Page 10 of The Fake Dating War

I glance over my shoulder. Leo is pulling out his phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Setting up your dating profile.”

Before I can argue that this is some convoluted way to get me on the app, he says, “Do you have any other option left?”

No, I don’t.

Showing up alone to the wedding… There are so many reasons I can’t bear the thought of it. If I stop working for a second and think about them, I’ll get anxious. So, I don’t think about that happening. I don’t think about failing. It’s not going to happen to me. All I have to do is keep going. That’s the answer to so many of my problems.

Keep going. It will get better eventually if you keep pushing yourself forward. Soon your whole life will reset.

Leo taps his phone screen, fingers moving at rapid speed.

Finder, it is.

How bad could modern dating be?

7

REEMA

You might think the timing of my sister’s wedding sucks.

That’s because it does.

Many Indian-Punjabi weddings are massively lavish affairs. My sister’s celebration is not going to be any different. It’s a full week of festivities stuffed with traditions, old and new. Henna will be drawn on hands, turmeric paste will be spread on feet, and an overly large rangoli will be patterned on the floor with colored rice. That’s some of the old traditions. A new one? My sister is going to hire a massive limo party-bus to drive us around after the official wedding ceremony, so we can cheer and drink while the bride and groom take their photos in a forest.

For the wedding of the century—her words—to be perfect, it has taken sixteen months to plan. The date for her wedding was set before Mr.Davies’ new bonus incentive program was even brainstormed. I had no idea it would all overlap.

Unfortunately, my sister has dibs. Even if her wedding is smack-dab in the middle of everything I’ve been working towards this year, there is no way I can’t show up. No excuse will work with my family.

Even if we weren’t close (we are) and hated each other, Esha would still blame me for skipping it. Because then, all her guests wouldn’t be reveling and jealous of all the opulence she’s planned, but would be gossiping about where theothersister is. You know, the one who basically disappeared two years ago.

So, where does that leave me with work?

Looking at the scoreboard, I should be falling apart with stress.

With Coleman’s portfolio already beating mine, taking the final week off from work is like falling on my own sword. It should be and would have been, if two months ago I hadn’t figured out a solution.

After work, I go home. Shower. Eat.

Then I drive back to the parking lot of the office, open up the discount laptop I bought from a cheap electronic store, and I log into my recruitment system and keep working. The office is closed, but if I park in the closest spot on the shadowed east side of the building, I snag enough network connection and can authenticate myself to pass FINAN’s firewalls.

I’ve been doing this for the last forty days and not logging the extra clients into our system. Coleman thinks I’m at twenty-one million dollar client portfolio.

Working and exhausting myself to the bone, I’m at forty-five million.

Forty-fucking-five.

That’s the only reason I feel comfortable enough to take next week off. Okay, I’m not comfortable. I wish my sister wasn’t getting married right before the finish line of Mr.Davies’ bonus program. I may have even asked her to move the date in a moment of weakness.

She wouldn’t, but that’s okay.

I’ve worked around it.

When I come back from this wedding, it’s the last day of our financial year, and I am going to log in all of those clients at once. Thinking about it now, I grin. Coleman is going to be so pissed. I can imagine his green eyes flashing with fury, and his jaw is going to tighten into that hard, defined line. I can practically hear the agitated noises he is going to make between his perfect teeth. Maybe he’ll bracket those arms against my desk and tower over me again. Not that I’ve dreamt of that scenario happening in little or great detail.

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