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SIX
A letter, hastily scrawled in red ink on a crumpled sheet of paper
Freddie—
Your clothes are as boring as a church service but you really did me a solid tonight. For a sec I thought they might’ve spotted me but your stuff was the perfect disguise.
Gonna take you up on your offer to borrow more of your things if it’s all right with you. Not sure when. You’ll know I’ve been by when your clothes are gone. I’m annoyed I won’t get to dress “like a stolen car” as you like to put it but I guess I can go back to dressing the way I like after this is over.
Anyway. Thanks again. (See? I AM capable of gratitude. Sometimes.)
—R
Amelia
Gossamer’s wasn’t a great coffeeshop. The generic food was likely pre-made in some large industrial kitchen somewhere, the drinks all had silly names, and the prices were more appropriate for Manhattan than Chicago.
It was halfway between my apartment and Soph’s, though, which made it convenient for both of us. And the relatively low noise level made it good for both getting work done and catching up.
By the time I got there, Sophie was already at the table in the back that we’d long considered ours, wearing a red-and-white checked dress that looked adorable on her slender frame. Between the two of us, Sophie had always been the more fashionable one. That hadn’t changed even after she’d had her twins and decided to stay home with them.
She had a steaming drink in front of her. My usual Americano, which this wannabe hipster coffee shop calledWe Are Vivaciousfor reasons passing understanding, waited for me at my seat. When Sophie saw me approaching, she broke out into a broad, knowing smile that made me regret saying anything to her about this half-baked plan in the first place.
“You got your hair done,” I said. “It looks great.”
“It does,” Sophie agreed, tossing some of her long, black locks over her shoulder. “But let’s not get sidetracked. Complimenting me on how great I look isn’t why we’re here.”
I winced. “I almost didn’t come,” I admitted, flopping down into the chair across from hers. “After ten minutes on Tinder, I realized this was a terrible mistake.”
“Oh my god, I’d have killed you if you’d bailed.” She leanedin closer, so giddy with delight her dark brown eyes danced with it. “I got a babysitter for this and everything.”
My heart ached over how little time Sophie took for herself. “When’s the last time you got a babysitter?” I asked. She didn’t do it often, even when Marcus was away for weeks. When I gave her her birthday present next month I wouldmakeher get a babysitter for those art classes.
Sophie ignored my question and pointed to a man sitting on the other side of the coffee shop. Deflecting, the way she always did, whenever I got on her about not prioritizing her needs.
“What about that guy?” she asked.
I snorted. “I told you to wait to start scoping candidates until I got here.”
“But you just said you weren’t having any luck on dating apps. And remind me again of when you need to present a fake boyfriend to your family?”
“The engagement dinner is on Sunday.”
“That’s in four days.” Sophie held up four fingers in front of my face as if I hadn’t heard her. “There’s no time to waste. And if you’re striking out on dating apps…” She shrugged. “You can’t blame me for being proactive, is all I’m saying. And you should at leasttake a lookat that guy over there before saying no.”
I sighed. Sophie was right. Resigned, I looked in the direction she was pointing.
The guy looked roughly my age. His dirty-blond hair was a mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed and hadn’t bothered combing it, but the rest of him looked all right. More than all right, actually. Especially the way that long-sleeved green Henley he wore clung to his broad chest and shoulders. And the thick-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose shouldn’t have worked. But somehow, they really,reallydid.
His attention was split between a journal he’d occasionally jot notes in and the magazine in his hands. The magazine had dragons on the cover. It reminded me of the books my nerdier guy friends in college used to study before meeting up for role-playing games.
I tried to get a read on him. Was he an especially handsome tabletop gaming enthusiast? Was he a sexy librarian? But getting reads on people from their appearance had never been my strong suit. Especially in cases like these, where the longer I looked, the more flustered I got.
“What do you think?” Sophie asked.
I turned to face her, feeling a little dazed. “Absolutely not.” It was debatable whether I’d be able to pull off this scheme. There was no way I’d manage it with someone I found attractive.
Sophie stared at me. “What’s wrong with him? He’s cute!”
