Page 113 of The Fake Dating War

HAHAHA.

What a horrible joke.

He walks my parents over to me. Bebe’s face pinches at the intrusion, especially when she spots Harry. She rolls herself away, joining Serena, who is also a few steps away.

“It’s been too long,” croons Harry, trying to go for an embrace.

I’m frozen. I let him do it.

“And who is this?” he asks, pulling back, gesturing at Jake.

“My—” I can’t finish the sentence.

“Boyfriend,” says my mother, gladly stepping in for me.

Harry and Jake don’t shake hands. Tension ratchets between them.

Someone laughs nervously.

“So you’re the new one?” says Harry, as if I’ve had so many boyfriends or as if I’ve duped Jake into being with me. Either meaning is insulting.

My mother takes it upon herself to recount the great week Harry missed out on, how all my friends and family are happier than ever that I’ve found Jake, and that he’s been fitting perfectly into our family.

The more my mother gushes, the stonier Jake looks. I’m getting sicker, too.

It’s such a show of trying to prove I’m at the right place in my life, and that I’m not a thing to be pitied. Magic, wonder and fate are spun around my life as if it’s all happened for a purpose to lead to this moment. Jake is buoyed as the perfect antidote against the track record of my divorce. Harry can’t look at me and laugh. I’m not a loser.

This is what I wanted, right?

Except I could give a flying fuck about impressing Harry right now. My teeth are grinding with outrage. How dare he come to the reception? How dare he show his face as if he can still be around my family and friends? Also, I’m nauseated because what is going through Jake’s head? I can’t let him think this is what I care about. That he’s a game I’ve played to prop myself up. That’s not what we are any more!

“Be careful,” says Harry, interrupting my mother. He’s facing Jake. “She’s a handful.”

Jake stirs. The first sign of life.

Green eyes go glacial. There’s an expression on his face I’ve never seen before. It makes Harry take a step back, which as soon as he notices he’s done that, he looks pissed off at himself. Before Harry can recover, a man calls out his name.

We can’t forget there are guests milling about. Jyoti is handling most of them, but this man strides toward us.

He’s visibly distinguished by the amount of pommade in his beard, the ornate cane he holds, and the neatly tied turban he wears. Each layer of cloth is crisp and of equal width around his forehead, the emerald color matching the exact tone of his pocket square and socks. He seems the sort who is very intentional about everything in his life, almost as a matter of mental health. His teeth are so symmetrical I suspect they’ve been shaped that way or high-quality veneers are involved.

He stops beside Harry, who laughs and hugs him boisterously.

“This is who I’ve been looking for,” says Harry. He clasps the man on the shoulder. “Patels, you might have been wondering why I’ve come tonight. Obviously to catch up with my favorite family since it’s been too long, but Mr.Singh told me he was attending, so I had to come.” He turns to my dad. “You know Tarun Singh, right uncle?”

“Of course I do,” my dad grunts. “He’s my college best mate from India. How do you know him?”

“We’re business partners. Or we will be soon.”

I laugh. So loudly. “Youare going to be trusted with money?”

Everyone stares at me. I don’t hide. Nowhere to be found is the woman who let herself be kicked out of the apartment before she could walk out herself.

“What is she talking about?” asks Mr.Singh. He glances around the group as if hoping to find an answer. All of a sudden, he visibly startles. “Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn’t see you there, Mr.Coleman.”

What?I turn to Jake. “How do you two know each other?”

“He’s a recruiting agent for FINAN,” answers Mr.Singh. “The consulting agency my firm is thinking of partnering with.”

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