Page 101 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
Mary, absolutely not.
MARY
Finn, absolutely yes. In a few days, all of Glenfield will be watching us dance. You want us to look believable as a couple? Also, my grandmother will not accept any answer other than yes.
The three little dots blink on my screen for a long moment.
I can practically picture Finn dragging a hand down his face in frustration while typing, deleting, then retyping his answer.
FINN
Alternative idea: I fake a foot injury.
MARY
Give it up. Tonight. Six p.m. Guesthouse living room. Wear comfortable shoes.
FINN
I hate you.
MARY
No, you adore me. See you tonight.
I slide my phone back into my pocket, deeply satisfied.
“You look dangerously cheerful,” Ewan comments as he returns behind the counter after serving another customer.
“I’m about to teach a grumpy Highlander how to dance. It’s basically Christmas morning.”
“You’re cruel, Mary McGregor.”
“It’s for a good cause.”
Ewan refills my coffee while looking thoughtful.
“Tell me something,” he says, leaning across the counter. “Does your grumpy doctor at least know the difference between a jig and a waltz?”
“I seriously doubt it. But I’m an excellent teacher.”
“May God help that poor man.”
“God should helpme. I’m the one who’s about to spend hours getting my feet crushed.”
Ewan laughs and goes back to work.
I finish my coffee while imagining the absolute disaster waiting to happen.
A céilidh.
Traditional dancing.
Finn and me twirling around together in front of the entire village.
The irony isn’t lost on me: we’re getting better and better at pretending to be a couple, but every step pulls us dangerously closer to a truth neither of us wants to admit.
I leave money on the counter and stand.
