Page 38 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
“I don’t know,” I said finally, opting for the truth. “I can’t now, obviously.”
“No, not obviously. Why can’t you take a vacation?”
“Because.” I waved at the computer screen and the workflow as if to say, duh. “Work is crazy. Things are too busy right now.”
“That’s exactly why you need a vacation. The point of a vacation is to escape life when it’s hectic.”
“Wow,” I deadpanned. “How profound. That should be in a fortune cookie. You got any other sage advice for me?”
“Okay,” he said, letting out a small laugh and pushing his food around with his fork. Message received. He looked ready to drop the issue. Then he put the fork down and looked at me with an awfully serious expression for someone who’d said he couldn’t work because he was enjoying his chicken too much. “It’s just—you seem like you need a break.”
I sighed. “Everyone needs a break.” I decided to change the direction of the conversation before either of us could delve too far into my unhealthy work relationship and my need to excel, even if it meant hating every minute of my job. “I’ll get one this weekend. I won’t be working the entire time—can’t.”
“Why not? You got a hot date?” I’m sure he meant the questions to come out as light and playful, but the tightness in his voice was just shy of jovial.
“No.” I squinted, waiting for the reason to hit him. Why he would also be busy. But his expression remained blank. “Your sister’s shower, remember?”
“Oh! That. Yeah, that explains why I’ll be busy this Saturday. But . . . do brides usually invite their calligraphers to their showers?”
“No. Your sister is having me do live lettering as part of the party favors.”
“And that is what exactly?” he asked before taking another bite of his dinner.
“It’s doing calligraphy on site. In this case, she’s having me letter on Capiz shells.” Before he could ask me what the hell those were, I explained, “Little round shells.” I made a circle with my fingers. “Pearly, opaque. Anyway, I’m there to personalize the shells in whatever way the guests request. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” I thought of how Beck had taken a day off work to help Victoria with her company. “I got the impression you two are close.”
“We are.” He tilted his head to the side and gave a devastatingly handsome half-smile. “But she, mercifully, leaves me out of most wedding plans.” Then the smile slid off his face and he sat up, straight and stiff. “You are going to be at the shower.” I could all but see a lightbulb above his head. “And are you going to the wedding?”
“The one in Costa Rica?” I scoffed. “No.”
“But you could go.”
My eyebrows scrunched. “Why would I do that?” I took a long sip of Coke, waiting for him to answer.
“Because you can be my date.”
I had to choke down the gulp of Coke to keep it from spraying all over my laptop. “What?” I asked around a coughing fit.
“You said it yourself. Having a date for the shower and wedding would show I’ve moved on.”
“I meant someone else.” I was still coughing up carbonation. “Not me!”
“It wouldn’t be a real date.” He put up his hands. “Just for pretend.”
“Beck—”
“Victoria already thinks we have a history together from that incredibly weird interaction outside her office.” I rolled my eyes, but he continued. “I’ll tell her things rekindled when I dropped the mirror off at your apartment. And now we’re seeing each other.” He laughed as if amused by how naturally the narrative unrolled. “Think about it. It makes sense.”
“None of it makes sense, Beck. Is Victoria going to take kindly to you dating her calligrapher?”
“I don’t think she’ll care as long as things aren’t awkward between her best friend and her brother.”
I folded my arms over my chest as I looked back at all the pieces Beck had given me, sorting them to see where they best fit. “Let me get this straight. You are asking me to fake date you until after the wedding? Because that’s three weeks of acting.”
“No. It would only be for the shower and the wedding. Two evenings, tops. We go back to normal when at the office. It’s just a show for my sister.”
“And your ex. It’s a show for her too. What was her name?” I snapped my fingers as it came to me. “Reagan.”
Beck shrugged. “Sure, whatever you say.”
