“Yello,” he said upon answering. I bit back a smart-ass retort, like, “Red” and cleared my throat instead.
“Hi, is this Mister Estefan?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Cory. Cory York, Evelyn’s friend.”
“The neighbor?” He sounded confused.
“Right, yes, we used to be neighbors.”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “How are things? How’s my girl?”
"She's doing well. Really well actually." It dawned on me that I had no idea how often they spoke, or if they spoke at all for that matter. "She's um working now. Doing her residency."
“Back in Harvard. I know. I’m a proud dad.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “It’ll be nice to have a doctor in the family.”
I didn’t bother to mention that she was studying to be a kid doctor. I was sure he knew anyway. “So, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling.”
“I guess I am. What can I help you with?”
“It’s not . . . well, I want to propose to Evelyn and I wanted to ask for your permission.”
The line was silent for a couple of beats, then he chuckled. “I thought that was where this was going, but I wasn’t entirely sure. You were always a good kid. I’d like to think that you grew up to be a respectful adult.”
“I did.”
“And you love my daughter.”
“More than anything.”
"Then, of course, you have my blessing," he said. I smiled wide. Then, he added, "You should probably ask Margie for hers though. You know she'll want to be in on this."
My smile dropped. Evelyn's mom was a hard ass. I knew she loved me, but that didn't take away from the fact that the woman scared me half to death. Still, I did as he told me. As soon as I hung up with him, I called my mom and got Margie's number, and after a small talk with her about my job and what I was working on and her job and then Evelyn's job, I came out with it and asked her. She was silent for a while.
“I haven’t spoken to her about this,” she said finally, tentatively.
“I have.”
“And she seems okay about it?”
Margie never found out about our fake engagement. We only put on the show for Veronica and my family's sake because Nana saw the ring on her finger and assumed so we went along with it. Now that I was talking to her about it, I felt a little hesitant myself. Obviously, Ev knew I wanted to propose. She knew I wanted to marry her. I'd said so a million times. Besides that, we'd known each other our entire lives. She knew me better than I knew myself . . . except, she didn't know I'd been in love with her this entire time and she had acted like telling me that she was in love with me was insane, so maybe this was the kind of thing I needed to think about a little longer. I pushed the thought aside.
“She seems perfectly fine about it.”
“Hm.” Margie was quiet again. “It’s just, I don’t want marriage to affect her residency. I don’t want her to feel like she needs to give up on her dreams because . . . no offense, but because some man came along and asked her to build a future with her.”
“I completely understand that, but it’s me, Miss. Marg. You know I’d never let her give up on her dreams. You know I’d never ask anything of her that doesn’t make her happy.”
“You have my blessing, Cory York, but I expect you to keep your word on that.”
“I will.”
We hung up and I smiled as I walked to the subway station. I had a brand new ring in my pocket that I’d been dying to give her. I thought about different ways I could ask her, but in the end, I decided to keep it simple: dinner (thanks to a delivery app), wine (thanks to the liquor store in the corner) and the ring. When I got to our apartment, the smell of food greeted me. I found Evelyn in the kitchen.
“Hey.” She looked over her shoulder.
“You made food.”
“Uh, that’s what it looks like.” She laughed. So out went my plans to get dinner delivered. “Your grandmother called to invite us over tonight.”
“No.” I scowled, shaking my head. “Not tonight.”
"Okay. You should call her and tell her that." She turned back to the stove. "The chili is done. I'm just waiting on the cornbread."
"You even made the cornbread?" My stomach growled. Maybe it was best that the plans I'd made had been altered because it smelled so damn good and I was starving.
“Not from scratch. Don’t get excited.”
“Too late.” I walked over and set the bottle of wine on the counter before wrapping my arms around her.
“I love you, you know that?”
“I do know that.” She tilted her head to give me better access to her neck. I kissed her there. She groaned as she reached for the switch and turned off the stove. She moved the pot and turned in my arms to face me, reaching up to run a hand through my hair. “I missed you today.”
“You probably should never go back to Cambridge.”
She laughed. “No?”
“Nope.” I kissed her. “I think you should stay right here. Do you need me to start breaking bones so you have someone to fix?”
She laughed louder, kissing me back. I freaking loved her laugh and the way she felt against me. I loved that I knew everything to say to make her smile and vice versa. I especially loved that we didn’t need to rely on any of those things to make each other happy. Her presence was enough and damn it my only regret was not telling her that sooner, not because I’d hoped to change her mind about her residency, but because I wouldn’t have wasted all these months being angry and thinking she’d moved on with some other guy. We could’ve avoided so many stupid fights. I would’ve gone to visit her as often as my schedule allowed.
I broke the kiss because I knew where this would lead if I didn’t and I had to keep my head on straight until I popped the question. Evelyn pulled back, looking at me with the same emotions I felt – lust, need, love. I walked away and started setting the table. As we ate, we talked about my day. I left out the part about speaking to her parents. I left out the part about going to the jeweler to pick a stone for my grandmother’s wedding ring, which she’d given to me for the occasion. Once we ate and cleared the dishes, I grabbed her hand and led her to the door.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“Now?”
“Yes now.” I kissed the top of her head.
She shrugged and followed me out the door. We walked two blocks over to Central Park and I started feeling a little cliché. Was I really going to pop the question at the park? How played out was that?
Eight
He was nervous. I couldn’t imagine why though. This was the person I’d told most of my deepest, darkest secrets to. He was there when my parents split up and got divorced. He was there when I thought I was way in over my head because I wanted to attend an Ivy League college. He was there for the Yale rejection and the Harvard acceptance and was right beside me when we left on that adventure. He was there when I experienced frustration and elation. He knew just what to say when I felt sad for no reason at all. This last year had been different between us, but even during times when we didn’t speak at all, I was sure of him. I knew I could pick up the phone and call him and he’d be there for me in a heartbeat. I smiled, looking up at the profile of his face. I knew he was going to ask me the one thing I’d longed for from him for as long as I could remember. I could practically hear his thoughts right now: was he really going to ask me at the park? I bit my lip to keep from laughing at that. I’d bet all the tea in China that the thought had crossed his mind.
“Hey.” We stopped when we reached the corner. He over at me. “I never asked you . . . I mean, I don’t know that I wanted to know before but I kind of do now so I just want to ask you.”
“Okay.” He said the word slowly, eyeing me suspiciously.
"Did you and Veronica ever hook up?" I licked my lips. "I mean after I moved away. After she broke up with her ex."
He smiled, tugging my hand so I’d start crossing the street
with him. I stood still. His smile fell. “Oh my God, Evelyn. Seriously?”
“I don’t like being nudged when I’m asking a question.” I took my hand from his and crossed my arms, letting everyone behind us cross the street ahead. Cory’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “I also don’t appreciate you smiling at me when you know I’m seriously asking a serious question that I want to know the answer to. It’s not that – “
“No.” He sputtered out his words. “No, I didn’t hook up with her. Why would I? I was too busy wishing for you. Wishing you’d come back, that you’d call or text or not be supposedly studying with that guy at midnight. I was too wrapped in thoughts of you to even consider sleeping with someone else.”
“Good answer.” I nodded once.
The walk signal came back on and I tugged him to the other side of the street. I didn’t know why that was so important to me, but it was. It had only been a week and a half since the wedding but I hadn't asked him about it. We walked along the sidewalk of the park. When we neared the horses and carriages, I wondered if he'd make me get in one and propose there. God, I hoped not. We seemed to walk aimlessly forever, people watching, commenting on everything we saw, laughing at more than a few things. We spoke about my parents and his and how he'd come to see me every weekend once I left. I was about to ask him where we were headed when finally he pulled me into the park.
“There are a lot of people here,” I said, looking around.
“There’s an exhibition going on.”
“Oh.” I let him lead the way since I had absolutely no idea where we were going.
Maybe I’d misread his nervousness. Maybe he wasn’t going to propose after all. He walked up to the front of the line that had formed, flashed his phone at the guy, and walked ahead of everyone. There was a large white tent in the middle of the park. It had lights illuminating it from every side. I wasn’t aware that there was a Cirque du Soleil show here, but that was what it reminded me of.
“Where are we going?”
“You used to say you’d follow me anywhere,” he replied, smiling as he looked over at me.
“Yeah, but not blindly. I’d like to know where we’re going first.”
He chuckled. “You’re about to find out.”
We walked inside the tent. An art exhibition as far as I could tell. There were Picasso-weird paintings, with weird shaped faces full of angles and out-of-this-world colors, placed on easels all around the room.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to start collecting art.” My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I caught the price of one of the paintings. “That can’t be real.”
“I don’t think this is really the type of art I’d collect if I had the money to collect art,” he said, leading me to the back of the tent, where there was another door that led outside. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
It was UFOs. As in, multiple UFOs. The kind you only see in alien movies. I’d stopped walking to take it all in and Cory was standing beside me waiting for me to react.
“How’d you hear about this?” I finally asked.
“I came a few weeks ago. I’d been running by and saw the crowd and thought what the heck.” He shrugged. “And I’m so glad I checked it out.”
“This is insane. They’re not real are they?” I walked up to the first one. They weren’t huge like in the movies. They looked more like one-person vessels. “I mean, they can’t be real, obviously, aliens don’t really exist but who would make all of these? They look soooo real.”
Cory laughed. “I didn’t get a chance to ask whether or not they were real.”
“This is pretty cool.” I smiled at him. “Thanks for bringing me.”
"Remember when we built that spaceship in my backyard?" he asked. I nodded. Of course, I remembered. It was the day my parent's divorce was finalized. "You said you wanted to get away, to move away, to leave this earth if you could."
“Yeah.” I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “The spaceship really helped take my mind off of that.”
He reached for my hand. “It made me realize that as long as you were with me, I’d be okay escaping too. I would’ve powered up that spacecraft and taken you away in a heartbeat, and you know, for days after that, for weeks, for months, I thought, what if I could? Would I? And to this day, Evelyn, I would. I’d pick you every time, any place, any galaxy.” He shifted so that he was standing in front of me, holding both of my hands, and then he bent down on one knee. I gasped, feeling that knot in my throat pulse.
“I love you, Ev. I’ve loved you my entire life. All of those pretend relationships stemmed from a very real place in my heart, and I think it was the same for you. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, and I can’t imagine . . . I don’t want to imagine spending the rest of my life without you as my wife. Will you marry me? For real, this time. No more fake bullshit.”
I laughed, nodding, and let out a sob, "Yes. Yes!"
I watched as he pulled out a little box from this pocket and opened it. My jaw fell open. “You got a different ring?”
“This was Nana’s ring. The diamond is new.” He smiled as he slid it on. It fit perfectly. It was absolutely beautiful, yellow gold with the biggest diamond I’d ever seen in person. “I also got you this.” He pulled out a pink silicone ring. “My doctor has one, so I thought maybe this would be more comfortable for you to wear on your rounds.”
I laughed, too ecstatic to say anything at all. When he stood, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed my best friend, my soon-to-be-real-husband, with everything I had and there was nothing fake about it.
Epilogue
“Oh my God, Cory, what the hell happened to your hand?” I rushed into the room, not bothering to put on gloves before examining him. Total rookie move, I know, but chances were I’d catch any bacteria he had anyway. My brain flooded with my schedule, trying to figure out if I could take time off just in case.
“I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He shot me a sheepish smile.
My eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t purposely hurt yourself.”
“How crazy do you think I am?” He looked taken aback for a full second before biting his lip and glancing away. “It’s not like we have something to celebrate or anything.”
“Cory.” I dropped his hand. He flinched, meeting my eyes again. “I . . . why would you do this? You know – “
“Hey, Ev.”
“What?” I snapped, pissed he’d interrupted me, pissed he’d purposely hurt himself to come down here. I mean, what kind of psycho did I marry? Jesus. You would think –
“Evelyn,” he said, a little more sternly.
“What dammit?”
He chuckled, wiggling his fingers. "I'm not really hurt."
“Then why . . . ” I frowned, lifting his hand again and flipping it over.
“Not real blood.”
“Then why . . . “
“I wanted to see my wife on our one-year anniversary,” he said, squeezing me, spreading the gooey substance on my own hand. “I wanted to remind her how much I love her, how much I need her, how much I can’t wait for this week to be over so we can stop this weekend-only non-sense we’ve been doing for the last three years.”
“You could’ve called,” I whispered.
It was only Wednesday. He knew I couldn’t take time off because it was my last week. He knew how bone-tired I’d been these last few months and that every time I called him on a break was a welcome respite. That was when it hit me – this was my break. By becoming my fake patient, he was giving me a breather. I sagged down on the chair beside the bed and let out a breath.
“You’re giving me a break,” I whispered.
“I provided the fake blood and this fake gash.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised at the kind of things they sell at Party City these days.” He brought his non-fake injured hand up to cup my face. “And Mindy helped me execute this little charade. I didn’t want to upset you, but your voice was getting all shrilly
on the phone yesterday and I knew you weren’t getting enough sleep.”
I smiled softly. “So you came to my rescue?”
“I promised you I would.” He let go of my face and tugged on my hand. “Come here.”
I stood, eyeing the door. “But . . . “
"You're going to climb into bed with me and take a ten-minute power nap. I'll set a timer and everything."
“You’re not here to fool around with me?”
His gaze heated. “I always want to fool around with you, but right now is not the time. I need you to get some rest.”
I climbed into the small bed, settling on my side, facing away from him so that he could wrap his arm around me. Instantly, I felt at ease, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply.
"This is the best first-anniversary present ever," I said.
“Hm.” He squeezed tighter. “I thought we agreed to celebrate this weekend.”
I shimmied against him, he was hard all over and groaned at the motion. "I thought you said you weren't here to fool around with me."
“Plans change, baby.” He nipped my earlobe, caressing a hand down my side, tucking it into my scrubs. My eyes felt heavy beneath their lids. I mumbled something that made him laugh and stop his hand halfway down my scrubs. He slowly moved it to my hip. “Three more days,” he said, “Three more days until you’re officially mine.”
“Always yours,” I said, half-asleep.
“Damn right. Always mine.” He kissed the top of my head. “But in three days this whole faking stuff comes to an end.”
“No more faking injuries,” I agreed.
“No more faking anything.” He kissed me again. “I love you, Evelyn York.”
“Doctor Evelyn York.”
“My favorite doctor.” He chuckled. “Now be quiet. My wife needs to rest.”
Fake Love: NYT Bestselling Author Page 5
