snooty girls who were rude to the waiters, and that was a deal-breaker right there.
Not that this is real, and not that we’re really dating. But it would have sucked if my fake fiancée had been a bitch to the staff.
When the waiter leaves, I pour our wine and drink half the glass in one swallow. Now that it’s just Callie and me, I’m oddly nervous.
Callie takes a very tiny sip.
“You don’t like it?” I ask her.
“I do, I’ve just never been much of a drinker. As you’ve already seen.”
An awkward silence settles over us. I look down at my wine. I could drink the rest of it…or I could actually make an effort.
Callie’s worth the effort.
I manufacture a smile. “So. How are things these days?”
“Can’t complain. My sister and her husband just had a baby a couple of weeks ago. And the fair has me so busy, I’m running around like a nine-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. We keep adding more cleaning staff, but it’s never enough, so I’m managing the staff and working a shift every day. Uh, how about you?”
“We’re all doing great.” Wonderful. My endless stream of witticisms and flirty banter seems to have dried up. “Uh, Magnus is doing really well these days, hasn’t been arrested in a couple of years. Monica and Parker are happy. All our concert dates are sold out, and the new album’s coming together nicely.”
“That’s nice. You, uh…have time for fun? Any hobbies?”
“Not really. You?”
“Is cleaning a hobby?” She grimaces. “I guess I already said that I clean. Well, uh, you could say bailing my family out of trouble is a hobby.”
“That sounds fun.” My words ring awkwardly in my ears.
“No it doesn’t. We don’t have anything in common anymore, do we?” she says in a small, sad voice. “We probably never did.”
“Don’t.” My voice is fierce. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
Don’t take away my one pure memory of love, or at least what I thought was love. Don’t put yourself down, don’t diminish what we had. Because for that brief, beautiful summer, it was everything. Everything.
She sounds like the old Callie now. Like someone who cares. I wish I knew what to believe.
The waiter arrives just then with our salads, saving us from more awkwardness. We dive into the salad without saying another word.
The salads are quickly followed by our dinners. As we eat in silence, I try to hang on to my anger, but it fades like mist. It’s the Callie magic; her light seeps into me, pushing aside the darkness.
As we eat, I watch her, wishing I could strip away the makeup and wig and see the woman underneath. I miss her little freckles. After all these years, I can still visualize them with my eyes closed. I could draw their location on a map.
“Would you like some more wine? Maybe half a dozen Long Island Iced Teas?” I flash a roguish grin.
That earns me a smile in return. “Don’t even say those four words together in the same sentence. I’m getting hangover flashbacks.”
“I promise I’ll hold your hair when they come back up.”
She shudders delicately and takes a sip of her ice water. “Please. Don’t even joke. The mere thought of The Drink That Shall Not Be Named makes me want to gag.”
“Well we don’t want that. At least, not as a result of alcohol.”
She chokes on her water, coughing. “Did you really just say that?”
I lean over and pat her on the back. A light flashes in our direction. Despite the “no camera” policy inside the restaurant, someone’s taking our picture. Time to put on a show.
I scooch my chair over until it’s next to hers and move my face close to hers. “Paparazzi are watching us,” I tell her. “Can I kiss you? We’ve got to sell this.”
A breath whooshes in and out of her, and I tell myself it’s a sigh of desire. “My goodness, you do know how to charm a girl,” she murmurs.
The memory of our long-ago kiss floods my senses. I remember exactly what she tasted like, sweet and warm.
I flash her my best, most endearing smile, remembering to crinkle my eyes when I do it. “It’s for a good cause.”
“So romantic.” But I can see the longing in her eyes. Her white teeth sink into her full bottom lip.
Another camera flashes. “Just one quick kiss?” I wink at her. “Let’s give the people what they want.” Heat surges through my loins at the memory of