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I let out a low whistle. “Six years. Wow. Don’t you think it’s time to cut your losses?”
“I’ve tried. It’s like we’re too ingrained in each other’s lives. We live in a small town. We have the same friends. Hang out at the same places. She has eyes everywhere that watch my every move. It’s not like I can just date someone else. The minute I walk into a restaurant or bar with another female, one of her girls will be on the phone with her, and she’ll be at the table within ten minutes.”
“Oh, so you’re lazy,” I surmise.
His brow furrows. “Lazy?”
“Yeah, it’s easier to just be with her than stick to your guns even if you’re unhappy. It’s kind of sad.”
“Lazy,” he repeats.
“You know what you need? A girl who doesn’t give a shit what she or her mean-girl posse thinks. Someone who isn’t intimidated by bitchy, entitled females.”
“Where do you find that? I mean, it’s one thing if I had time to build a relationship with someone, but what girl wants to put up with bullshit from the first date?” he asks.
I pour us another shot.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’ll do what?”
“I’ll be your girlfriend.”
He chokes on the whiskey he just swallowed. “My girlfriend?”
“Yourfakegirlfriend,” I clarify.
“Okay.”
I lean in and tap his nose with my finger. “Look, you and I will hang out. Let all her busybody friends see us together. When she gets back from her getaway, we’ll be a known couple. She won’t like it. She’ll probably apologize and beg for your forgiveness and all that crap. But I’ll be there to keep you from buckling.”
“You think that will work?”
“Sure it will. She’ll either move on or it will scare her into straightening her ass out for real. Whichever you accept is up to you.”
“Why would you offer to do this for me?” he asks.
“I don’t like to see people use love as manipulation. It’s cruel to play with hearts. Abuse of any kind is a hard limit for me. So, if you’re in, I’m in. Besides, I’ll be using you for manual labor, so we’ll call it even,” I tell him.
“What kind of manual labor?”
“I have a piece of property with an old fishing shanty on it that needs some TLC before I put it on the market. I’m planning to do as much of the work as I can myself, and I could sure use a big, strong fireman to help with the heavy lifting,” I confess.
We stare into each other’s eyes while he lets the proposition roll around in his head.
Langford returns and finds his card still on the bar, where he left it.
“We still drinking?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say as I snatch the plastic and head to the cash register. “I’m tired, and I’d like to get cleaned up and out of here. Besides, if I don’t cut you guys off, Corbin will be too hungover for our date tomorrow night.”
Langford’s eyes go wide. “Your date?”
“Yep. He just asked me to dinner, and I said yes.”
He turns to Corbin. “You did?”
Corbin leans back in his chair and watches me as I run the card. “Yep. I’m in the mood for steaks, and I hate to eat alone.”
