Page 14 of The Fake Dating War

“They want the best for me.”

“Being in a relationship isn’t everything.”

“Tell that to the Indian culture. If I’m not married and popping out babies, my life isn’t moving forward.”

“So you told them you had a boyfriend to shut them up?”

I shrug, feeling my face burn, admitting this out loud. What kind of grown woman needs to lie to her family like this? Why can’t I stand proudly and declare,This is me. This is my life.

But no, I didn’t do that. I said whatever I could to make them stop talking like that. To make it so they weren’t concerned enough to visit the city I live in. My excuses have run so ragged trying to avoid that from happening at all costs. I needed to give them some reassurance that I was thriving, so that’s what I did.

Leo gets up. Is he going to say I put myself in this situation? That it’s better to share the truth and come clean before the wedding starts next week? How lying to your family isn’t the answer?

He stops by my desk and nods. “Makes sense.”

He says he’ll see me tomorrow and leaves, promising to have date options by then.

I’m speechless.

He said… it makes sense?

A friend’s complete acceptance. I wrap the feeling around me like a shawl. It keeps me working hard for the rest of the day, and even if my very bones feel aged by the time I’m logging out, I’m smiling.

But then the elevator incident happens.

11

REEMA

That evening, Coleman and I were the last ones out of the office. I’m not surprised. At six fifteen, the cleaner usually comes around and bumps their vacuum into his desk and then swoops around to do the same to mine. If we ignore thosepolitesuggestions, flickering lights are warning enough that they are locking up, and that if we don’t leave, we’ll be stuck here together until the next morning.

Mr.Davies doesn’t care what acrobatic feats we do to win clients during office hours, but he lost a close friend to burn-out, so he doesn’t approve any overtime. He’s been known to go around the office and talk about that trauma, pausing very pointedly near our desks, warning us about it.

Not a problem, Mr.Davies…

Cue a mental image of sweat streaming down my face. The thought of him finding out what I’ve been doing in my evenings makes me dread. I can’t be found out. It’s only for a little longer, I tell myself. Then I’ll never work like this again. No one has to know what I’ve done as long as I win this once.

For even if I wasn’t afraid of consequences from Mr.Davies, what I’m putting my body through is catching up to me. When I leave my desk tonight, I feel more of a mess than normal. Hair is falling out of my bun-loop, but I don’t have the energy to redo my floppy hairstyle. I’m crashing and it doesn’t help that I skipped lunch today, because I didn’t want to get off an important client call.Amateur move, Reema.

My blood sugar isn’t where it should be. My hand gropes through the pockets of my jacket, but nothing comes up. Dammit, I ate all the candy I usually store there, and I’m strangely devastated by that.

Trying to get home as quickly as possible, I jog to the elevator and hit the close button over and over again. Doors start sliding shut, but a palm interrupts them.

Coleman.

He squeezes himself inside, and when he folds his arms across his chest, the muscles move in a way that dries my throat. He needs to skip arm day at the gym…and leg day… and shoulder day… back day…all the damn days.

“Nice try, Patel.”

“Not everything is about you,” I tell him dully. I focus hard on staying upright when Coleman tells me I should expect another client transfer form from him soon. He names the business.

It’s a sizable client, but winning them doesn’t move his score close to the forty-nine million my portfolio is secretly sitting at. Not that I have enough energy to feel relieved right now. I’ve pushed past my limits, and I need rest before I come back to the parking lot tonight.

Coleman’s eyes look over at me for a long moment. “You’re abnormally quiet.”

“Not really. I always ignore you.”

“Thinking about all your dates?”

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