Take A Number: A Fake Dating Romantic Comedy

by Amy Daws

  “That morning show thing Max hooked you up with?”

  A nervous look flits across her face. “Yeah. They said I could bring a guest, and I thought it would be a good thing for a boyfriend to attend.”

  “Boyfriend?” I lift my brows curiously and sit up, propping myself up on the headboard. “But…our deal is over. Do you feel like you need a fake boyfriend for this TV thing or something?”

  “No…I don’t need one. I want one.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She runs a hand through her hair. “I thought you could come as my real boyfriend…not fake. The grand opening for the Denver location is that afternoon so we could make a weekend out of it. I have a pretty sweet Airbnb for the month since I’m going to be spending so much time getting Denver up and running. You could come check it out, and we could go to the opening together.”

  “As a real couple?” I ask, my body clenching with fear that I’m about to ruin everything.

  “Yes, real,” she replies with a laugh, and her eyes blink hesitantly. “I’m suggesting we not break up. We just…see how this goes for a while. We clearly enjoy each other’s company, right?” She looks at me with wide, innocent eyes that are painful to look at.

  “I thought you didn’t want a real boyfriend,” I state through clenched teeth as an ominous feeling creeps over my body.

  Norah shrugs, and a shy smile flits over her face. “I thought so too…but the past few weeks have made me realize there’s more to life than work and growing my empire. It felt good to have a partner…and not just any partner…you.” She glances at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “You’ve kind of opened my mind to other possibilities, Dean. I mean hell, last night when people kept telling us we were going to get married next…I didn’t totally recoil at that idea, which is a huge development for me.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I snap, reaching over and grabbing my glasses off the nightstand. This is a complete one-eighty from the girl I got to know a few weeks ago who swore off men for bakeries. What the hell is going on here?

  “I’m not saying I want to marry you,” she huffs with a laugh. “I’m just saying my priorities have shifted a bit. God, I even had baby eyes for like a split second when I saw you hold Julianna’s little hand during that wedding. I mean, clearly, I’m not serious about that, but even the glimmer of that thought has never happened to me before. It feels meaningful for me.”

  “Well, congratulations,” I bark, my tone scathing.

  She flinches as if I slapped her. “What does that mean?”

  I lick my lips and slide my jaw from side to side. “I’m glad you’ve had this epiphany and want a completely different life, but that doesn’t change anything for me.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No. Jesus, Norah,” I huff, scrubbing my hand over my forehead with clear agitation. “I only agreed to this fake relationship because I thought you and I were on the same page. At what point did you flip the fucking script?”

  She folds in on herself, her shoulders hunched. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I throw my legs off the side of the bed and grab my boxer briefs up off the floor. I pull them on and turn to hit her with a menacing glower. “Was it all bullshit?”

  “Was what bullshit?”

  “You acting like you didn’t want a relationship. Telling me you wanted bakeries, not babies. Your mother drama. Your Paris dreams. Were you just using me to make Douche Mixer Nate jealous or something?”

  “Nate? What?” She slides off the bed and wraps the sheet tightly around her body. “Nate has nothing to do with this.”

  “Okay, well, I guess I don’t know what to believe from you anymore.”

  “Why would you say that?” she asks, hitting me with puppy dog eyes that completely gut me.

  “Because I feel betrayed,” I snap, my voice rising so loudly it rattles the light fixture above us. “You claimed you were Team No Relationship. No marriage. No kids. Miss Fake Sexing is a Thing and now you want a real boyfriend? This isn’t what I signed up for. This is messy.”

  “This isn’t messy…you and I aren’t messy. Last night wasn’t just casual sex, Dean. You made love to me.” Her voice quivers at the end, causing me to look at her just as her chin begins to tremble.

  “Oh please,” I scoff and run a tense hand through my hair while trying to ignore the emotions she’s projecting so she won’t get mixed signals. I need to be very clear right now. “That wasn’t making love.”

  “I disagree,” she snaps, stomping her foot on the hardwood floor. “I might not be as experienced as you are, but I know what I felt. That wasn’t just sex. The look in your eyes—”

  “Is the look in every man’s eye when they go bareback for the first time,” I growl, my temper boiling over to a place I’m not proud of. To a place that feels raw and exposed and everything I never want to show anyone.

  Norah gasps at my guttural words hanging in the room like a thick, dirty fog that can’t be cleared. I can’t take them back, no matter how much I want to. With trembling hands, she bends down and grabs her bra and panties from the floor. She stomps into my bathroom and shuts herself inside with a loud thud.

  I begin pacing and jam my hands through my hair because I hate myself right now. I hate hurting her like this because she doesn’t deserve it. Maybe my mother was right, and I am my fucking father. And if that’s the case, it’s better that Norah knows now, not after a real breakup that crushes her completely. This is what’s best for both of us.

  Norah emerges from the bathroom in her underwear, and I move toward her slowly, feeling a desperate need to de-escalate this. “I’m sorry for that comment, Norah. That was mean. You caught me by surprise.”

  “How did I catch you by surprise? You’re not that stupid, Dean,” she cries, her red-rimmed eyes killing me inside. She shakes her head and pins me with an accusatory glare. “All this time together you manipulated me to have more fun…to let go…to change the core of who I am. And silly me, I thought you were having fun too. I thought what we had was unique and real, not fake. Then when I decide I like letting go and I might want more, you accuse me of coming out of nowhere with this? Go to hell!”

  “Norah, stop.” My face crumples, and I desperately want to reach out and pull her into my arms and take this pain away from her, from both of us. She’s right. We have been more than casual. But if I admit that right now, I’m sending her more mixed signals. This can’t happen. “I’m just not a long-term kind of guy.”

  Her head jerks back. “Yet you professed your love to Kate and you volunteered to be Lynsey’s baby daddy.”

  “Because they’re my friends. I’m safe with them.” Can’t she see that they are different? That she is different?

  “And you’re not safe with me?”

  “Fuck no,” I roar, and my chest expands and contracts like I have to manually tell my heart to keep beating. “I’ve never felt more unsafe with any woman in my entire life.”

  The room goes silent as my words do what they need to do, and the world spins all around me.

  “Then I guess this is goodbye,” Norah croaks, her eyes welling with tears.

  She moves to leave, and I shift, blocking her path, my body subconsciously willing her to stay while my head knows what’s best. “This isn’t how we were supposed to end. It was a business deal, remember?”

  “It stopped being a business deal the minute we started having sex, don’t you think?”

  I close my eyes, shards of regret slicing through every inch of my body. I can’t believe I did this. I ruined us. I really am my father’s son. “Norah, I still want to be your friend.”

  She nods, and an errant tear slides down her face. “Sure, that sounds good. We can be silent friends. Sort of like you’re a silent investor. It’s hard to tell if they exist without looking at the paperwork.”

  With those parting words, Norah steps past me and heads downstairs and out of my house, leaving deafening silence in her wak
e.

  My apartment doorbell buzzes, but it’s the hallway bell and not the street bell. I peel my face away from the Netflix marathon I’m currently in the middle of and wonder who the heck came up my apartment steps without being buzzed up?

  I throw myself off the couch and make my way down the hall to peek through the peephole. The sight on the other side causes my entire body to convulse violently.

  “Norah, open up, I know you’re home,” the terrifying voice muffles through the thick wooden door.

  I hold my breath and splay my hands out on the door and duck in case the person can magically see me through the peephole.

  “Norah Renee Donahue, open this door right now, or I swear I’ll make up for all those years I never spanked you.”

  “Harsh words, Elaine,” I mumble before unchaining my door and opening it to reveal my mother in all her perfect, active-wearing glory. I bet Elaine has never gone a night without a perfect eight hours of sleep.

  She blinks and looks me up and down like I’m a foreign object. “Why aren’t you downstairs opening the bakery? You do realize it’s Monday, not Sunday, right?”

  “I know it’s Monday, Mother.” I roll my eyes and do my best to ignore the flashback of yesterday. “Rachael and Zander opened for me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I had some calls to make.” I fiddle awkwardly with the wood on the doorframe and try to avoid her eyes in case they turn me into stone.

  “I don’t understand.” She points at my baggy T-shirt I’ve been wearing for over twenty-four hours. “It’s nine thirty on a Monday morning, your second bakery opens on Saturday, and you’re up here lounging in your pajamas?”

  “I’m surprised you remembered it’s opening,” I pout.

  “Oh hush, I’ve had the open house invite on my calendar for weeks.” She pushes past me and makes her way down my hallway into my kitchen. “Norah,” she gasps, looking at the mess all over the counter. “What on earth?”

  “What?” I ask sleepily, crossing my arms over my chest like a sullen teenager.

  “Why does your kitchen look like you’ve been robbed?”

  I shove a hand through my greasy bed hair. “I was baking.”

  “It doesn’t smell like you’ve been baking.”

  “I baked yesterday…just haven’t had a chance to clean up yet.”

  My mother’s face twists up in disgust. “What did you make?”

  “Cookie dough. I’d offer you some, but I ate it already.”

  My mother nearly starts her own convulsions now. “What is going on here? This isn’t like you, not at all.” She moves into my kitchen and rolls her sleeves up before filling the sink with water. “Is this because of that boyfriend of yours? I do not care for him, Norah. Look at the influence he’s having on you. These pans are going to have to soak.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” I state flatly, dropping onto a barstool because my body feels heavy on my feet. “We broke up.”

  She stops scrubbing and gapes at me. “You broke up?”

  I nod slowly. “Indeed, we did. So now that that’s over, you can go back to your matchmaking schemes.”

  My mother stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You never let me set you up, so why would you suggest I try now?”

  “Maybe things have changed.” I shrug and force a fake smile.

  “Is this one of your insipid jokes, Norah?” my mother snaps while dropping several dirty bowls into the dirty water. “Are you trying to distract me with the hope of setting you up before you tell me something truly horrible like you’re moving away or something?”

  “Mom.” I steel myself to say what I need to in order to get over Dean. “I’d actually like you to set me up.”

  Her eyes flare, and a hopeful smile spreads across her face. “With Nathaniel?”

  “Not Nathaniel,” I groan, and my body shivers with repulsion.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s horrible, Mom.”

  “Horrible how?”

  I decide to hit her with the truth. If I’m going to give Elaine the freedom to embrace her matchmaking skills, she needs to be okay with some oversharing. “Well, when Nate and I were younger, we sort of messed around before we both went off to school.”

  “Okay…” she says, nodding like she’s hip on my lingo, which is kind of amusing.

  “And apparently, Nate thought it would be cool to bring that up at dinner the other night…in front of Dean.”

  My mom’s nose wrinkles. “That’s obscene.”

  “I know. And Dean was not cool with it. It’s why we left in such a hurry. There was no fire at the bakery. I was trying to put out a different kind of fire.”

  My mother sighs and shakes her head. “I feel sorry for Nathaniel.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I nearly screech. I’m having this nice heart-to-heart with my mother, and then she totally comes out of left field with that. “How on earth could you feel sorry for Nate? He was a pig that night, Mom.”

  “I know, and I’m not excusing his behavior.” She stops with the dishes and wipes her hands off before she continues. “Carol told me he wasn’t doing very well in California. Apparently, he hated his job, and then the woman he was with cheated on him with one of his colleagues. Jim was all set to sell the firm to an outside buyer, but Nathaniel told them he was moving home, and well, they kind of changed their plans to help give him a boost. It’s kind of sad. It’s why I pushed you so hard to give him a chance. Maybe he could use a friend instead.”

  “Well, it’s not going to be me,” I state through clenched teeth.

  “Norah…”

  “What? He was horrible at that dinner, Mom. At your party, he was smug and patronizing. I don’t care if he was heartbroken or not.”

  “Well, you can’t blame the man for losing his mind a little bit in front of you…you’re…you.” She folds the dish towel perfectly as she gets a matter-of-fact look on her face.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, feeling strange at that remark because it’s not something I’ve ever heard from my mother.

  She shakes her head and waves her hand. “Well…Carol and I have always wanted you and Nate together, so I’m sure she was bragging about you to him like I was bragging about him to you. I’m sure after all his unpleasantness in California, he thought he’d come back home and reconnect with you. Then you show up with Dean, who looks like he belongs in Hollywood a lot more than Nathaniel ever did, and he kind of lost his mind, I suspect. You’d be a hard girl to miss out on, Norah. You’re quite the catch.”

  “I am?” I croak as her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’ve never heard my mother speak about me like this…ever.

  “Obviously,” she spouts with annoyance as she helps herself to a cup of coffee that I made earlier. “You’re successful and independent. You’re beautiful with very little effort, and frankly, I’m envious of that. Plus, you’re creative and business savvy, a lethal combination. Not to mention, you’re opening a second bakery and launching a franchise. I underestimated all the hard work you’ve been doing. Dean made me see the light with everything he said about you at our anniversary party. You’ve done what others only dream of, pumpkin.”

  Holy croinuts, I’ve entered the Twilight Zone.

  Elaine Donahue has actually been listening. Apparently, fake-dating Dean has had some positive effects after all. My mother almost sounds proud of me. And maybe a tiny bit envious?

  My voice is thick in my throat when I ask a question that’s been on my mind a lot recently. “Mom, what made you stop working for Mary Kay?”

  She holds her mug tightly and hits me with a curious look. “I had you, of course.” She says it crisply like there’s no other possible answer.

  “I know, but you could have done both.” I run my hands nervously along my thighs, terrified this will change the direction of our conversation, but I need to understand this secretive part of my mother’s past, so I keep pressing. “Women work and have
children. And you were pretty incredible at your job from what I can tell. I’ve always wondered why you quit and didn’t try to do it all.”

  “Oh, pumpkin.” She gets a thoughtful look in her eye and then carries her coffee over to the stool beside me. “Honestly, I planned on doing it all. I loved that pink Cadillac.” She laughs softly as she sits down. “But we struggled to get pregnant, and when you go through something like that, it’s only natural for your priorities to shift.”

  My lips part. “You never told me you struggled with infertility.”

  She waves me off and blows on her coffee. “It wasn’t something people talked about back then, but yes, we struggled for years to have you and for years after you were born to try to have another. I always wanted three kids, but it was never in the cards. Once the doctor told us there was nothing more to be done, that was it. I knew where I needed to be.”

  “Where did you need to be?” I ask, trying to get over the fact that this is a deeply personal thing my mother has been holding inside her my entire life.

  “With you of course.” She smiles affectionately and reaches out to tuck a strand of my messy hair behind my ear. “I loved teaching you to sew and bake and put on makeup. We got to do all the fun mother-daughter activities you see in those fifties movies.”

  “You could have done that with a job, don’t you think?” I question, feeling almost guilty that my existence took her away from something she loved.

  “Probably, but your father made good money, and once I had you, I didn’t care about my work anymore. I didn’t want to be on the road selling makeup. I wanted to be home with you.”

  I blink back my shock and feel a strange warmth inside my chest over finally seeing how much my mother loves me to give up something she cared so much about. “Do you ever regret it?”

  “Quitting my job? Heavens no.” She swats me lightly on the leg. “I loved what I did, but it didn’t feed my soul. Not the way baking does for you. I knew I had created a monster the minute you started asking for cookbooks for Christmas.” She laughs and gently touches my cheek.