Page 90 of The Problem with Dating

“What’s that?”

“If you’re posing as my fake girlfriend, it’s only right that I pose as your fake boyfriend in town. Fair is fair.”

Her eyes lit up as if I’d just given her the winning lottery numbers. “You’ll do it?”

“I owe you that much.”

She snuggled into my side a little more. “I guess that makes me yours,” she said with a smile that had been slowly defrosting the same heart Catie froze over a year ago.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You are mine.”

CHAPTER23

Alex

One Year Ago

Asmall, hinged box sat atop my nightstand. It was made of lush black leather that was soft to my touch. It was the first day it sat on top of the nightstand instead of within one of the drawers. The edges were curved, and the box textured. Within the box was an emerald-cut diamond that I never thought I could afford fifteen years ago. Within a few moments, that ring would be released from the box that held it for the past six months and placed on the finger of the woman who held my heart.

I wasn’t an emotional man. The only person to ever witness me cry was probably my mother on the day I was born. That wasn’t to say I didn’t have emotions. I was just much more of an analytic person than a feelings guy. Some called me rough around the edges. Others called me a closed-off recluse. A select few called me a jerk—rightfully so. To be fair, I didn’t call those individuals the nicest of names, either. But still, regardless of my downfalls, another was able to get ahold of my grumpy heart and claim it as hers.

I didn’t know much about life, but I knew I loved her.

That seemed to be enough for me to take our relationship to the next stage. I’d been with Catie for the past five years, and she’d been through every up and down of my life in that time.

We met at one of my restaurants. She was at dinner with her four girlfriends, celebrating graduation from their master’s program, and I was in the back overseeing their meals. I’d never forget when Catie had the server bring me to their table because she wanted to speak with the restaurant owner.

As I approached her, the first thing I noticed was her smile. It stretched so far and wide. Full lips and a genuine softness to her. When her green eyes locked with mine, I knew right then that woman was going to change me. I remembered everything about that night. She ordered the Hawaiian glazed salmon, a Caesar salad, and a side of French fries. She drank a Cosmopolitan as she wore her tight, white bandage dress with a slim gold belt and chunky gold earrings. Her nails were painted dusty blue, and she tapped them repeatedly against the tablecloth.

“You’re the chef?” Catie asked.

“I am.”

She leaned in toward me and shook her head. “I have a complaint to make to you.”

I arched an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest. “That will be a first.”

“Yes, well, I worry everyone else is too nice to speak up about issues, but I’m not, so here goes.” She sat back in her chair and tossed her hands up in defeat. “You’ve just cooked me the most perfect salmon in the world, and I fear there’s no coming back from that. Which is a problem.”

“How is that a problem?”

“Because now, whenever I try salmon anywhere else, I’ll be forced to compare it to yours.”

A small smile slipped from me. I didn’t give those away easily. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I don’t feel bad for ruining all salmon for you. I suppose you’ll have to keep coming back in order to have your favorite.”

“I guess I’ll see you next Friday.”

And she did.

Every Friday after, she showed up. Sometimes alone at the bar, other times with friends, and it became a tradition between us. Each week, I’d ask her if she’d found better salmon. Each week, she’d tell me she’d failed the quest.

Then she left me her number. Then I called her. I’d been calling her ever since.

The timer on the oven went off, pulling me from my flashbacks as I stared at the box on the nightstand. I snatched it up and slid it into the inside pocket of my blazer. Hurrying into the kitchen, I grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the salmon dish.

It was perfect, of course. I held a record for never burning a meal.

I quickly fried up some fries, mixed up the salad, and set the dining room table with candles and flowers. I poured two glasses of white wine and checked my watch before I dimmed the lighting.

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