"Hmm. Let me think." Rachel does that thing whenever she's deep in her own thoughts. Her gaze is somewhere between me and space, then her face shifts. Her eyebrows rise to her hairline, and her face spits into a devious smile. I know this expression. It usually means something chaotic is incoming, and I'm going to agree to it because Rachel's chaotic ideas have a 60% success rate, which is genuinely better than my own careful ones. "You could just get someone to fake it. One weekend. You show up with a husband, Derek sees you, you leave. Simple."
The list of rational objections arrives immediately: who, exactly, how, what happens when it unravels at work, what happens when someone from the office asks a follow-up question onMonday and I have to produce an explanation for why my husband of mysterious duration has suddenly vanished from my life. Is he CIA? Is he suddenly in witness protection?
Rachel lets it sit, long enough for me to remember all the times Derek made me feel small and insecure, when he jabbed at my fashion (So what if I wear ratty tees at home instead of Lululemon?), when he kept making snide remarks at how unpolished I often am (Yes, I eat pizza with my hands, sue me!).
I don't hate Derek anymore, nor am I angry he cheated on me, but those moments with him still sting. Rachel called him a walking red flag, but for six whole months, I was just so damn colorblind.
"You could bring my brother."
My gaze whips to Rachel, who nudges her chin to River, as if I don't know who her brother is. My brain doesn't work at full capacity yet because my initial thought is,why should I bring River. Then, the realization dawns, and I scrunch my face.
The automaticabsolutely notarrives first, before I've thought aboutwhy. But it doesn't take long for images to shuffle in my mind's eye—me arriving with River, who's a thousand times hotter than Derek, Derek getting bothered that not only do I actually have a plus one, but we have matching rings, and it's to a man he already met.
Because, yes, he met River, and both men didn't like each other on sight. In fact, I have never seen River glare at someone the way he did Derek. I was so surprised Derek didn't spontaneously combust.
Rachel's plan is ridiculous, but my lie is even more so. I would lose face if everyone proved my lie. Called me on it.
Then again, if I were ever in a fake relationship, River would be my perfect choice.
Why?
One, I've known him for as long as I've known Rachel.
Two, he's seen me at my worst—the super-thin, barely there brows after overplucking them, the horrific makeup when I still had blush blindness, the vomiting after a night out.
Three, he has always been there for me. When I had my period early, and Rachel was still in class, it was him who bought me tampons and let me borrow his jersey jacket to wrap around my skirt. When I went to the said estate sale and found a beautiful treasure chest, it was him who carried it to my first apartment. Did I mention four flights of stairs ... oh, yes, I did. When my car broke down in the middle of the night in winter, it was him who saved me from hypothermia.
I probably would have asked him out myself. Unfortunately for me, Rachel and I were watching "Bring It On" when she casually said, "God, I can't imagine you dating River. It would be an absolute nightmare for me."
Back then, I laughed and agreed. Then went home and did a very efficient emotional job on myself of deciding it would never happen, which I have been doing ever since. River is 6'5" with gray eyes and full-sleeve tattoos on both arms and lots of bad boy vibes and everything Derek is not.
Just the perfect kind of guy you bring to make your ex jealous.
River lets out a sigh so deep, I can hear it all the way from here. He faces us fully and leans back against the counter, the stirring spoon still in his hand.
Not dripping, because he's already licked it. Disgusting, I know.
The gray eyes I was just thinking about are looking at me now. I look back because there is no graceful way not to, but God, I want to drown in those depths.
Something settles inside me that I am going to pretend I didn't notice. I have been pretending for so long that it has become second nature.
"I don't have anything better to do this weekend, or the next. Nothing more interesting than pretending to be someone's husband, for sure."
The delivery is completely even. Dry enough that I'm half a second behind the joke. Almost, and then I catch it.
The laugh that comes out is surprised. It cuts through everything. This is the fourth reason River would be perfect—because he's so funny, he always makes me forget my anxieties and dread.
"A-are you sure? I mean, I'm not above going back from the lie."
Rachel smacks my arm lightly. "And make Derek think he won? So he could shove it in your face that he's now married and you're still single?"
"River, are you sure? Like a hundred percent and not just because Rachel is giving you the stink eye, which means you might probably find yourself kicked out of your apartment if you say no?"
River just smirks. "I never liked that Derek guy. He looks at mirrors more than you do. Say yes, Nadine. Let's get this son of a bitch."
His confidence is infectious, so I jab the spoon at him. "You're on."
Rachel takes this as a cue to start planning, and when Rachel sets her mind on doing something, not even natural disasters can stop her.
