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It was momentarily too loud to speak as the band ended a song and the audience clapped their approval. After the next song began, I leaned closer to her, subtly inhaling her feminine scent, and asked, “How long have you had this imaginary boyfriend?”
She cringed with embarrassment. “About six months. For as long as she’s had cancer, apparently. I feel awful. I was ignoring her calls when she began asking so many questions about you. Well, not about you. About the fake boyfriend. Not that you’re the real boyfriend. Ugh. I’m not even drunk and I sound so dumb.”
I laughed at her babbling uncertainty. It was so different from her sarcastic, sassy side. Still, I could see that she was worried, but her mum seemed like a kind-hearted soul. “You think she’ll be upset about all this?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah, I think she will be, unfortunately. She was so excited to meet you finally, and she really likes you. Did you see how disappointed she was when I pushed back on the spa trip? If I had known about her cancer, I would never have done any of this. Now it’s going to be unbearable to confess. I’m so selfish. God, I’m such a terrible daughter.”
Her eyes were welling up with tears by the time she finished. The look of sadness on her face gutted me. I just wanted to make her smile again. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It was a wee white lie, and you never meant to hurt her. And she didn’t tell you about the cancer either. I think she’ll understand when you explain it to her.”
She swiped angrily at a tear that spilled from her eye and ran down her cheek. “She’s just dealing with so much right now and I don’t want to upset her before her surgery. In fact, I may not tell her the truth until after it’s over. I’ll just tell her you have a work obligation at the last minute and can’t go on the spa trip. Then I’ll tell her the real story after she’s recovered from the surgery.”
“I’ll go on the spa trip with you,” I blurted out.
It slipped from my lips without much thought. It was either the best idea or the worst idea I’d ever had. Most likely the worst, but there was something about this lass. I didn’t want to let her go just yet.
Her lips pinched tightly together. “What? You would do that?”
She hadn’t outright rejected the idea, so that was good.
“Aye. I’m not doing anything much right now and I was just thinking earlier today that I could use a vacation.” Holding my breath, I waited for her answer. I was suddenly aware of how badly I wanted this. Of how badly I wanted her.
It was a preposterous suggestion, but she seemed to waver back and forth as she contemplated it. “We barely know each other. A spa weekend together seems a bit extreme.”
I leaned back in my chair, affecting an air of casualness I didn’t feel. “I’ve never been to a spa before. Do they have manly stuff to do there? Things besides manicures and seaweed wraps?”
“Don’t knock seaweed wraps until you’ve tried them.” She arched a brow and then leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and propping her head on her hand as she studied me. “Wouldn’t we just be prolonging the lie if you came?”
I didn’t even realize that I was rubbing a lock of her silky hair in between my fingers. “I would go if it would keep your mum stress-free and happy. Besides, I’m kind of curious about the spa. I think it would be fun.” I flashed her a devilish smile. “And we’re friends now, right? So, you wouldn’t be lying to her anymore — technically. I’m a boy and I’m your friend. I really am your boy-friend, Miss Meadows.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What a great boyfriend you are! You still don’t even know my name.”
I leaned in close to her. “Are you ever going to tell me it, lass?”
Her eyes closed briefly, and she muttered. “I can’t believe I’m even considering doing this whole thing.”
“Why won’t you tell me your name? It must be really hideous, I bet,” I teased with a smirk on my face.
I waited for an answer, but she kept stubbornly quiet.
Tapping a finger to my lips, I pretended I was thinking hard. “Is it Brunhilda?”
That got a little laugh. “No.”
“Eunice?”
“Oh God, no. My name’s not hideous. It’s just a little cheesy.”
“Cheesy?” My brows furrowed. What kind of name was cheesy? “Is it Brie?”
She chuckled but shook her head.
“Feta? Gouda?”
This time, a burst of laughter escaped her lips. She fake slapped at my arm and her hand remained on my biceps. “No! It’s Summer.”
Summer.
It was a beautiful name. Perfect for her.
