April laughs, and the sound eases some of the tension that’s been building in my chest since we decided to do this.
After a moment, she asks, “What are we going to tell them?”
There it is. The question we’ve been dancing around for days.
“I don’t know. What do you want to tell them?”
“I asked you first.”
“Well …” My leg jiggles.
She fidgets with her purse strap. “We should probably be on the same page before we get there.”
“Agreed. So ... options?”
We pull into the airport parking lot, and I’m saved from answering by the chaos of unloading five dogs and their travel crates. The charter flight company we’re using is pet-friendly, but even they look slightly overwhelmed when we show up with our entourage.
“That’s a lot of dogs,” the attendant observes.
“We’re aware,” April says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I imagine she’s less concerned with how travel is going to work with the pack and more than slightly worried about meeting the parents as fake girlfriend and boyfriend.
Once we’re through security and waiting to board at the private terminal, April picks up the conversation thread like we never left it. Ordinarily, this is a good thing. But these circumstances have us both on edge. It would be so much easier to avoid the confrontation altogether. Though maybe, not in the long run. My mother is very observant. She and Badaszek could form a super alliance and conquer nations.
“Okay. Options. We tell them the truth about the fake dating.”
I consider this. “Pro: We’re not lying to my family.”
“Con: We have to explain the entire campaign, which sounds ridiculous out loud. And kind of shady. Also shallow. I mean, why would we agree to such a thing?” She scoffs as if it’s absurd. It is, but if you look at it from a lovelorn fool’s perspective, it makes perfect sense. But then I’d have to confess my feeling and that could get really messy really quick.
“It really does,” I admit. “Option two: We don’t tell them anything and let them think it’s real.”
“Pro: No awkward explanations.”
“Con: We’re lying to your family.”
We both fall silent as we’re called to get on the airplane. April takes the window seat, and I settle in beside her. We gave the dogs some calming treats and now they’re secured in the cargo area, where it’s climate-controlled and comfortable—I insisted on getting a tour when I first started using this company. Still, I can tell April is worried.
“They’ll be fine,” I assure her.
“I know. It’s just ... Purdy is still so nervous about new things.”
“She’s got Moose. He won’t let anything happen to her.” I nudge her with my elbow. If we were really dating, I’d put my arm around her, snuggle her close. What will that look like in front of my family? We didn’t draw those lines when we made up our rules.
Once we’re in the air, April says, “There’s a third option.”
“Which is?”
“We tell them we’re dating, but we don’t specify that it’s fake. We just ... let them draw their own conclusions.”
I turn to look at her, uncertainty rippling through me. “So, we don’t lie, but we don’t volunteer the whole truth either?”
“Exactly. If they ask direct questions, we answer honestly. But we don’t lead with ‘Hey, by the way, this is all a big charade for a charity campaign.’”
“That could work.”
“Or it could blow up spectacularly in our faces.”
