Page 59 of Rory Rides Her Fake Fiancé
When I walk in, Princess greets me exuberantly, and Rory gives me a chin dip. She recounts the whole story to me, and I tell her about the phone calls from my mom and brother. So far, I haven’t responded, and the texts got increasingly aggressive, claiming I need to give the car back and that I’ve “stolen” it from my brother.
I stopped reading them.
“I guess they found out about the car,” I remark.
Rory shrugs. “What are they gonna do? You bought it fair and square.”
I snort. “Steal the car back. It was smart to make it undriveable.” Last I checked, Rory had done a bit of work on the car, but not much. She’d brought a few tools from her apartment and the car was currently jacked up and the two front tires were removed, in addition to all the work she’d done when we’d first brought it home. “It’ll take a lot more than breaking in and hot-wiring the car to get it out of there.”
“Are you gonna call them back?”
I look off to the side, thinking. Mom was harsh enough the last time we talked, complaining that I even dared to collect the money from my brother. How could you? He’s your family.
Skin touches skin, and I look down. Rory’s reached out to pull my hand away from my ribs, where I’ve been unconsciously rubbing my tattoo.
The snake.
“No,” I say, my voice rough. “I’m not going to call them back.”
Rory nods, decisively. “Wanna order pizza and watch a movie?”
I don’t know if she’s trying to cheer me up or if she’s just diverting the conversation, but it works. “Hell yeah.”
Forty-five minutes later we’ve argued about and compromised on a movie, and I’ve picked up a pizza from Parthenope’s Pies. We eat while we watch the action-packed flick, and when there’s only a few slices of pizza left, Rory pushes her plate away and reclines, her head on the arm of the couch, and invites Princess to come up. My dog settles into her spot between Rory and the back of the couch, and Rory stretches out, her socked feet coming to rest on my thighs.
This is pretty great. Coming home from work, having a quiet night with the woman of my dreams—even if she is only my fake fiancée—and the best dog ever.
I rest my hands on Rory’s feet and then start to rub. She hums in appreciation and I get more into it, digging my thumbs into the arches of her feet and gently pulling at her toes, a soft tease.
After a few minutes, I look up at Rory, and she’s got her eyes closed instead of watching the TV. Her hair, which is down, has some chunks draped over the arm of the couch. Others cover Princess’s head and fly up with each exhale from my dog’s nose.
I pinch the tip of her left sock and then tug. It’s a crew style, so it comes off quickly and I’m left staring in surprise and pleasure.
“What are you—” Rory interrupts herself, jacking up and trying to withdraw her foot from me. Princess barks and hops off the couch behind Rory’s back, tail wagging and body starting to wiggle.
“No, no, no,” I say, tightening my hold on her foot. “What is this? Are these . . . flowers?”
Rory squirms, and I turn my body, blocking her hands from pushing me away. Princess chuffs more, bouncing on her paws, thinking it’s playtime.
“They are flowers. Your big toes have flowers on them.”
“Morgan!”
I laugh. “They’re even pink. How have you been hiding these from me?”
“Let go!” She gasps, but she’s starting to laugh too. Her hands are still pushing at me though, so I lean into it, fighting against her until she gives up, her arms going from stiff to loose, and the lack of force against me causes my body to fall onto her.
I let go of her foot and catch myself on the couch, holding myself up over her. Rory’s smiling, her eyes twinkling with laughter, and I love the way she looks when she’s playing with me. I glance at her lips, thinking about how I would really like to kiss her now, if she’d let me.
But she doesn’t. The laughter gets snuffed out, her lips compress together, her smile disappearing, and I inwardly sigh and push myself away.
Suddenly the space is too small. I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t sit back down as if nothing’s happened, as if we’re just roommates or pretending.
I’m not pretending.
I’ve never been.
I stand and Princess looks up at me, giving me an excuse.
