“Oh, no, we’re not—” I start.
“This is Madeline.” Dean finishes my sentence with the wrong answer. I was half expecting him to vehemently deny thathe even knows me. Eliza is pissed, like seriously, utterly pissed at seeing Dean sitting eating oatmeal with me. She radiates fury and fire like the sun.
“Go to hell, Dean.” She picks up her bucket of flowers and promptly marches off.
I can’t help it, but I let out a little snicker. “What in the fresh hell was that?”
“That’s Eliza,” Dean remarks, rubbing his nose.
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
“My ex…girlfriend, I guess,.”
“Does she think we’re dating?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t, but by the way she stomped off, I don’t know how she could think anything but.
“I don’t know what she thinks.”
“You need to start telling me about what the hell is going on with you now, or this isn’t going to work.” I place my hands on the table top. “You know my whole deal. It’s your turn. Now spill,” I demand.
“My mother organized a dinner between the three of us, where I was supposed to help my younger sister pick out colleges and apply for financial aid. Eliza has been tutoring her in biology.” Dean admits.
“And then you picked me up, got drunk as all hell, and didn’t show up. And then she sees you here with another woman. So of course she’s pissed at you,” I conclude.
“Essentially.” Dean takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee.
“Do you want to make up with her?” I ask.
“No. Not really,” Dean tells me.
“Can you say more than three words? I beg of you.” I can’t with this man. “Please, give me more than a crumb of information or I can’t help you.”
“Eliza is my god-mother’s daughter. They’ve been itching for us to be together since we were born. We went on a few dates,but we fundamentally disagree about everything from children to 401k’s to even fucking grenadine. I broke it off, but my mother wants me to try again, because, well, it’s her best friend’s daughter.”
I nod. I get it.
“My mother thinks I’m lonely. She won’t rest until I’m wearing a suit in a church, and it better be standing next to Eliza.” Dean shakes his head, like he just gave away his bank account number instead of the hot gossip of his love life.
“Did you try telling your mother all of this?” I suggest.
“Yes. And I broke it off with Eliza, and then she arranged that dinner.”
“Which you blew off. And you want to bring me to the next one.” I’m scratching my head here. I don’t see how I fall into this plan at all, not even a little bit. “You can’t convince your mother on your own that you’re fine?”
“I need you,” Dean admits. “I need you to meet my mother because she won’t believe I’m fine with taking a job in York Falls if I come alone. She doesn’t think I have friends, and I broke it off with Eliza because I’m a hermit.”
“And I’m the pathetic one. What’s our backstory?” I ask.
“Our what?”
“Our backstory. How did we meet? How did we fall in love?” Dean falters the moment I say it.
“What?” He says again, as if he didn’t hear me. “We don’t need a backstory. I’m going to help my sister. You’re just a bonus.”
“Will your Mother believe you if I’m just your friend?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.” I tell him. “Now, what’s our backstory?”
