Page 32 of Plight
“I rest my case.”
“Cliché much?”
“What? Resting my case? No. It’s actually more applicable, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re a smartarse that set this entire gala event up just to torture me further.”
“I’m truly offended and equally flattered that you think I’m capable of manipulating my mother into manipulating your mother into backing you into a corner with nowhere to go other than to an event in honour of my sister’s selflessness. I mean, wow, that’s quite an achievement in exploitation.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
There was more silence, this time longer.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. I just hate lying.”
I felt like telling her that was a good thing because she sucked at it, but I decided to let sleeping dogs lie for now. I didn’t want to argue with her beside it being quite an amusing activity. “I know you hate it,” I said, sympathetic to our plight. “Look, just think of it as two friends going to a dinner event together.”
“Pfft. Yeah, two friends who are required to perform public displays of affection.”
I smiled. “Minor detail.”
“Ha,” she retorted.
“You’re worrying yourself more than you need to.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You are!”
“So does your sister know the truth? Does she know this is all just pretend?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to her. And to be honest, I’m a little surprised she hasn’t contacted me. I’ve no doubt Mum has already broken our engagement news to her.”
“Elliot, I’m really uncomfortable about all of this. Pretending in the presence of just our mums at the garden is one thing, but extending that act of deceit to more family, and friends … ugh, I just don’t know that I’m capable of it.”
“You’ll be fine. We’ll keep things simple and quick, I promise. And we’ll leave as soon as we are able to.”
She sighed again. “Okay. I guess I have no choice.”
“Not really.”
She did, but I wasn’t going to highlight that fact.
“So what time should I meet you, and where?”
I glanced at my calendar. “It starts at 6:00 p.m. And don’t worry, I’ll pick you up.”
“Isn’t it somewhere in the city?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll come to you. Text me your address.”
“I’m happy to pick you up, Danielle.”
“What’s wrong with your apartment?”
