Page 21 of Love You Truly

“Soccer player, huh? Did Mary tell you they call soccer players footballers where she comes from?”

The twin lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Like a million times.”

“A kid has to learn.” Mary puts her hands on her hips and ushers me over to a picnic table a few feet from where the kids are absorbed in their art. “What’s this?” She gestures to the bag.

“Brought you some reinforcements.” Holding the bakery bag up, I lean on the edge of the table.

Her eyes dance. “I assume some are for the lads, but I might not tell ’em and eat them all myself instead.”

“You do you.” I’d never begrudge her a dozen cookies.

A bluebird flits in and out of one of the small wooden houses perched atop the old fence that separates the backyard from the field behind our property. Autumn Lake spans a couple hundred acres and abuts the backs of homes on the street running perpendicular to us. So even though we’re technically next door neighbors to the twins’ family, we don’t live on the same street, and it’s a fairly long walk from door to door.

“You want some coffee? I’ll make a fresh pot.”

“No, I can’t stay. Just dropping off your afternoon sugar rush, and then I need to get back to plotting world domination. Or at least finishing up my business plan.” I unroll the bakery bag and realize I’ve had the top in a death grip, though I can’t imagine why. The paper is smushed and mangled, and Mary notices all of it. Fortunately, the cookies have been spared.

Mary nods. “Is this when I tell you what I think about your little charade from last night?”

After Felix left, I told her to zip it. The whole episode left me so worn out that we agreed to just throw a few more darts and enjoy the night. Of course, I couldn’t get a darn dart anywhere close to the bullseye. That’s how rattled Felix makes me. To say nothing of my fake fiancé.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Seriously, it must’ve been the beer. And now I somehow agreed to a date with the guy who already blew me off once. Clearly disinterested and now he’s just preparing to rub it in.”

“I disagree with that last part. He fancied you. That was obvious.”

I stop fidgeting with the bakery bag and sink into a cushion atop one of the benches flanking a picnic table. Mary takes the bag from me and rips it open down the center, turning it into a placemat for the dozen cookies that spill out. Glancing in the direction of the twins, who are still absorbed in working on their paintings, Mary swipes a cookie and takes a large bite.

“Oh, this is a proper biscuit. Thank you.” She takes another bite before swallowing the first one, and I realize she probably skipped lunch.

“Lemme guess. You didn’t eat with the boys?”

She makes a face, somewhere between disbelief and a wince. “I don’t fancy peanut butter, and that’s all those boys eat.” She pops the last of the cookie into her mouth and bustles off to the house, calling behind her, “Gonna be the death of me.”

I break off a corner of one cookie and pop it into my mouth. Even the delicious bite of the dark chocolate chips and the bits of sea salt sprinkled on top don’t improve my mood. Mary returns with a pitcher of water and a stack of plastic cups. She pours for each of us.

“I need to get back to work.” I say the words, but somehow my body stays fixed at the table.

Mary grins at me through chocolate-stained teeth. “What you ought to do is find a man. Marry a bloke just like your mother wants and it’ll invalidate Felix’s claim on you and your property. Your parents can pin their hopes on a new guy, and meanwhile, you’ll be free to run the business. Like in that show.”

I’ll never be able to keep up with Mary’s obsession with classic American TV shows.

“Which show?”

“The one with early Pierce Brosnan. Remington Steele, I think it was? She wants to run a detective agency, but no one takes her seriously so she invents a front man and names him Remington Steele. Then a real dude with that name shows up, and he’s lovely to look at, so she keeps him as the man candy and does all the real work herself.”

“I feel like there’s something sexist and sad about that.”

“Of course there is. That’s the beauty!”

“And you think I should use this as a model for my life.”

“Edit as you see fit. You already convinced Dash to be your fiancé for a night. Just take it to the next level. With him as your husband instead of Felix, you’d be trading up.”

“I don’t even know him.” I say it as though that’s the only problem with her ridiculous plan. “Not to mention, he might’ve been okay messing around in a bar in front of Felix, but I doubt he wants a wife. And I don’t want a husband.”

I’m drawn back to when he said the words “my wife,” and my nerve endings caught fire.

Maybe it’s the stress of the situation or the idea of being hitched to a man I barely know, but the idea makes me laugh so hard it brings tears to my eyes. “Ah, thank you for that. It’s so nice to feel an emotion other than stress for a hot minute.”

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