Just email me the plans and I’ll see if he’ll be able to join.”
“Okay. I really think you should try to convince him to take the time off because it’s going to be all couples. I don’t want you to feel left out.”
In other words, miserable.
I could just bow out myself, but Stephanie’s my oldest friend. We have photos together dating back from kindergarten. I can’t skip out on this special occasion just because I’m too scared to invite Aiden.
“Let me work on him and I’ll be in touch.”
“Awesome. We officially leave in two weeks, so I’ll need to have a final headcount by Friday.”
I hang up and stare at my phone, wondering what to do. I have to go, and since I’m going, it would be so much less miserable if Aiden were there alongside me. We could survive the insanity together, lean on each other.
There’s just the little awkward detail to contend with wherein I lied about us being a couple, but that’s no big deal! He won’t care!
Right?
Thanks to Stephanie’s deadline, I have until Friday to get Aiden on board with the entire plan.
That’s doable.
It’s only Monday.
That evening, after work, I reheat the pasta from last night just in time for Aiden to walk in the door.
He drops his keys and wallet on the island along with the leather bag he carries to work, and I scurry to meet him.
“Aiden! You’re home! How was work?” I ask with a congenial smile.
“Good. I spent the whole morning reworking a story about the protests so we could get it up on the website before lunch.”
“Wow. I bet it’s amazing. I’ll read it later. Send me a link?”
“Yeah, sure. Why are you being so weird?”
I stop massaging his shoulders. I knew that was too much.
“Here, come take a seat. Are you hungry? I cut up some cheese from the farmer’s market.”
“Oookay…uh, thanks.”
I flash him a megawatt smile and ask him to tell me every single detail about his article from start to finish. He loves talking about journalism, and while I usually cut him off at about fifteen minutes, tonight I’m going to let him ramble until he’s good and done.
After dinner, I pop some popcorn with extra butter and tell Aiden to pick what we watch on TV. Usually we flip back and forth. By my count, it’s my turn to choose the show, and apparently Aiden’s been keeping track too because he points this out.
“No, no. You pick. You’re always so good at picking shows!”
“Are you on drugs? Did Blythe trick you into eating an edible again?”
I laugh entirely too long and too loud. “What?! Noooo. I’m just happy to be spending time with you.”
His dark brows furrow as he takes me in. His green eyes assess me, and my smile feels strained, as if I know I’m seconds away from being found out. Then, because he’s a guy and, at heart, guys are pretty simple creatures, he accepts the remote and forces me into watching an episode of Alone on the History Channel. What is it with guys and wilderness shows? Is it that cool to survive in Alaska all by yourself? Fishing and living in a little teepee and whittling dumb things out of wood?
“His gill net is so awesome,” Aiden says, commenting on a contestant’s fishing strategy.
“Oh my god, yes! Amazing!”
I’m mentally exhausted by the time I lie down in my bed. Being overly enthusiastic is hard work. How do happy people do it? Xanax?
The next day, I step up my game. On the way home from work, I stop and grab a case of Aiden’s favorite beer from the very back of the cooler in the store so it’s ice cold. I’ll tell him it was on sale so it doesn’t seem like such a bribe. While I’m out, I also pick up our favorite Thai food, and I ensure they make the coconut curry extra spicy, just how Aiden prefers it.
He beats me home and is already on the couch in lounge pants and a Columbia t-shirt, typing on his laptop when I walk in.
“I brought home Thai!” I announce, holding up the brown paper bag.
Aiden laughs and points to the kitchen island. “So did I.”
Sure enough, there’s a perfect clone of the paper bag in my hand sitting up on the counter. Dammit. How dare he generously bring me home dinner? How am I supposed to stand out as kind and thoughtful now? Then I remember the beer.