Page 35 of Unforgettable

“Earlier,” he starts, “when I was being a dick at work? I had just finished a heated conversation with my mom where I may have told her I had a date for Dixie’s wedding, then she said something like ‘if it’s not serious, don’t bring him.’ And I couldn’t help myself,” he exclaims, almost in shock. “Next thing I know, I’m blurting out that I’ve got a boyfriend, and it’s new, but we’re happy and we’re serious. And she calls me on my bluff and says if that’s the case, she wants me to bring him to the next family dinner.”

“And in this scenario ‘him’ is me?”

“I was going to ask you to the wedding anyway,” he reveals.

“You were?”

“My parents had already hinted at how good it would be if I brought someone to the wedding, and Maddy may have planted the seed that I should ask you.”

“Maddy? She’s the sister you’re close to, right?” I clarify.

“Yes. I had already told her about our night together and then how you showed up at V and V. And she’s just really a hopeless romantic trying to play matchmaker,” he rambles. “I totally understand if you don’t want to do it. I know it’s a train wreck of an idea, but once I thought it, I couldn’t really unthink it, you know?”

It really is a train wreck of an idea. Besides the obvious, that lying is always a sure way for something to blow up in your face, this means spending time with Oz in a setting that’ll definitely change everything for me.

I already know how I feel about him, and it’s a lot more than I should. Add in the lie, add in the family, and add in the freedom to touch him and be with him in all the ways I could easily imagine—if I gave myself permission—I’m not just playing with fire, I’m asking to get burned.

“But since you’re so quiet, I think we’ll forget that I even brought this up,” he says, his voice trailing off, uncertainty evident. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position.”

“No.” I place my hand on his forearm, comforting him. “We can do this.” And knowing I’m basically setting myself up to go down in flames and that there will be nobody else to blame but me, I add, “We might need to set some rules, but apart from that, I’ll do it with you.”

9

Oz

He says he’ll do itwithme, instead of sayingforme, and my mind snags on that difference and what it could mean. Does it even mean anything different?

When my family bombarded me with a slew of texts in our group chat about weddings and plus ones, I couldn’t help but want to prove them wrong. After Maddy’s initial suggestion, the idea took hold, clawing itself into my thoughts, forming pictures in my mind of just how good it would be to shut my family up, even if just for one day. And if I’m being honest with myself, the idea of being able to claim Reeve like that, even in just a make-believe scenario, might have also played a role in my decision process.

But when you give my mother a hand, she takes the whole arm, and now I’m asking Reeve to join me for family dinners and lie to my family.

“Don’t feel obligated,” I tell him, wanting to be completely sure he isn’t feeling forced. “I can tell them we broke up beforehand or ask someone else.”

The last three words leave an ugly taste in my mouth, and from the sour look on Reeve’s face, he doesn’t seem to like that idea either.

“You don’t need to ask anyone else. I said I would do it,” he says adamantly. “It’s not like spending time, let alone extra time, with you is a hardship.”

“And my family?”

He shrugs. “We’ll make it work.”

“We can have rules or boundaries or whatever,” I suggest. “I can’t say I know how to do this. Real or fake. But it’s just a couple of hours a week until the wedding day.”

“And when is that, again?”

“Seven weeks from now.”

“Sounds good.”

Before silence falls between us, I take the moment to apologize for snapping at him at V and V earlier. “I’m sorry for the way I bit your head off at work today. I let my parents get under my skin, which isn’t a surprise, and I took that out on you.”

“I get it.” Before I say another word, he adds, “Just don’t do it again.”

I smile at his assertiveness, loving that he’s standing his ground with me, setting boundaries of things he will and won’t tolerate. Something tells me it isn’t something he does often, and not always with people he should.

“So, relationship rule number one,” I state. “Don’t be unnecessarily rude to your fake boyfriend.”

“Any other rules I should know about?” he smarts.

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