“Yeah. Who else would I bring?”
“I don’t know. A friend? Someone to run interference?”
“Bringing someone would just create more questions.” I sigh and shuffle some papers on the desk, trying to distract myself. “I’ll be fine. I’m good at pretending everything’s fine.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” He looks at me thoughtfully. “What if you didn’t have to pretend though?”
I look up. “What?”
“What if you brought someone? Someone who could make this whole thing easier.”
“I just said I don’t have anyone?—”
“You could bring me.” He drums his fingers once against his thigh, then stops like he caught himself fidgeting.
I stare at him. “What?”
“Bring me to the wedding. As your boyfriend.” He says it quickly, like he’s worried he’ll lose his nerve. “Fake boyfriend I mean. If you show up with a guy who plays hockey, suddenly your ex isn’t the main focus. Your family stops asking if you’re okay. You have backup.”
“Rodriguez—”
“Think about it. You walk in with me, looking happy, and suddenly Garrett and his fiancée aren’t the story anymore. You are. And I can make him regret every decision he’s ever made.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Maybe. But it would work.” He leans forward. “Come on. I’ve got the Olympic break—no games until the twenty-fifth. I’ve literally got nothing to do. Let me help.”
“You can’t just—this is my sister’s wedding. My family.”
“So? I’m good with families. I’m charming. I can make small talk about whatever Toronto people talk about.” He’s talking faster now. “Plus, I already know the whole situation. You don’t have to catch me up or brief me or whatever. I know about Garrett, I know about your ankle, I know how you take your coffee and that you’re obsessed with anything maple flavored.”
“I’m not obsessed?—”
“Juliette.” The use of my actual name stops me. “Let me do this. Please.”
I should say no. This is Rodriguez. We’ve been hanging out for over a month but this is different. This is bringing him home to meet my family, introducing him as my boyfriend, pretending we’re together.
The alternative flashes through my mind: Garrett’s hand on her lower back during photos. My mom’s careful voice asking if I’m really okay. My dad changing the subject every time someone mentions relationships. Five days of that.
“You would really do this?” I ask. “Spend your break pretending to be my boyfriend?”
“Yeah. I would.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my friend and you need help.” He shrugs. “That’s what friends do.”
“This is more than friend stuff though.”
“So? You’d do the same for me.”
Would I? I don’t know. But he sounds so certain, so sure that this is what he wants to do.
“When’s your flight?” he asks.
“Ninetomorrow morning.”
“Okay. I’ll book the same one. We’ll fly together.” He stands up and holds out his hand. “Come on.”
