“He’s like—” she begins, then breaks off, before finishinglamely, “tall.”
“Holy moly,that’sthe guy you’re faking an engagement for?” Kit whispers loudly. “He’s gorgeous!”
“He’s with a woman,” Greer says, and my head snaps up and around, back to where I saw him come in.
And sure enough, Aiden’s with a woman—petite, curvy, brown haired, and wearing the same uniform as his, which she manages to make look cute as all get out. Her hair is pulled into a messy topknot, her face tanned and smiling. My stomach plummets, maybe to somewhere around the area of my knees. And then Aiden looks up, catches me watching, and my stomach probably slides out from beneath my feet.
“Just—you know,” I say, my teeth gritted. “Act normal.”
“Uh, right,” says Kit. “We’ll follow your lead, huh?” I catch her tossing a sidelong glance to Greer, who offers a sympathetic wince in my direction.
“It’s fine,” I say, raising a hand in halfhearted greeting. “We’re not together, obviously.”But why didn’t he askherto be the fake fiancée?I think, the voice in my head whinier than anything I’d ever actually verbalize. Aiden nods back, leans down to say something to his companion, who smiles widely in my direction. Of course, she has fucking dimples! She saves livesandhas dimples. She probably bakes and does crafts, like with all that antique-looking paper I didn’t have for my guilt jar. “Maybe I should go to the bathroom,” I say, watching as Dimples makes her way over, tugging a reluctant Aidenby his forearm.
“God hates a coward,Z,” says Greer.
“You’re supposed to be theniceone,” I snap, but my eyes don’t leave Aiden’s. I don’t know him well, but I feel like I see something there—embarrassment or apology—and this gives me what I need to straighten my spine, to tip my chin up. I don’t have to be Miss America here.
“Hi, I’m Charlie,” says Dimples, and I hold my beer a little tighter, right around its sweaty neck. “And you’re Aiden’s fiancée!”
I look toward him, panicked, unsure of what to do now. Is this not a person he’s with? Do people outside of Stanton Valley think this engagement is real? Am I supposed to do something fiancée appropriate here, to keep the ruse going? I slide from my stool and stand, about to go to him, but he says, “She knows,” before I can humiliate myself, I guess, by trying to greet himaffectionately.
“Right.” I stick out my hand, all business, and she shakesit vigorously.
“You must be some kind ofsaint,” she says, still shaking. I’m trying not to stare, or gape, or reveal anything on my face that suggests how profoundly confused I am about why any woman would date a man who is faking an engagement for the next month and a half.
“Oh, I—well. I am not.” But Charlie’s moved on, shaking hands with Kit and Greer before turning back to Aiden and saying, “Budweiser?”
She knows his beer!I’m indignant for no sane reason whatsoever.
“Doesn’t even look like this placeservesregular beer,” he grumbles.
“Hey,” I say, defensive. “This isa good place.”
“He’s in a bad mood,” Charlie says. “Our last run was arepeat caller.”
“Charlie, stop.” Aiden’s voice is low and serious, but Charlie rolls her eyes, and I envy that too, the shorthand they seem to have together, the kind Aiden wanted no part of with me.
“Let’s just say someone’s got a big crush on their friendly local paramedic. She was wearing a new nightgown, Aiden. Did you notice?” Charlie’s eyes are full of mischief, and I am less ashamed than I should be for hating her so much just from this tiny glimpse of her closeness with Aiden.
Aiden stares at the ground, shaking his head wordlessly.
“Aiden,” I say, and he looks up immediately, right into my eyes, setting off a shower of sparks in my middle that I try to tamp down, since I’m pretty sure I’m standing next to his actual girlfriend. “These are my friends that I told you about,Kit and Greer.”
“Hey,” he says, shaking their hands, giving them a dose of that eye contact that half stuns me, and even though I know Kit is as loyal as it comes, I’m pretty sure she bats her eyelashes at him, and Greer’s mouth is open a little. Traitors, both of them. If they expect to get more conversation out of him, they’re going to be disappointed, because as far as I know Aiden is about as talkative as Kenneth.
I can’t take the way Kit and Greer are staring at him, probably devising a list of ten to fifteen questions they have about him personally and about our ridiculous arrangement, so I decide to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, the conversational control I have around Aiden is like a two on a scale of one to one million. “This is, um,” I say, awkwardly, “a place we come to. A lot. You probably don’t, right? Because we would have seen you, I’m sure. We come here a lot.”
“You said,” he answers, and I’m not sure—I’ll probably have to consult with Dimples Charlie on this—but is Aiden maybe…teasingme a little?
The moment is interrupted by the arrival of a man even bigger than Aiden, also in uniform, who slaps Aiden on the back and says, “Sorry, stoppedand got food.”
“We came here toeat,” says Aiden, his voice disbelieving.
“There’s a good taco stand around the corner.” He shrugs, then looks at me and smiles, white teeth beneath his black beard, his eyes crinkling genially. “Hi,” he says, sticking out a hand. “I’m Ahmed.”
“This is Zoe,” Aiden snaps, before I can say anything.
“No shit?” Ahmed pumps my hand in his. “You’re beautiful.”
