“We’re not.” I cough, doing my best to cover before James cross-examines me like he’s missed his calling as a lawyer. “And we won’t ever be.”
Another tut from James. “A true shame. I thought you might hit it off for a quick fling.”
“Well, we’re much better at hitting reefs than each other, what can I say? Bar collisions aside.” My face warms. If only we had ended up tangled in Stefanos’ bed instead of what happened. Everything would be a secret, and nobody would even know except Stef that I’d gone to Greece, and we would have been up a hot few days together in Kerkyra despite January’s chill.
James laughs with delight. “Misplaced priorities, I’m afraid. What a missed opportunity. Instead, you’ve made quite the incident together.”
“Yeah, well. So. Now I’m here. Trying to get my bearings again.” I give him a meaningful look. Then the pizza arrives, and we set to the important business of eating. At least that keeps him from asking more questions about Stefanos and me.
After some loaded pepperoni pizza, James gives me a significant look across the table. “So, speaking of the present, that’s why I’m here.”
“Aside from the free pizza and my company?”
“You now need to do some serious damage control.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me. I’m trying to enjoy my meal.”
“After I saw what I saw online, I took the decision to step forward the plan,” James informs me with authority.
“Plan?” I ask with alarm. I set my half-eaten pizza slice down on the plate. “What plan? There is no plan.”
James solemnly raises a hand to stop me like he’s directing traffic around a diversion. Then, he taps on his phone. “There is, in fact, a plan. Which I’ve very kindly made for you. I’m sending you the itinerary right now.”
“James, I’m not planning on more trips anytime soon if I can help it.”
“You’re not going far. Just look at your schedule, please. In fact, it would be shockingly rude not to.”
“Okay, fine.” Reluctantly, I pick up my phone and open his message. There’s an itinerary, as promised, labeled Plan for Theo like I’m some kind of project. Taking a deep breath, I open it. The first line reads: Date #1, Martin @ Soul. Followed ominously by Tomorrow, 7pm.
I blink and lower my phone. “What is this?” I demand.
James grins broadly, obviously pleased with himself, and my alarm grows.
“I don’t think I want to know who Martin or Soul are,” I inform him.
“Martin is a very nice friend of a friend, and Soul is a fabulous London restaurant you must be seen at. And where you will meet Martin for dinner. Perfect optics. You’re welcome.”
The groan comes unbidden. An air-deflating sort of groan, the sound of my rapidly deflating spirits.
“Operation Fake Dating begins,” James declares, “because frankly, you need all the help you can get right now.”
“You need a way more secret project code name than that. And no. We joked about it before, but I can’t see how this is any kind of good idea.”
“It’s a brilliant idea,” James assures me without an iota of hesitation, as if he’s a master matchmaker, something he’s wildly unqualified for. “Believe me. And he’s a mate of Frankie’s, so he comes prescreened, don’t worry.”
I give him a suspicious look. “And who, exactly, is Martin?”
“Martin McDonald-Wise. A banker from a very respectable family.”
“James. Of all the kinds of boring people out there you could choose from.”
“Bankers, I’m afraid, need fake love too.” James nods with purpose. He sits back in his seat. “Just like you do. Nothing could go wrong. Tomorrow. You’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
No well-timed disasters befall me ahead of this evening’s fake blind date. Well, the blind part is real enough. What could be worse? I guess maybe sinking someone’s yacht, for starters. I stare at my morose reflection in my phone one last time as I adjust the collar of my Gucci shirt. In an effort to distract myself, I saw my stylist earlier, who brought my hair color back to its original brown in an effort to help me make over my image as positively demure.
I flip through my messages, seeing Aidan’s latest text. I sigh.
