I catch him staring at me once, his head tilted a little bit to one side, a sexy smile tugging at his lips, and I have to remind myself that this is all fake, it’s just for George. It’s nothing serious. Except it feels so easy, so natural. I can’t imagine George and I ever doing this. He would complain that his fingers are greasy and mutter about the lack of wet wipes. The wind would annoy him. Worse, he doesn’t like walking and eating together. He thinks it is uncivilized not to sit at a table to eat. People are not horses, he would say. I frown. What the hell am I doing? Moaning about George. I love him. Still, if that’s my only complaint, then surely, it is right to want back what we had.
“So,” Rhett says suddenly, stopping my thoughts, as he leans closer so that I can hear him over the faint roar of traffic and the occasional call of the river boats. “Where did we first meet again?”
“You know very well where. The bar, Mason’s, you know, the one where I asked you out. You said yes. Then you pretended to be Roger, and we arranged to meet.”
“Oh, yes,” he says, pseudo-nostalgia in his voice. “Jessica Rabbit herself asked me out on a date. How could I forget?”
“Right,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s our official how we met. We can’t really lie about that because George might have seen the video online.”
“Video?” Rhett echoes.
“Oh God, you haven’t seen it? Someone videoed me in that awful Jessica Rabbit dress and put it online,” I mutter crossly.
“I saw,” he admits.
I dig him in the ribs with my elbow.
He laughs. “And for the record, that dress is lots of things, but awful isn’t one of them.”
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t have to wear it.”
“But look what it led to. Here we are,” he adds, smiling. “Eating fish and chips on the Thames, pretending to be an actual couple.”
I grin. “Quite frankly, I feel like Alice in Wonderland. This whole episode is quite bizarre.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asks, leaning in again. “Personally, I think it’s going shockingly well. I mean, we’re laughing, eating greasy food, trading details of our lives, and making history up as we go along. I’d say we make a good team.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Rhett.”
He laughs. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.”
By the time we’ve polished off the last of the fish and chips and deposited the papers in a trash can that we passed by, I notice that the sky has deepened to a dusky orange color, and the city lights are starting to flicker on along the riverside. I pull out my cell phone, realizing that I need to give him my address so that he can pick me up tomorrow for the opera.
“Right,” I say, leaning against the railing behind me while I quickly type out my address and text it to him. “Here’s the plan for tomorrow night. I’ve just texted you my address so you canpick me up at seven o’clock. That will give us enough time to get there early.”
His phone pings. He pulls it out and looks at the text message I’ve just sent him. “Got it. Seven o’clock sharp. And I assume you’ll be dressing to impress?”
I blink at him. “Dressing to impress?”
“Yes,” he says, his eyes glinting with mischief. “It is the opera, after all. Besides, don’t we want George to see exactly what he’s missing out on? You know, give him the full effect of his loss.”
“Dress to impress it is,” I say slowly, a small laugh escaping me. “Show that man what he threw away.”
Rhett smiles pityingly. “Poor guy. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
I shake my head, laughing, feeling light in a way I haven’t felt in weeks. I try to tell myself it’s because I am one step closer to getting George back. And I also try to believe it.
Chapter Fourteen
Pippa
I stand in front of my closet for the longest time, chewing on my bottom lip as I try to decide on an opera-appropriate outfit. Sandra had joked earlier in the group chat that I should show up in a ballgown with elbow length gloves like some high society duchess from the nineteenth century. The worst thing is, although she was joking, I know that’s how a lot of women will be dressed there, and I am wondering if anything less formal will make it look obvious that I don’t belong there. Lucy had voted for sequins, the louder the better.
That one is a definite no.
After much consideration, I decide I want to look elegant. Sophisticated. Sexy in a way that doesn’t scream it, but whispers it with confidence. Something that would make George, if by some cosmic twist of fate, I really do run into him, regret every moment he has wasted since the second he told me our relationship was over.
My fingers brush over silk, chiffon, and velvet, before landing on a dress I almost never wear. It’s a bit much for the sort oflowkey events I usually go to, which tells me it’s probably my best shot at being close to appropriately dressed.
