“I am. I do graphic design during the day to pay the bills, but my real passion is painting.”
“What kind of painting?” Red asks, and I can tell he’s genuinely interested rather than making polite conversation.
“Abstract work, mostly. I studied art in college, and I experimented with a lot of different modalities, but abstract acrylic is what I always come back to.”
“That sounds beautiful,” Marnie responds. “And probably completely over my head. I can barely draw stick figures.”
“I bet they’re the most amazing stick figures ever,” Freya declares with full seriousness.
As if on cue, Red and Marnie light up with laughter.
“I like her.” Red juts a finger at Freya. “You understand how to pick a girl, Ben.”
I find myself watching her as she talks, noting the way her eyes light up when she discusses her work, the graceful movements of her hands as she gestures. This is Freya at her best, passionate, articulate, completely unselfconscious. She’s not trying to sell anything or impress anyone. She’s being herself.
“What about you two?” Marnie asks, turning her attention to our relationship. “How did you recognize Ben was the one?”
The question catches me off guard, and I feel my carefully prepared responses evaporate. We should have practiced this. We should have scripted answers to the obvious questions.
But Freya doesn’t miss a beat.
“Honestly? It took me a while to figure it out,” she mentions, glancing at me with an expression that’s soft and fond. “Ben’salways been this incredibly driven person, you understand? Even in high school, he had these huge goals and this laser focus on achieving them. I used to think that meant there wasn’t room for anything else in his life.”
“What changed your mind?” Red asks.
Freya pauses, and for a moment I think she’s going to struggle with the answer. But then she smiles, and when she speaks, her voice is warm.
“I realized that his drive isn’t about ambition for its own sake. It’s about wanting to make a difference, to build something meaningful. And once I understood that, I started to see that there was plenty of room in his life for the things, and people, that mattered to him.”
The words hit me harder than they should. She’s describing me in a way that’s more generous than I deserve, painting my workaholism as noble purpose rather than compulsive behavior. But there’s something in her voice that makes me wonder if she actually believes what she’s declaring.
“That’s beautiful,” Marnie responds, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “Young people today are so afraid of commitment, but you two clearly understand what love really means. And when’s the wedding?”
I freeze. What am I supposed to respond?
I was hoping that Red would get off my back after tonight’s meal, but now I realize it won’t be that easy. He’ll still be paying attention.
With a jolt, I realize I’ve made a terrible error. Pretending to be engaged for a dinner is one thing. But taking it any further isimpossible. Freya and I can’t actually get married. That would be…
“In less than two months,” Freya declares. “July twenty-second. We would love it if the two of you could make it.”
My jaw must hit the floor. The words came out of her mouth so easily, like it was nothing in the world.
Red and Marnie light up. “Oh, we would be honored, sweetheart.” Marnie clasps her hands together.
My face turns warm, and I struggle to keep myself together. What on earth is Freya doing? Does she not understand what she just promised?
Despite my own panic, though, she’s cool and collected, still smiling easily and sipping her wine. I try to catch her eye, but she avoids me, instead transitioning into asking Marnie about what she likes to do in her free time.
Freya might not understand what she just did, but I comprehend perfectly well. I’ve just lost the agreement of my career.
CHAPTER 6
FREYA
The fresh air hits my face as Ben and I step out of the restaurant. I immediately feel some of the tension from dinner start to drain away. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and my brain feels slightly fried from keeping track of all the details of our fake relationship.
But underneath it all, there’s a knot of dread in my stomach that I can’t ignore. I screwed up. Big time.
