Page 38 of The Fake Dating War

Just get through it. Soon, you’ll be back on track again. Just a little more time…

As if she’s got a Reema radar, my mother sees me standing by the wall. Noticing her approach, I brace myself for more investigative reporting.

“Is he here yet? My future son-in-law?”

“Please stop.” I groan. “He’s myboyfriend.” Evil office nemesis. Destroyer of all happiness. Troll-in-hiding. “And remember, you won’t see him today. He’s had a long flight, so he’s going to the hotel next door to rest. Plus, it’s not like he needs his henna done. Thisisa ladies’ event.”

“We can make an exception for him,” argues my mother. “If he’s with my daughter, he’s part of this family.” Her eyes are voluminous with hope. Mom looks at me as if this new development is the answer to all her stress.Let both of my babies be settled in life!

“Tell him to stop by for a few minutes,” she insists.

Not a chance.

“Sorry, mom?—”

“Wait!” My mother grips the sleeve of my outfit and exclaims, “Someone just came in through the door.” She squints and gasps. “Is that him? He’s so handsome!”

“Doubt it,” I mutter, not bothering to turn around. I gave Coleman very clear instructions. He goes straight to the hotel. Later we’ll meet up and get our fake-dating story straight. My plan is to limit his exposure to my family as much as possible, so he won’t?—

My sister appears out of nowhere. “That man. His hair looks perfectly windswept.”

Fuck me.I look at the entrance.

And sure enough, there he is.

Before the rest of the crowd can spot him, I rush over to him, sensing my mother and sister following on the heels of my feet. Pushing myself to an almost-run, I outpace them and reach him first.

His eyes widen, unsurprisingly. I’m like a bat swooping down. He’s here. Coleman is here. When he said he would come, part of me didn’t believe he’d show up.

But he’s here. And he found time to go to a barber. The effect is criminal. His sides have been trimmed into an undercut, making the top tousled waves even more thoughtlessly perfect. A strand curves over one eyebrow, once again making you think ofbed,woman, andhands.

Huffing and puffing, I loom in his personal space.

He tries shaking me off. “Patel.”

I’m about to hiss that he can’t call me that if we’re pretending to be together, especially not in that uppity tone of his. But before I can lecture him, we’re no longer alone.

My mother and sister have caught up. They are shamelessly checking him out, head-to-toe.

“What are you doing here?” I say, backing up a little. “This isn’t the hotel—” Darling? The word clogs in my throat. I can’t—I can’t make myself say it. “You need to go next door with your luggage. That’s where our room is at.” He better understand my pointed words.Go to your room. Stay there. Don’t move. Wait until I find you. Leave now.

“Nonsense.” My mother comes between us like a forceful piece of construction machinery.Beep-beep, get out of the way.“You must be Jake!”

“Well done,” Esha whispers, not as quietly as she thinks she is considering the smug amusement that settles on Coleman’s face.

He inclines his head. “You must be Patel’s younger sisters.”

My mother chuckles, swatting at him.

“I am,” confirms Esha. “Much younger.”

“Patel?” wonders a voice. “Why is he calling her that?” There’s my father. He somehow snuck into our little group, and—frantically looking over my shoulder—I see that so have many others.

“That’s a thing we do,” I say loudly. Too loudly. Almost banshee-like. “We call each other by our last names. We saw it in a movie once and thought it was cute.”I’m going to throat-punch you for this, Coleman.“We’re so flirty.”

“Look at him,” my mother coos. “He’s Reema’s boyfriend.”

Yes. I must pretend we are a couple. Getting closer, I move to put my hand on him somewhere, but at the last moment, remember the henna designs on my hands. So my fingers just hover around his arm, and that isn’t awkward at all.

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