He smiles, although it seems forced. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just… that sort of thing used to happen to me all the time. Now, well, I bet those teens have never even heard of me.”
The sadness in his voice tugs at my heart. Micah frowns at him, his brow creasing with genuine sympathy. “Sorry, man. That’s got to suck.”
“I just have to accept that I’m starting a new era in my life.” River’s voice is resigned, and I can hear years of disappointment weighing down each word.
We get to the Venetian and take the moving sidewalks into the building. The inside is designed to look like Venice, complete with a painted sky ceiling. River suggests we get some coffee at a small shop tucked between faux Italian storefronts.
We walk to the counter and order. I get a caramel latte, Micah gets black coffee, and River orders something complicated with multiple shots of espresso. We sit at a little round table with wrought iron chairs that dig into my back. The ambient noise of tourists chattering creates a constant buzz around us. Micah and I drink our coffee, the corrugated cardboard sleeve warm against my palms. River fidgets with his cup, turning it in endless circles without taking a sip.
“Is your coffee okay?” I ask him, noticing the way he keeps staring into it like it might hold answers.
“It’s fine.” He sets it down then sighs deeply, the sound heavy. He reaches across the small table and takes my hands in his. “I need to be honest with you, Cricket.”
This is it. He’s going to do the breakup. Guilt once again assaults me, but I nod at him like I don’t know what he’s going to say. “Okay.”
“This isn’t working out between us,” River says, his voice soft.
I blink at him, unsure how I should act. I can’t cry on purpose; I’m not an actor. So I put on a frown and try to look sad.
River goes on, his eyes glistening with what looks like real emotion. “It’s nothing you did. I’m just going through a rough patch right now, and I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other.”
If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’s really torn up about this, the way he’s looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes, the slight quiver in his voice. I don’t know why his agent dropped him. He’s great.
I nod, feeling awkward and exposed, like everyone in the coffee shop is watching our drama unfold. “Okay,” I say again, not trusting myself with more words.
“I’m going to head out. You two stay. I bought us a gondola ride, but I don’t feel like going, so you two go. I’ll text you the tickets.”
River squeezes my hands and then leaves, weaving through the maze of small tables until he disappears into the crowd of tourists. I sit there, feeling too guilty to say anything. Does Micah know it was fake? I feel so awkward. The artificial Italian music playing over the speakers suddenly seems too loud.
Micah clears his throat, the sound sharp in the sudden quiet between us. “Are you okay, Cricket?”
I nod, feeling weird about this whole charade, like I’m wearing clothes that don’t fit. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” His gray eyes search my face intently, and I can see concern creasing the corners. “Seriously, that jerk just dumps you like that? In front of me? What a totally rotten thing to do.” Micah’s face flushes red, and he clenches his jaw so tight I can see the muscle jumping. “I really want to pound him right now.”
My insides turn into melted chocolate, warm and gooey and sweet. Micah’s angry on my behalf, his protective instincts flaring like a knight defending his lady’s honor. That’s such a sweet, swoony thing for him to do, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and smooth the angry lines from his forehead. “It’s okay,” I say, holding up my hand to calm him. “Don’t get mad at him. This is for the best.”
Micah stands and pulls me up, his hands firm and steady on my arms. The warmth of his touch sends little sparks up my skin. He grabs our empty cups and tosses them into the trash with more force than necessary. “Let’s go take your mind off that jerk.”
It’s super sweet to see Micah all worked up over my fake breakup, his protective side on full display. Ironically, I wasn’t even that upset when River broke up with me for real.
“Let’s go take that gondola ride,” I say. “We shouldn’t waste the tickets.”
Micah raises his eyebrows, genuine surprise flickering across his features. “Really? You still want to do that?”
“Of course. It will help take my mind off… things.” I feel guilty for lying to Micah, the deception sitting heavy in my stomach like undigested food.
“All right. You deserve it. Let’s go.” There’s somethingfierce in his voice, like he’s personally going to make sure I have a good time.
I pull up the tickets on my phone, and we walk to the designated area past shops selling overpriced souvenirs. A few people are in line ahead of us, so we wait until our turn, the anticipation building like butterflies in my stomach.
When it’s time, the gondolier helps Micah and me onto the boat. He’s a middle-aged man with an impressive mustache and a striped shirt that completes the stereotype. The gondola rocks gently under our weight, and I instinctively grab Micah’s hand to steady myself. We settle in on the cushioned bench seat, the worn velvet soft beneath us, close enough that our thighs are touching.
The gondolier rows us down the fake river with practiced strokes, his oar cutting through the surprisingly clean water, and begins singing something in Italian, his rich baritone echoing off the walls and painted ceiling. The whole thing is romantic, designed to mimic rowing through the canals in Venice, and the gentle motion of the boat is soothing.
Micah puts his arm around me, and I snuggle into him, breathing in his familiar scent of sandalwood soap and something uniquely him that I could recognize anywhere. His body is warm and solid against mine, and I feel safe. He kisses the top of my head, his lips soft against my hair.
“I’m so sorry River broke up with you.”
