Take A Number - Amy Daws Page 0,31

Shine-Denver. I have to write up press releases and do interviews. My list is a mile long.”

I shrug casually. “It’s nearly a five-hour drive…you can do it in the car.”

“Dean.”

“Norah.”

“Faking it for a dinner and a wedding is one thing. Faking it in front of all your friends for an entire weekend is a whole other batch of nuts. I can’t do this.”

“Right, because why on earth would you ever want to do something that resembled fun?”

“What are you talking about? This is much more complicated than a fun trip.”

I step forward and grab Norah’s shoulders, willing her to take a deep breath. The girl is a ticking time bomb. She needs to relax, or she’s going to blow.

“We can still follow your stupid rules, Norah. I’ll even sleep on the floor in our room in Aspen. We’ll be fine. Plus, you can tell your mother about our plans this weekend and get out of whatever matchmaking bullshit she’s trying to pull with Douche Kayak. Not to mention, Kate will kill me if I don’t bring a nice date, so I need you.”

She groans and presses her head into my chest. “Dean, this feels like a bad idea.”

“It only feels like that because you need a vacation.” I wrap my arm around her and guide her back toward the bakery. “Now, let’s go tell everyone the good news.”

Norah stops and looks up at me. “Kate was pretty upset about my Team Dean admission last week. What if she hates the thought of you with me?”

I smile. “She only fights with people she likes.”

Dean’s car pulls up outside of the bakery on Friday at noon. My week has been such a whirlwind that I haven’t had time to agonize over this weekend road trip. Now that he’s here, it’s too late to turn back.

Monday after our alley chat, Dean and I both changed our Facebook statuses from single to in a relationship. We figured that’d be the easiest way to get the message out without having to text everyone individually. Dean forced me to kiss his cheek while he took a selfie. He posted it on his Instagram with hashtag bae—a bit over the top, but I had to laugh. He’s having way more fun with this than I am.

Max was the first one we told in person. He laughed…hard. It was really unprofessional. Then Rachael came over and joined him, and the two of them proceeded to critique our horrible acting for the better part of the morning. Needless to say, Dean and I have some work to do to make this more believable when we’re in Aspen.

When my mother saw my new relationship status, she texted and asked if my account had been hacked. When I told her no, it was real, she sent me several crying emojis. Jesus, Elaine. Dramatic much?

And of course, Rachael has been sending me GIFs of someone sitting back and eating popcorn all week long.

Probably the most challenging faking-it moment was when my mom’s book club showed up at the bakery on Wednesday. They all fired questions at me about how Dean and I met. That was the easy part because Dean and I decided to keep that story pretty honest. So, I told them he’d been coming into the bakery and asking me out for months, and I finally said yes. Easy peasy.

The hard part was the fact that my mother was dead silent the entire time I chatted with all her friends. In fact, she’s been giving me the silent treatment all week.

Why didn’t I come up with the idea of a fake boyfriend ages ago?

Aside from that, it’s been okay. Dean’s the one with a more active social life, so this change of status must be affecting his day-to-day life more than mine. However, he hasn’t complained. He’s been coming into the bakery and working like everything is normal. He passed me a sweet note on a napkin over the counter that said I looked prettier than the croinut of the day. The cheeseball.

Now, I’m leaving work early to go to Aspen for a lover’s getaway and to see if we can pull this off for a whole weekend. It all feels a bit dirty to be lying to Dean’s friends, but at the same time, it’s kind of exciting. This is the most scandalous thing I’ve done in years. Probably ever!

Rachael walks over to where I’m standing at the register and elbows me in the ribs. “He drives a Range

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