Page 13 of Is This for Real?
a. Why is that question always asked, as if it holds the clues to the relationship?
b. Can it predict whether we will last?
(3) Given my book plot, we need to fake date in front of exes. But Jamie made it clear that I wouldn’t see him again. Maybe Callie?
I close my notebook and walk again. Rory didn’t suggest fake dating in front of Callie. If he gets back together with Callie, he won’t need me as a fake date for client functions. I need to work fast. I will have to read some fake dating books to find out all the tropes.
My favorite kind of research.
I skirt along the bottom edge of the Great Lawn, which is filled with teams playing baseball. I used to watch Jamie play baseball here in high school, off on the sidelines. Today at brunch, I was in the game—with Rory as my teammate. I smile as I recall Willow sticking her hand up Jamie’s sleeve. I check to see if I feel any pangs of jealousy. No. Hmm.
I pass by the boarded-up Shakespeare in the Park theatre. Posters for this summer’s performance ofTwelfth Nightare still up. I turn left and walk down the narrow sidewalk next to the joggers and bicyclists speeding by.
I might be over Jamie. Brunch felt more like ripping off a Band-Aid than creating a new wound.
And finally, I arrive home to a furry-dog welcome with some wet kisses thrown in for good measure. I have two dogs boarding with me at the moment. Benson is a German shepherd, and Gilda, named after Gilda Radner, is a golden border collie mix. My other regular client, Cleo, a Labrador mix, usually just hangs out with me during the weekdays. Cleo is the beloved pet of my friend Miranda’s uncle. He works in theatre so he’s gone most nights. All three of them get along with my orange tabby cat, Goldie.
Benson and Gilda bark as soon as I grab their leashes to take them to the dog run.
At the dog run in Riverside Park, I let them off their leashes and hang out off to the side, throwing their balls when they want to play fetch. I chat with a few other dog owners I recognize. It’s a perfect lazy Sunday afternoon. I’m about to call the dogs and head home when my phone rings. It’s my sister, Olivia.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’redatingRory,” she says. “Rory. That’s amazing.”
Another person who finds it amazing. Don’t hold back now.
She continues, “You never tell me anything, but still, I thought you would have called me to tell me this. I can’t believe I had to hear it from Jamie.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe Jamie blabbed it to everyone. I thought he was in the middle of working on some time-intensive deal.”
“I called him to make sure I saw him before he left,” she says. Our families grew up together, even spending vacations together. “And why shouldn’t he be telling everyone? You should be blabbing it to everyone. Why didn’t you want to tell me?”
I don’t know what to say.
“We’re the only family we have. Why wouldn’t you tell me something like this? I mean, this is significant. Rory is like your best guy friend, other than Jamie. I don’t understand why you don’t open up. I worry about it.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” We should have never pretended to be dating in front of Jamie. But I can’t tell Olivia the truth. She can’t keep a secret. Corporate secrets, yes. My secrets, no. And Theresa is also going to want details. Jamie’s definitely told his mom if he’s told Olivia.
Olivia says, “And I even talked to you after the brunch. So, you’d just told Jamie, but you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t mean to tell Jamie.”
“I always thought it would be you and Jamie when we were growing up,” she says.
I’ve never told her that I told Jamie I liked him.
A couple with a dog enters the dog park and lets their terrier off the leash. The man hugs his partner, and they seem to be talking intently, their heads close together, while their terrier runs over to meet Gilda.
“But Rory’s a much better match for you. He gets you.”
I should tell her the truth.I throw Benson’s ball. He lopes over to get it, then brings it back, but he doesn’t want to drop it. He lies down a few feet away, his paws out, slobbering over his ball.
She says, “And Rory supports your writing. I was telling Theresa about that rejection you got—where the person told you to put the book in the drawer and work on the next one. I don’t know how you keep going.”
I rub my forehead. “I don’t actually need everyone to know about that piece of advice.” Much as I love Olivia, it annoys me that she views my life as fair game for discussion.
“It’s just Theresa. She’s worried about you; it seems impossible to get published nowadays. She’s as impressed with your perseverance as I am,” Olivia says. “Anyway, we should double date.”
“Except that I’m your babysitter.”
