fawn over you and treat you like the fucking queen you are. You, my darling Andi, need a fake boyfriend.”
I let out a defeated sigh. She’s right. I do. But where do you find one? Can you order one of those on Amazon?
“Oh! I’ll do it.”
My head whips to look at Max, who I’m pretty sure just volunteered. Unless I’m now hearing things.
“You?”
“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “Why not? Sounds like fun.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“What if I want to?”
Oh, Max…sweet, helpful Max.
Would someone like Max be perfect? Absolutely. First off, he’s hot as hell. I might have been in a relationship for the past five years, but I’m not blind. He’s classically tall, dark, and handsome. He’s over six-foot, his dark brown hair is always perfectly styled, and the man has a jawline that could cut glass while also somehow not looking pointy. The black shirts he always wears at work are perfectly fit to his surely muscular chest. And don’t get me started about the view Stella and I get when he bends over to grab a liquor bottle from the bottom cabinet.
We sit here for a reason.
But with that same breath, this is Max. Yes, he might be the only bartender in the world who knows how to make my martini just the way like, but over the years, we’ve also become friends. He’s driven Stella and I home on nights when we were too drunk to even get a Lyft. He makes sure I drink water in between drinks. He tells me about his dog and his music, and I share pictures of my cat and tales of the cases I’m working on.
Oh, and he’s a manwhore. And I say that with all the love in my heart.
Now, would he flirt with me like he’s madly in love with me? Absolutely. He’d be perfect. But in the same breath I can’t be worrying that he’s off trying to score a date with another bridesmaid. He’s a dear friend, but the man’s eyes wander.
“Don’t you work on Saturdays? Or have a gig?”
Don’t make me turn you down for real…
“Normally I do,” he says with a smirk. “But next weekend I am gig free, and for the first time in months, I have a Saturday night off. They finally got some reliable help around here.”
“And you want to spend it being my fake boyfriend at a wedding?”
“Hell, yeah,” he says. “Open bar and getting to have you on my arm all night? Sounds like a perfect way to spend an evening.”
This man is shameless. And very, very good.
I’m just about to say no when a “Yes!” comes from Stella.
“Excuse me?” What is my best friend doing? “The answer is no.”
“Max, will you give us a minute? I need to talk some sense into this one.”
