Page 14 of Yours Temporarily

I choose not to voice these thoughts. Instead, I focus on his apparent intrusion. “I didn’t know anyone was taking pictures.” Lacing my hands in my lap, I lean back in my chair. I was too “busy” getting to know Zuri to notice who was doing what, let alone someone taking pictures. “If anything, you should be questioning the person who gave you this picture. They took it without Zuri’s or my permission.”

His anger doesn’t abate. He rants about how innocent and trusting his sister is as if to imply I’m some bad boy unworthy of her. It stings, but I keep my composure. I’m not about to discuss my arrangement with Zuri. If only to mention our time in her café two days ago.

My cheeks heat. Was I wrong to enjoy her company? What about how my stomach bubbles up in her presence? I pick up a pen, needing a distraction because Damien might have a good reason to be terrified about the photo.

“You invited me to your party, remember?” It’s not my fault his sister and I hit it off. Making my pen spin in my hands, I continue playing it cool while transitioning into my boss mode. “You should be proud of your sister for being a great host. Now if you might excuse me, I was in the middle of a meeting when you interfered.”

Damien grits his teeth, fists his hands, and tosses his head back. Whatever he wants to say, he holds his tongue. To be fair, I suggest he make an appointment with Jill if he’d like more time to talk about whatever’s eating him up. “At the office, I can only handle work-related matters.” Which he already knows.

His chest rises and falls. Then he gives a curt nod, which I take as an apology. He storms out and leaves the photo on my desk. I’m not sure if he meant to leave it, but I smile as I look at it again. It’s a snapshot of what Zuri and I could be—a couple who enjoys each other’s company. We’re not involved romantically. Still, I can’t deny the comfort between us, the attraction. I’ll stick to the familiarity with her, glad I chose her as my fake wedding date. I had to call and apologize to Clarissa when I declined to meet her for dinner, ending our awkward conversation with an “I’ll see you around.”

Maybe it’s Damien’s accusation or the picture itself, but as I look at it, excitement bubbles within me. Okay, it’s just fake. Two months until I get through my brother’s wedding, and our lives go back to normal—my normal is work. I tried a relationship, putting myself out there, only to get scarred. Plus, Zuri isn’t looking for a relationship either, which works out perfectly for both of us.

***

On Sunday afternoon, the golf course becomes our sanctuary away from the office’s relentless pace. The breeze whispers through the towering eucalyptus trees, a soothing backdrop as Nico, Wes, and I approach the par three tee box. Best friends and colleagues, we’ve turned these outings into our weekly ritual, a precious respite unless work demands my attention.

“Ah! Jeremy, my boy.” Nico, lean from hours of cycling and always animated, stretches his arms like a bird preparing for flight. His eyes, bright with mischief, scan me. “You have a three-point advantage, but I feel a win coming on. Are you ready to lose today?”

I grasp my 6-iron, the sleek metal cool and familiar in my hands, and give it an effortless twirl. “Every week you say that, Nico.”

“And every week he ends up buying dinner.” Wes winks. His dark hair shines in the afternoon sun. Unlike Nico’s flamboyance, Wes’s calmness often masks his sharp wit.

Nico’s laugh, hearty and infectious, echoes across the green expanse. “And who ends up footing the bill when we take to the biking trails, huh?”

“You bike to work every day. It’s only natural you’d outpace us.” I give the distant flag a quick study and tee up my ball. The other two fall silent.

The ball soars through the air, a perfect arc against the blue sky, and lands close to the hole. “Yes!” I pump the club in the air, then step aside so Nico can tee up. “I found a date for my brother’s wedding.”

“Ah, the mysterious lady stirring whispers in the copy rooms?”

My heart skips a beat while Nico prepares his shot. What? Surely, Damien didn’t leave a copy of our photo in one of the copy rooms.

Nico tees up and swings. His ball falls short of the green. He turns with a frown. “Damien’s sister, right?”

Wes, usually the observer, nods. “That would make sense. You mentioned she was the only approachable person at that party.”

“She’s nice.” I admit it more to myself than to them. Trusting, as Damien put it.

Wes takes his shot, his perfect form a testament to his disciplined nature.

After following the asphalt cart path to the green, Wes and I wait, putters in hand, for Nico to make his approach shot.

I clear my throat. “She’s agreed to be my pretend fiancée. It’s a temporary arrangement until Gavin’s wedding is over. But…” Talking about Zuri brings an unexpected warmth to my chest.

“A fake fiancée you get along with.” Wes’s eyes narrow. “That’s quite an interesting choice.”

“She’s different.” My fondness seeps into my tone. “Besides being passionate about her café, she’s genuine, kind, and wants to give back to the community.” My gaze drifts to the horizon, and I’m lost in thoughts of her. “She’s perfect for this… arrangement. Best it’s someone I get along with, I guess.”

I’m the last to putt. As I tap the ball and it rolls into the hole, I can’t shake the feeling that, with Zuri, it could be more than just a charade. There was a certain force of nature between us, specifically during our food fight, something that had my fingers linger a tad longer on her soft cheek while I dusted flour from her face. Ideas of what could have be spun in my mind.

Then she stopped by on Friday, surprising me with fruit and vegetables. “Thought you could use some snacks throughout the day, Mr. Workabee.” She placed the containers on the coffee table in my office, then talked me into grabbing lunch at Simply Thai across the street. Funny, it hadn’t been a struggle to drop my work to have lunch with her. If only I was ready to embrace something real, though.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say, you have a thing for your yet-to-be-fake fiancée.” Nico, always one to speak everything that comes into his mind, points his putter at me.

“I’m not.” My words come out too weak. Would I even know what falling in love feels like anymore? It’s been a long time since I had that excitement of first falling in love.

The air cools our faces as Wes maneuvers our cart toward the next tee box. He gives me a curious gaze. “Don’t you think this arrangement could get complicated?”

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