Page 24 of The Fake Dating Plan

“Okay. Now you sound like mom. I’m going to hang up now.”

“But—”

I ended the call after that. If they mentioned her name again, I would flip. And group chat? I rarely opened the family chat unless something was going on. Might as well see what they were saying about me. I went to the virtual watering hole and lo-and-behold; I was the principal topic. Most of the messages were sent a few days ago.

Tiago:I saw her.

Mom:What did she look like? She's always been beautiful.

Tiago:[A photo of Emilia and Tiago at the launch]

Mom:[three heart eyes emojies]

Dad:Are they back together?

Tiago:Dunno.

Tiago posted three photos of Emilia and me. One was of us at the launch. That one was innocent enough. We were posing for the photographers. Another was at the hotel. I was staring at her like I wanted to devour her. The third one at the races. This was the most damning of all. It looked like it was taken just before I took her to the stairwell. My hand was on her wrist. I was standing while she was sitting, and we were both staring into each other's eyes, oblivious to our surroundings.

Mom:They look so good together! And sooo in love!!

I wanted to wring Tiago’s neck. I sent a text of my own.

Me:We’re not in love. Tiago, stop stalking me.

I thought I had ended that conversation when, a few seconds later, Tiago sent another text.

Tiago:[three laughing emojies]

They could think whatever they want, but in love was the furthest thing I was feeling for Emilia. I hated her. My hatred for her ran so deep it countered any positive feelings I had for her. It was odd that even though my family knew enough about me and her, they still thought I was in love with her. It was so funny I could cry. I wonder if they would still think that if they knew what lying cheat she was. She was my enemy, hell she was in bed with my enemies. At best, she was only a pawn to be used and discarded.

Emilia Harris was toxic and should never be played with. I learned that the hard way. But she could be useful. Why try fighting them when I could have them think we’re seeing each other? That’s what I figured when I asked Emilia to say yes when the inevitable Emilia-Mom meeting rolls around. I knew my Mom wouldn’t resist seeing her. That would get them off my case. Especially mom. She liked Emilia, and us back together would make her stop setting me up. All I had to do now was act like I usually do when they are being invasive.

With that settled, I went to my second meeting of the day. It was about the upcoming event strategies that we should do for the brand and I was basically giving feedback on the launch. It had gone well if the preliminary sales were anything to go by. Some products had sold out on the Steel Cute website which, while it might cause sales, would also result in creating scarcity. Then towards the end, the marketing consultant said, “There’s also the matter of the Sage Gala.”

“What about it?”

He looked like he had words full in his mouth that were about to spill. “Are you going alone or are you…”

“Say what you want to say.”

He shifted on his feet. “Because I was thinking. We were thinking you could go with Emilia Harris.”

7

The mood in the restaurant was airy and light. It was the of place you’d bring your friends to celebrate a big promotion over brunch. It was the exact opposite mood at our table. I cleared my throat, but whatever that was, the fear that was there didn’t dislodge, and my shaky voice said. “I didn’t know you could get a reservation here so quickly,” betraying the nonchalance of that sentence. I didn’t know what else to say. I had been looking at everything in the room but her, and she had been boring me down with her steel gaze. It was only when the menus were brought that I could do something with my hands.

“It’s owned by a friend,” she said casually, her face buried in the menu, “I’ll let him know you gave him such a glowing review.”

Wasn’t that the same thing Ax said last time? At this rate, a ‘friend of the Reids’ owned every exclusive restaurant in New York. “The steak here is good,” she added, “you should try it.”

“Why am I here?” There, I said it. The question of why, after she called and asked to meet for lunch, hung in my mind. It was so unexpected I could not say anything else but yes.

“Or the chickpea salad if you’re thinking about your weight.”

“If it’s about your son…”

She folded the menu and said, “Of course it’s about my son. You and I have nothing in common otherwise.”

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