"Good for her." Chloe's voice softens with concern. "Now tell me what's really going on. I know you, Liv. You haven't answered my calls in days and you don't take breaks in the middle of event setup unless something's wrong."
I trace the rim of my coffee cup, watching the steam rise. "Is it that obvious?"
"It is to me." She pauses. "This is about Emma's wedding, isn't it?"
Fuck. She knows me too well. I hesitate for a beat and then the words I've been holding back finally spill out. "I don't know what to do, Chloe. They're all expecting me to bring her to the wedding in two weeks."
"Ah, the mysterious Sailor." Chloe's laugh holds equal parts amusement and concern. "Your imaginary girlfriend. Have you considered just telling them you broke up?"
"And spend my entire stay being set up with every eligible bachelor in Maryland because Mom thinks the right man will save me from queerness?" I take a sip of my latte, grimacing at the thought. "No thanks. You remember what happened at Christmas."
"The lawyer and the guy who breeds horses," Chloe recites. "Though the horse guy was kind of handsome, right?"
"Yeah, he was. If only I were into men." I massage my temples. "Mom keeps saying how happy she is that I've finally found someone who can 'handle' me, even if she’s a woman. It seems they’ve accepted me being gay as long as I’m with someone who can keep me in check."
"Keep you in check?" Chloe snorts. "You run Manhattan's most exclusive wedding planning business. Your waitlist is longer than the line at Magnolia Bakery. Since when does The Boss need keeping in check?"
I'm about to respond when someone pulls out the chair across from me. I look up, irritated at the interruption, to find a woman settling into it. She's wearing simple gray track pants, a plain white t-shirt, and a hoodie, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
"Excuse me," I say, covering the phone. "This table is taken."
"All the tables are taken," she says, shooting me a humorous grin as she scoots her chair back slightly and lifts her cup from the table. "Don't worry. I just want the chair. You can have the table all to yourself."
I narrow my eyes at her, but she just keeps smiling, completely unfazed. After a moment, I return to my phone call, determined to ignore her.
"Anyway, I don't know what to do. Mom's so excited about meeting her," I tell Chloe, keeping my voice low. "And my sister's been asking when we're moving in together."
Chloe snorts, and I sigh.
"I know. An imaginary girlfriend. It doesn't get any more pathetic than that." From the corner of my eye, I catch my uninvited companion's eyebrow quirking with interest. I shoot her a glare. "Chloe, I'll call you back, okay?" I mutter, hanging up before she can protest. The stranger is still watching me.
"Trouble in paradise?" she asks.
"That's really none of your business," I say. She looks amused like she stumbled upon some great entertainment and decided to investigate. She's clearly got nothing better to do.
"Let me guess..." She leans back in her borrowed chair. "You made up a girlfriend to get your family off your back."
I stare at her.
"I have ears," she simply adds. "So, what did you name your imaginary girlfriend?"
"Again, that's none of your business. You should stop eavesdropping. It's rude."
"Oh, come on. Humor me. I'm dying to know."
There's something in the way she holds eye contact, the confidence in her smile. The way she's looking at me... I know that look. She's gay. Or at least interested.
I take a sip of my latte, weighing my options. This ismysanctuary,mycorner table, and I'm not about to let some curious stranger chase me out. But she's clearly not going anywhere either, so I let out a resigned sigh.
"Sailor," I finally say with a grimace.
She bursts out laughing, the sound drawing glances from nearby tables. "Sailor?" she manages between chuckles. "You named your fake girlfriend Sailor?"
"I was running an event when my sister called," I say defensively. "It just... slipped out. I was literally surrounded by model waitresses in sailor uniforms at the time." I pause, realizing how that sounds. "It was a cruise nautical-themed wedding, okay? I'm a wedding planner."
"A wedding planner with a fake girlfriend? This just gets better and better." She's still grinning, shaking her head. "And now your family's expecting to meet this seafaring woman?"
"She's not a seafarer," I say, chuckling despite my irritation. "She's a finance director."
