“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because watching you stressed makes me want to fix things. Because Marie's debut matters to you, which means it matters.
“Because you need help,” I say. “And I want to be the person who helps you.”
She's studying me with the expression she gets when she's trying to figure out if a vendor's quote is reasonable. Calculating. Skeptical.
“Okay, but there has to be a catch.”
Here we go.
“Not a catch,” I say. “More of a ... mutual arrangement.”
Her eyebrows go up. “I'm listening.”
I set down my water glass, choosing my words. “You need someone for the Nutcracker this weekend. I need—” How do I phrase this? “My mother is relentless about setting me up. The PR team wants me to bring dates to foundation events. It's exhausting.”
“So you're proposing what, just to be clear?”
“I'll be your party scene parent this weekend. In exchange, you come to two events with me next week. The board dinner on Tuesday. The gala Thursday—you're already coming to that, but now as my date.”
“One weekend of community dance recitals for two black-tie events?”
“In exchange for saving your niece's debut performance,” I correct. “Which seems more valuable than standing around making small talk with board members.”
She laughs despite herself. “You despise those events, don't you?”
“I'd rather re-choreograph the Nutcracker opening myself than endure another conversation about appropriate marriage prospects.”
“Appropriate.” She catches the word, gives me a knowing look. “That word again.”
“It follows me everywhere.”
She's quiet for a moment, considering. “Okay, but how does two dates next week really solve your problem? Your mother's not going to stop matchmaking after seeing you with someone twice.”
She's right, of course. Trust Holly to see the flaw in my half-formed plan.
“Good point,” I admit. “Two dates won't convince anyone.”
“So what are you really proposing?”
I lean back. “What if we consider the next few weeks a pilot program? Through the gala. Phase one. We see if we can pull this off. If it works?—”
“If it works?”
“Then we discuss phase two. Extended arrangement into the new year. I introduce you to everyone you want to know. Here's the thing about people like Evelyn Durst—networking with them is a slow burn. Holiday events aren’t enough. You need multiple touch-points, different contexts.”
Her eyes light up with understanding. “So I get connections, and you get the sustained coverage you need to actually get your mother to back off.”
“Exactly. But first we need to know if we can even do this. If we're ... compatible.”
“Compatible,” she repeats, amused. “You make it sound like a business merger.”
“Isn't it, in a way?”
She mulls this over. “Won't having a fake girlfriend cramp your style? What if you actually want to date someone?”
