Page 11 of From Fake Dates to Forever Goals

Miguel is a retired athlete whose career ended after a severe spinal cord injury. Doctors warned him that another injury could leave him unable to walk, so he made the tough choice to retire and prioritize his health.

This evening, Miguel and I are grabbing drinks. It’s been months since we last hung out, and it’s good to see him looking so much better.

“I suppose you’ve heard the rumors,” I say, breaking the awkward silence between us.

Miguel hesitates for a moment. I can tell he wants to say something but is holding back, worried he might offend me.

“Who hasn’t?” he finally replies, his tone neutral. We both know they aren’t just rumors.

Miguel, now married with a young daughter, settled down early in his career. By the time he retired, he had built a life outside of sports.

“What’s it like being married?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Miguel smiles warmly. “It’s the best thing ever.”

His answer surprises me. It’s hard to imagine a man giving up his freedom for one woman and being genuinely happy about it.

“Don’t you miss the good old days? When you were free?”

Miguel chuckles under his breath. “These are the good days,” he says, pulling out his phone to show me pictures of his daughter. His face lights up as he adds, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I take a long swig of my beer, trying to process his perspective.

“You should give it a shot,” Miguel suggests casually.

“You mean get married?” I laugh, stunned he’d even suggest such a thing.

Miguel nods, his expression serious.

“I’m just trying to get out of this mess,” I admit, shaking my head.

“Have you come up with a solution yet?” he asks.

“Sort of,” I say hesitantly. “But it’s complicated.”

Over the next few minutes, I fill Miguel in on Ava and my plan to get her to agree to the fake relationship.

“Why don’t you just fund her project?” Miguel says, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “That way, she’ll see what a nice guy you are. Maybe she’ll even agree to help you after that.”

His suggestion hits me like lightning.

That could actually work.

“You’re a genius,” I say, grinning at him.

Miguel’s advice feels like the missing piece of the puzzle. I know Ava would never willingly accept a favor from me upfront—her pride wouldn’t let her—but if I helped her succeed, she’d have no choice but to recognize my generosity.

Ava is unlike any woman I’ve ever met. Usually, women fawn over me, but she’s completely indifferent. From what I can tell, the only thing that matters to her is her work, and that’s exactly why my plan will work perfectly.

If I secretly help fund her project, she’ll have no reason to suspect an ulterior motive. She’ll think I did it out of genuine kindness, and by the time she realizes, I’ll already have her on board.

This might actually work.

If Ava won’t accept my help in finding an investor, the only option left is to invest in her project myself.

The next morning, I send her an email, letting her know that I’m willing to partly fund her project. I also offer to personally speak to Rubin McNeal to convince him to fund the other half.

I wait for a reply, but none comes.

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