“I’m having all the thoughts.” She finally looks at me. “This is insane. You know that, right?”
“Completely insane,” I agree. “But it’s going to work. Trust me. By the end of this weekend, your ex is going to be wondering what the hell he was thinking letting you go.”
“That’s not the goal.”
“Maybe not. But it’ll be a nice bonus.”
She’s quiet for a minute. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you. You need help and I can help.”
“That’s not an answer. Nobody flies across the country to fake-date someone they barely know out of the goodness of their heart.”
She’s right. She’s absolutely right. But I’m not ready to tell her the real reason yet. That I’ve been thinking about her for fivemonths straight. I saw her skate once and haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since. Every time she looked at me like I was annoying her, all I could think was that I wanted to be someone she actually saw.
“Maybe I’m just a really good guy,” I say instead.
“You’re really not selling this.”
“Okay, fine. Honest answer?” I pull onto the highway. “You’re interesting. You’re the first person in years who hasn’t immediately liked me, and that’s kind of fascinating. Plus you’re beautiful and talented and you need help, and I’m apparently incapable of not trying to help beautiful women who need it.”
“That’s still not the full truth.”
“It’s true enough for five in the morning.”
She doesn’t push it. Just settles back in her seat and goes quiet. After a few minutes, she’s actually fallen asleep, her head tilted against the window.
I turn the music down and just drive, stealing glances at her when I can. She looks peaceful like this. Younger. The stress that’s always in her shoulders is completely gone.
I want to see her look like this more often. A lot more often.
We checkin at the desk and our seats aren’t together. She’s in economy, I’m in first class.
“I’m going to see if they can move us together,” I tell her. “Wait here.”
“It’s fine. We don’t have to sit together for the whole flight?—”
“We’re supposed to be dating. Trust me on this.”
I approach the counter while she’s distracted with her bag.
“Morning,” I say, sliding over my boarding pass and passport with my most charming smile. “I have kind of a favor to ask. My girlfriend and I booked separately and just realized we’re not sitting together. Any chance you could work some magic and get us in the same section?”
She glances at my picture, then does a double-take. “Wait. Don’t you play for the Puckaneers?”
“That’s me.”
“Oh my god, my son is obsessed with you guys. He has your jersey.” She’s already typing on her computer. “Let me see what I can do here.”
I lean against the counter, keeping my posture relaxed and friendly. “I really appreciate it. This wedding is kind of a big deal for her family, and showing up together would just, you know, set the right tone.”
“Say no more.” More typing. She glances past me at Juliette, who’s checking her phone. “That’s her?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“I know. I got really lucky.”
