Page 13 of The Wedding Fake
“I work a two-two-three,” I replied, assuming she remembered what that meant from our earlier conversation.
“It means you work Mondays and Tuesdays, then you’re off Wednesdays and Thursdays, then you work Friday through Sunday?” she asked.
I didn’t know what to make of this questioning. “That’s right. Except it switches each week. Sometimes I only work Wednesday and Thursday and I’m off the rest.”
“Like last week?” she asked tentatively.
I couldn’t remember what conversation she learned that from, or why it was of much interest to her. My hope was she wanted to plan a date. “Yeah. I’d just finished my shift when we got stuck. Why do you ask?”
Claire inhaled deeply, and I had the sense she was bracing herself.
“Claire?” I repeated.
She rolled her lips between her teeth and then out again. “Is it, like, impossible to find people to cover your shifts when you want to take off?”
“Not impossible,” I said slowly. “But I don’t need to take off a shift for us to go out sometime.”
Her face turned a violent shade of red, and for a moment I thought I was reading the situation all wrong. Then she said, “What about to go upstate?”
“Upstate?” I asked, not sure what she was getting at. She didn’t answer right away, just looked down at her hands where they twisted nervously in front of her. Almost a minute of awkward silence had passed when her meaning became clear to me and my eyes widened. “The wedding?” I asked, my eyebrows arching high on my forehead.
Just the idea that she wanted to take a week-long trip with me was shocking. In fact, the only thing more shocking was the realization that I wasn’t averse to it. It actually sounded fun.
Claire dropped her face into her hands, and her words came out muffled as she spoke. “It would just be a friend doing a friend a favor. I don’t expect you to want to be my real date. We both know we’re not in some relationship.” She said the word relationship as if nothing could be more ridiculous, and her emphasis stung a little. Perhaps she was looking for a more intellectual type. I was, after all, just a paramedic. Not every woman loved that.
“No strings, just friends,” she added, before I had a chance to try to leverage the week into any sort of real date. “We can work out the logistics on the drive. I mean, I could pretend to have fallen for you for a week. Do you think you could, too?”
I nodded, leaning forward with my forearms on my knees. Looking at her right now, I could pretend better than she could ever imagine.
9
CLAIRE
“Do you want me to drive?” Hudson asked, leaning over my open passenger window with both of his arms propped on the roof. The pose made his shirt stretch across his muscular chest, and I pressed my lips together, worried I might drool just the tiniest bit. Minute one and this was already the worst idea I’d ever had.
“I’m fine driving,” I said quickly, needing the excuse to not look at him. Every time I thought too hard about what we were about to do, I felt the anxiety creeping up my throat, trying to choke me. I had no idea what I’d been thinking when I asked Hudson to be my pretend boyfriend. Obviously I wanted to get my family off my back, but seeing him here, triceps long and thick where they lay propped against the open window, the worry crept in. If I thought this week would lead to anything other than sexual frustration and potential heartbreak, I was an idiot.
“Great,” he replied, stepping back enough to open the car door. I rubbed one temple, trying to clear my head, but Hudson scrambled all my senses. I had always thought I could trust my gut about men, until Dan proved my intuition worthless. In the time since we’d broken up, my gut had taken a much more passive role. Until now, because the damn thing was full steam ahead where Hudson was concerned. It was only my brain who kept pointing out that guys as good looking as he was were man-whores ninety-five percent of the time.
I glanced in Hudson’s direction as he slid into the passenger seat, an action that should not have been sexy, but was. “I was thinking,” he began as he turned to face me, holding up his phone, “that we should post a picture of the two of us.”
I nodded. He was right. If we’d been dating for any amount of time there would’ve been a digital trail. I had to clean out more pictures of Dan than I cared to count when we broke up. “You post a lot?” I asked, leaning to the middle of the car and smiling. He grinned cockily, tilting his head closer to mine, and snapped the shot.
“I used to do a lot of videos,” he replied. “During quarantine. It was a fun way to pass time, but I haven’t had the time or patience lately. I’m sticking with stills for now.”
“I haven’t posted much lately,” I said, purposefully vague. He held the picture out for my approval, and it looked good. So good. I nodded.
“I’ll share it with you, but you don’t have to post it. If your family doesn’t expect a constant stream of updates, we’re cool.”
“They won’t.” I heard a ding as he airdropped the picture to me. I knew without a doubt I would be staring at that thing for a good, long time later.
“I should probably call you my girlfriend here, right?” he asked, pausing and looking up at me.
I swallowed hard. Was it too late to tell him to get out of the car? To give up on this whole embarrassing charade before everyone found out? “I suppose you should,” I said, pulling out of the parking spot and steering us out of the parking garage. What would I tell my family? This was already a runaway train of stupidity. There was no turning back now.
A thoughtful hum was his only reply, and then Hudson was quiet for a full minute while he crafted the post. My fingers tightened on the wheel, wondering what lies he might consider posting. “How about this?” he said finally. “Road trip with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”
I shot him a look, hoping the hot flush I felt wasn’t visible in the dark of the parking garage. “A bit much, don’t you think?”