by R. R. Banks
Greg's jaw dropped, and I glared at both of them.
"Oh, darn," she purred in a mocking tone. "I think that means you won."
I stood up sharply.
"Hey!" I said, half-laughing, half-frustrated. "I thought you would be on my side!"
"What?" Greg snapped, looking at me. "What do you mean you thought she was on your side?"
"Greg, meet Skye, a very dear, old friend of mine."
Skye sashayed toward me and hugged me.
"Watch it with all that old stuff. Someone's going to hear you."
"Doesn't matter. No one cares how old you are. You look amazing."
She sighed dramatically.
"I remember the days when they did because they didn't want to end up in jail."
I laughed and gave her a playful nudge. We both looked at Greg, who was staring at us open-mouthed.
"What?" he snapped again.
"I saw Skye sitting there and thought I'd have a little fun with you. She is not only notoriously dismissive toward men trying to get her attention…"
"Mostly because I like women," she added.
"Despite what her nails might tell you, yes. But she is also one of the best dart throwers I have ever known."
"Mostly because I taught him how to play."
"Also, yes. I figured that you'd tell her about the bet and she'd come over here and wipe the floor with you, not throw the darts all over the place and then help you win."
Skye shrugged.
"What can I say? I went rogue. You should never have turned a girl into a bet. Not cool. Besides, I think that doing something nice for someone would be good for you."
"I do nice things for people all the time," I protested.
"That's debatable, darling." She kissed my cheek. "But you are wonderful. And gorgeous. And sexy if you are into that whole man thing. You will be a fantastic date for her."
"I don't think I should be held to those terms," I said. "There was interference."
"Oh, but you will," Skye said. "I know you will. You can't resist an adventure."
She waved at Greg and made her way back to the bar where another woman had slid onto the stool beside where Skye had been sitting. I looked at Greg, who was staring at them. His eyes snapped over to me.
"What the hell just happened?"
I clapped him on the back.
"You just won our bet. I'll be taking Roxie to the wedding."
Skye wasn't right when she said I never did anything nice for other people. She, like everyone else around me, just didn't know about the things I did. I wanted it that way. Nobody but the people I benefitted needed to know about the money I gave to charity, and even they didn't know my name. My friends didn't need to know about the millions that flowed from my bank accounts to the various causes and organizations that I chose, or the billions that were still there, just waiting for me to use them. I set it up like that. I preferred it that way. My friends knew that I was comfortable. The closest ones knew I didn't have to work, but never inquired any further than that. I was pretty sure they could tell I wasn't interested in talking about it. There was a reason I distanced myself from the rest of my family by using my mother’s maiden name rather than my father’s. I maintained a close relationship with them, but I went to great lengths to not be associated with them. I didn't want people to know about my family's immense wealth. If I was going to have them in my life, I wanted it to be because of their perception of me and not because of my money.
But she was right about something else. I could never resist an adventure. Much of that was a result of my ample free time. I had never married, and my longest relationship ended years back. When I wasn't volunteering or confidentially serving on the boards of organizations I supported, my time was my own. That meant I had plenty of opportunities to go out and find things to amuse me. Opportunity and boredom. That was the one that got me the most often. I could do anything. I could go anywhere, yet I always felt like I was searching for something. That search often found me doing ridiculous things and latching on to whatever adventure came my way.
And, right now, that adventure was Roxie.
Roxie
"How long have we been together?"
I looked at the text on my screen in confusion. I didn't recognize the number and the message didn’t give me any enlightening information.
"Excuse me?"
"Are we serious? Do we see a future together or is this just a fling?"
"What?"
"Do we hold hands or is your family the non-touching type?"
I looked around the wooded park, half-expecting Thea to hop out from behind a fountain and laugh at me, possibly even recording footage of her prank to include in a torture reel for her reception. But the park remained persistently unaware of my existence, the other visitors strolling past without even noticing me sitting on the bench clutching my phone in one hand and a half-eaten soft pretzel in the other. For the first time in my life, I was glad my best friend wasn't there. No one needs to see the maid of honor with her mouth stuffed with pretzel.
"Do I know you?"
"This is Luca."
Luca? That didn't sound right. I couldn't remember what Terri had told me her brother's name was, but that didn't sound right. I felt I would remember someone with a name like that.
"Luca?"
"Your date for the wedding."
The next message looked like a hastily-taken selfie, but even the bad angle and strange lighting couldn't conceal that this man was hot as hell. And looked absolutely nothing like Terri, a point that I quickly reiterated to him.
"You don't look like you could be Terri's brother."
"That's because I'm not."
"You're not? I thought that he was supposed to be my date."
"Greg did intend to be your date, but regretfully, something else came up. So, I am stepping into his place. I hope you don't mind."
Did I mind? I didn't even know. I had finally wrapped my head around the idea of faking my way through the wedding week with Terri's brother. At least he would have the advantage of learning everything she knew about me. Which was a lot. As the first person I met when I arrived for my first day at work and my de facto closest friend in my new home, Terri had been the recipient of plenty of long late-night conversations when I was feeling homesick. I had steered clear of talking about Brad up until the recent revelation, preferring to leave that particular piece of humiliation as far in my past as possible. But she still knew enough details about me and my life to at least create a foundation on which Greg and I could hopefully build a convincing fake relationship.
This man was a total wild card. He obviously knew Terri tangentially, but that wasn't really enough. At the same time, I was rapidly running out of time to find a date for the wedding, so I couldn't really be picky.
"OK then. We've been together for a year. We had been keeping it pretty casual, but over the last few months, it's gotten much more serious."
"Do we live together?"
"No." Wait. Do we? I considered the option, then shook my head at myself. "No."
"Where did we meet?"
"I don't really think that matters. We need to know about each other."
"Don't you think people are going to ask?"
"I have never been asked where I met the men I've dated."
Of course, every man I've ever dated came from the same tiny town, so everybody already knew where I'd met them.
"Have you dated many men?"
Oh, shit. Did I type that rather than just think it? I scrolled back up in the conversation to make sure and was relieved to see that I hadn't. This man was just nosy. Of course, that was kind of the point.
"Enough."
That didn't mean that I needed to get into the nitty-gritty details of my love life. Or lack thereof.
"So, what should I know about you? What's your favorite ice cream flavor?"
"Ice cream?"
"If
we’ve been keeping our relationship casual, that means we've probably been meeting up for laid-back dates rather than anything fancy. So, we've probably gone out for ice cream. Haven't you ever seen a movie?"
"That's actually pretty insightful. Mint chocolate chip."
"Green or white?"
"What?"
"Green or white? Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Do you like the green or white? That's a detail a boyfriend would know."
"You're right. It is very divisive. Green."
"As unnatural as possible. I like your style."
"And you? What flavor of ice cream do you like?"
"Vanilla."
"So, you're boring. Got it."
"Vanilla isn't boring."
"Actually, I think that it is so boring it is used in place of the word boring."
"It's only boring if you want it to be. It's just like life. You can choose to be bored, or you can add sprinkles and hot fudge and maybe a chocolate chip cookie."
"Now you've left ice cream territory. You are on to full-fledged desserts."
"Too fast for you? Alright. We'll slow things down. Next question is yours."
"OK. I'll get back to you."
I closed out of the message and shoved my phone back into my purse. I didn't know why I had ended the conversation so abruptly. There was so little time to make it seem like we knew each other. But the exchange had taken me by surprise. Even as I got up to walk back out of the park and head home, my heart was fluttering slightly in my chest.
Chapter Three
Luca
"Favorite baseball team?"
I smiled at the message. It had been three days since I sent the first message to Roxie, and I was surprised at how happy I was to get another message from her. It had taken her several hours to come back with another question, and since then she would talk to me in bursts, disappearing for a couple of hours, and then returning as if the conversation had never ended.
"Chicago."
"Which one?"
"Very good. That was a test."
I was intrigued by her, and the idea of this whole experience sounded more interesting with every exchange. Besides, I had lost the bet, even if there was some trickery involved, and I always kept my word.
"Favorite childhood pet?"
"Never had one."
"You never had a pet when you were little? Not even a goldfish?"
"Still haven't. You?"
"I had a menagerie growing up. Dogs, cats, fish, a couple ferrets. I had a turtle once for a very brief time, but it crawled away, and I couldn't catch it."
"You couldn't catch a turtle?"
"Well, I had it in a box when I was sitting on the back of a truck bed and it crawled out without me noticing. I got up and picked up the box, but the truck was already driving away, and I couldn't catch up with it. But I did get a very nice picture in the mail a few days later of him being released back into a river. So, I guess that was a good ending."
"Good for the turtle."
"Mr. Boxby."
"Mr. Boxby."
I sent an emoji of a hand holding up a glass in a toast.
"Siblings?"
"Only child. You?"
"Four sisters."
"Good gracious."
"All married."
"And things are becoming a little clearer."
"I thought they might."
I thought for a few seconds before I wrote the next message, not wanting to offend her.
"Why aren't you married?"
Maybe not the most eloquent approach, but it would get the job done.
"I guess the tasteful thing to say would be that I haven't found the right guy yet. But the truth is closer to I fell in love with the wrong guy, and he put my heart over a cheese grater and used the pieces as a garnish for a picnic."
"He cheated on you?"
"Very publicly. Which brings us to why I needed a fake date in the first place. I have no prospects here, and I can't go back and face everyone I know still alone."
"You won't. I'm totally on board."
"Thank you."
Over the next several days we continued to exchange messages, and finally, the wedding was close enough we needed to start planning the trip itself. A week before, I got another message from Roxie. I was enjoying starting my day with her random musings, so I was happy to see her name on the screen. The message, though, was not as pleasing.
"We're going to have to leave a day early if that's at all possible. The drive is a nightmare, but I got us train tickets that can bring us to my hometown. From there, we'll ride with my parents to the bed and breakfast."
She had mentioned she and the bride were so close throughout their lives that they were essentially family, and that her parents and siblings would all at the wedding. I just didn’t know that meant a cozy family road trip.
"Are the train tickets refundable?"
"You aren't backing out on me now, are you? You can't back out. I've already told my mother and Thea and one of my sisters who never returns my calls that I am bringing somebody. By now it has probably ended up in the church bulletin."
"The church bulletin?"
"Well, yeah. It's kind of news there. When I left for New York, they all said that I would be back within a few weeks and finally marry Little Larry out at the truck yard. He'd been eyeing me for years, and they just knew that's where I'd end up. When I didn't come back that soon, it became like one of those charts with the people who ride their bikes across the country. They like to keep track of me. You cannot be the reason they have to print a retraction."
It came in several messages, each one more confusing than the next.
"I have no idea what any of that meant, but you can tell me the story on the way. I'm not backing out. We're just not taking the train."
"The drive to the resort would be really hard from the city."
"Which is why we aren't driving, either. I have some connections with an airline. I'll get us a flight."
"I can't let you do that."
"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I'll make the arrangements and send you the details. You just show up and be gorgeous."
I closed out the message and called the airport to arrange our flights. I wanted to make sure I got exactly what I wanted. It had been many years since I had flown commercial, but I didn't think that now was the time to introduce Roxie to my private jet. It would be easier to explain away tickets on a commercial flight without giving her too much insight into me or my financial situation. I spent the next few days packing and getting ready for the week ahead of me. Roxie sent me a picture of the itinerary Thea had sent her and I used it to pack what I thought I might need for the various activities and events of the week. I tossed in a few extra things just to make sure I would be ready for anything. I had been to enough weddings in my life to know that things didn't always go according to plan. If I was going to be the immensely impressive date that Roxie needed, I was going to need to be able to handle anything that came my way.
The morning of our flight came, and I packed everything into my car so that my driver could bring me to the airport. I had offered to pick Roxie up, but she insisted on getting there on her own. I pulled out my phone to send her a message as I made my way to the airport.
"Good morning. Are you ready?"
"If by ready you mean I have my clothes packed and haven't thrown up from nervousness yet, then yes, I'm ready."
"We'll take that as a victory. Don't be nervous. It's a quick flight, and it will be over before you know it."
"It's a four-hour flight and at the end of it is the Wedding Week from Hell."
"Wow, you one big ray of sunshine, aren’t you."
There was a long pause before I received another message.
"I'll meet you at the airport."
I put my phone back in my pocket and stared out the window at the traffic rushing past while we made our way to t
he airport. As we pulled into the parking lot, I realized that I felt unexpectedly anxious about seeing Roxie. I wasn't nervous, but it was something slightly off from excited. It was an undefinable feeling and one I couldn't remember having before. My driver brought me to the curb and I climbed out, scanning the front of the building for Roxie. She had sent me a picture of herself so I would know what she looked like, not knowing that Greg had shown me the candid shot sent by his sister. I had laughed when I saw it, noticing how obvious it was that she was trying really hard to look good. I didn't know if Roxie took the picture specifically for me or if it had been lingering on her phone for quite some time, but by the look of it, it was a throwback from an unsuccessful foray into online dating. It was one of those pictures that looked like it had been taken by a girl ten years her junior, the phone held high above her as she sat at an unnatural angle and gazed up at the camera. At least she had the decency not to resurrect the duck face. Although the picture seemed dated, there was something about her emerald green eyes that pulled me in. She really was a beautiful woman.
Something about the picture intrigued me even more than Roxie had already. It didn't seem to fit the woman I had gotten to know over text, but I guess it kind of did. Although we were actually meeting for the first time today, I felt like I already had a good understanding of the kind of person she was. She was smart, snappy, and hilarious, but awkward at the same time. It seemed like her awareness of herself went in and out, causing moments when she was comfortable and relaxed, while other times I could tell she was overthinking what she had said, like she thought that I was scrutinizing her. That seemed like what had been happening when she took the picture. At that moment she was acutely aware she was sending me what she thought was my first glimpse of her. She wanted to do her best to impress me and make sure I didn't regret my decision to do this when I saw her.
