my awful ex on that list.
Gavin’s reasons are different, justifiable even. But that doesn’t mean I can sacrifice my hard-won independence so that he can carefully control how the world sees him. The fake engagement is a stretch for me. I can’t handle anything more.
Gavin walks straight for the coffee pot. The dogs follow as if he might give them a second breakfast. “Or does Margaret focus on body language? She’s lectured me before about how posture conveys confidence.”
“She’s right about that. Although I don’t believe she needs to waste her breath anymore. I think its second nature for you now.” I turn my attention back to the folder. “No lists so far. She’s basically offering a step-by-step plan for how to date.”
Gavin laughs as he adds cream to his coffee mug. “I know how to date.”
“But do you know how to do it so the media is eager for a shot of an engagement ring? So that they would never in a million years dream that we concocted this scheme to trick them?”
“As soon as we mention our engagement, photographers will be eager for a picture of your ring.” He glances at my hand. “We might want to pick one up.”
“Margaret thinks that’s a bad idea. Not the ring, but giving them a photo. We need to make them want it. And show the press how this relationship is different from all the others. Margaret suggests, and I’m quoting here, ‘Gavin needs to make over his social life for the next month. Less parties, and no public announcements.’ If anyone asks, we answer honestly. But otherwise, she wants the media to seek us out while we’re on normal dates.”
“Let me guess, she has guidelines for these ‘normal’ dates,” he says dryly.
“According to Margaret, we need to avoid renting a private jet for wild, impromptu destination dates. Well, that’s easy.” I look up at him. “I’ve been thinking about that plan and realized we can’t take the dogs on an overnight to a foreign country. They would hate the flight, and some countries require a quarantine period.”
“I’m sure my publicist was taking your pets into account when she wrote that.” He walks around the counter and takes the stool on the other side of Ginger. Three of the four dogs follow. Rocky heads for the living room, clearly abandoning hope of a second breakfast.
“We should go to dinner at my favorite restaurants,” I say, paraphrasing while scanning the letter. “Not places you normally go. We need to take long walks and maybe see a movie. A concert wouldn’t hurt either, but we can’t sit in the company box with your clients. And we need to see bands that I like.”
“I need to find a country music group playing in New York City?” he asks.
“Yes. In fact, I should add that to my list too.”
“Your list?”
“Of all the things I want to do while staying with you.” I turn the page and read through the next section. My lips press together.
“What?” Gavin demands. He reaches for the folder, but I pull it away.
“This is sweet,” I say, still focused on Margaret’s instructions. “She writes ‘Gavin, please take this time to enjoy your newfound happiness. Let all thoughts about where you should dine, where you should be seen, what parties to attend, and what business or social connections to pursue fall away. Focus on your love for your fiancée. If you do that, one picture of you looking at the woman you love will tell the world everything they need to know.’ ”
I set the folder down. My imagination swirls with snapshots of our imaginary dates. But if we follow her instructions, what will that one photograph show? The truth? No, we can’t let that happen.
“I know it will all be staged.” I’m not sure if I’m telling my inner romantic, whom I haven’t heard from since the beginning of my marriage, or Gavin. Maybe both. “But I think Margaret makes a good point. This is your chance to makeover your social life. No one should have to live worrying about what parties to attend.”
“I don’t,” Gavin says bluntly. He raises his coffee mug to his lips, but pauses before he takes a sip. “I leave the worrying to Margaret and her team. Her assistant tells me about the hottest restaurants. My secretary works closely with my PR team to determine which invitations to accept. It doesn’t concern me.”
“Yes, it does. The fact that you have multiple employees determining where you eat suggests that it does worry you,” I point out. “When was the last time you made a reservation for yourself at a place you wanted to eat?”
He shrugs and sets his mug on the counter. “It’s more efficient to have someone else do it.”
“Well, I approve of Margaret’s makeover instructions.” I slide the folder across the counter to him. “We’re going to start implementing her plan tonight. You’re in charge of picking the restaurant. Some place quiet and out of the way where no one will go ‘Wow, there’s Gavin Black, the man featured in that hot computer ad.’ ”
“No one says that.” He takes the folder and opens it but doesn’t look at the makeover letter I mostly paraphrased for him. “It was a software ad. But no one recognizes me from that. People remember the watch ad that got written up in all the tabloids. I mean how many software designers can also model for print ads?”
“Only you.” I add a note of teasing reverence to my tone. “And yet, you remain so humble.”
“I know,” he says with mock sincerity. “It’s a miracle.”
I laugh as I slide off the stool. We’re on familiar ground here. I’ve teased him about his modeling career for years. Truthfully, I am in awe of his confidence. I watched other kids beat it out of him for years, and he came back so much stronger.
Gavin Black came back, not Terrance Montgomery.
I accepted his reinvention as necessary. Now, I’m starting to wonder about the repercussions. Like blackmailing women who pretend to be Alexandra.