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“Because you’d say no? Because you wouldn’t even consider it, maybe? Because you haven’t been near a woman in the last three years?”

Strictly, that isn’t true. I’ve been with a few women and been on a handful of dates, but they’ve all ended very quickly—too quickly for me to even tell Smithy about. Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted to get his hopes up.

I put the pan to the side and clear my throat. “You don’t know Alice,” I tell him, a little hurt by his dig.

“No, you’re right. I don’t,” Smithy says. “But I’d like to.”

I dash him a look.

His mouth morphs into a dastardly grin. “Invite her here next Thursday.”

“I don’t think that’s—” I begin, but Smithy cuts me off.

“It’s a great idea,” he says.

“What’s a great idea?” Romana arrives in the kitchen, her dark curls piled on top of her head, the front of her shirt soaking wet.

Smithy fills her in, and I want to hide under the table with Paul.

“So, what do you think?” Smithy asks Romana. “Do we believe Alice is that ditzy, or do we think she’s secretly in love with Owen and fabricated the whole thing just to get him to go on a date with her?”

Romana wipes at her forehead while plating up cookies and pouring glasses of milk.

“I’m not sure,” she replies. “It’s hard to say without meeting her.”

“Which is why I’ve invited her here next Thursday,” Smithy adds.

“Ah.” Romana nods. “The ‘great idea.’”

“I don’t think—” I try again, but this time, Romana cuts me off.

“There’s nothing to think about. Either way, I think it’s wonderful that you’re getting back out there, even if it is to a wedding of two people you’ve never even met. And Alice is definitely coming here on Thursday. I’ll go tell the girls. They’ll be so excited.”

“Hey, wait⁠—”

But Romana has already left the kitchen laden with strawberry milk and cookies for the girls, who, I presume, are in the living room watching TV before their bedtime story.

Smithy’s grin is ridiculously large as he pulls off his rubber gloves and pats me on the back. “I’m proud of you, man.” He beams.

“What for?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he’s going to say.

“For putting yourself back out there. It’s about time. A prime specimen like yourself.” He punches me lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m not putting myself anywhere,” I protest.

“Of course you are. Why else would you agree to pretend to be someone’s boyfriend?” Smithy follows my eyes to his worktops. “You can’t be serious.” He laughs.

“You said you’d oil them when I went out. Well, I’m going to a wedding.”

He folds his arms. “Okay, here’s the deal, seeing as my worktops are so important to you.”

“They’re real oak,” I remind him. “They need looking after; otherwise, they’re going to crack and dry out and get stained and⁠—”

“Here’s the deal,” he cuts in. “You bring Alice here next Thursday, and Romana and I will deliver the verdict on whether she’s into you. Then and only then will I oil my worktops.”

“You’re unbelievable.” I shake my head.

“Coming from the guy who’s agreed to fake-date someone just so I’ll oil my worktops.”