Page 38 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

Did I really expect Roman to be the same person after all these years? Did I expect myself to be? When I think of when we tried to get reacquainted, I can’t say it went well. I love him, but not in the same way.

Until this moment, I’ve never compiled the assessment into a coherent thought, much less said it out loud. A painful lump of reality forms in my chest.

“Instead of sticking together as we grew older,” I say, “he walked down one path and I took another. We drifted apart.”

“But you have hunky Nathan now and you seem happy. Is he a good guy?”

“We haven’t been dating long, but he seems like a good guy.”

When he’s not playing the devil on my shoulder.

And when I think of the time we’ve spent together, enthusiastic flutters fill my stomach, so I guess he makes me happy.

Sophia picks up her glass of champagne and sips. “He really likes you.”

“How do you know?” Avoiding her gaze, I play with the belt of my bathrobe.

“The way he admires you when you’re not paying attention. The way he touches you when you’re close. The way he talks about you. It’s like absolute reverence.”

“That’s . . . that’s . . .” It’s pretend, I remind myself. Then I latch onto something else she mentioned. “He talks about me?”

“He told Kayla he’s never met anyone like you. He said you’re a beautiful badass and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world.”

My toes curl. The technician taps my foot, reminding me not to move.

Then I remember Nathan and I practically humped each other on the beach. I don’t even know what came over me. It’s like I couldn’t help myself.

I touch the chilled champagne flute to my bottom lip and then take a sip to cool myself. It only makes my face clammy. Suddenly hot, I flap the lapel of my bathrobe.

After analyzing all my questionable interactions with Nathan, I’m realizing the line between us has blurred. Nathan plays the part of my lover so well, our connection is starting to feel real.

Do I want to fake-date Nathan plus benefits? Would that make me happy?

I haven’t thought about what would make me happy in a long time; I’ve been too busy catering to everyone else in my life. So much so, I’ve lost all sense of my own ambitions and desires.

Sophia and I continue chatting until our toenail polish dries. Eventually, aestheticians guide each of the bridesmaids to their own rooms. We decided to try different treatments so we could compare.

I disrobe and climb onto the padded massage table, stomach down, face pressed through a hole. The aesthetician knocks and enters. She covers my back and legs with sheets, leaving my back end exposed for my “fanny facial.”

“I’ll be right back and then we’ll start,” she says. The door snaps closed.

In the silence, my eyes sink shut, and I try to imagine the life that would make me happy. Though deciding what to see doesn’t come easily. It’s like an unexercised muscle that needs stretching. Yes, I’ve done little things for myself, taken cooking or art classes, but nothing big-picture. Everything in my life has been firmly in place without room for deviation.

Trying harder, I relax my jaw and drop my shoulders. After a few deep breaths, random images cross my mind like a brainstorming session.

There are palm trees, sunshine, and beautiful vistas on long vacations. I could take up a sport, rescue a pet, or work at the shelter. These are great ideas, but nothing life-altering.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” I say, my eyes still closed.

The door opens and the aesthetician slips inside.

“That view never disappoints,” a deep voice says.

“Nathan?” I ninja roll off the table, wrapping myself in the sheet as I go, trying to avoid Boobs, The Movie, Part Two. I land in a guarded position, my back against the wall.

I scowl at him. “You’ve seen me naked—twice!”