“Good call, babe.” He slings a heavy arm around my shoulders and steers me toward my car. “Me being your pretend boyfriend is perfect. As the first act of our make-believe relationship, I paid the bill.”
“Thanks, but how is faking a perfect solution to anything? We’re bound to be caught out and then I’ll be humiliated.” I’m feeling so disgruntled right now. Jack’s brand of charm is potent and the more failed relationships I have, the more I realize I’m never going to find someone that is as good as him, which means I’ll have to settle, which I don’t want to do or be single for the rest of my life. The latter isn’t terrible. There are plenty of single people who are happy. But, at some point, Jack is going to find someone special and I’ll be sitting on the sidelines watching them hold hands, attend brunch, have babies, and be happy—together. If I had someone, too, maybe Jack’s inevitable pairing wouldn’t make me miserable.
At least, that was my thought process, but my thought process hasn’t manifested itself into real-life solutions. Instead, I kissed way too many frogs to avoid wanting the prince was standing right beside me, grinning his impossible handsome smile, looking mouth-wateringly delicious.
The only smart thing to do is to create some separation between my best friend and object of my desire. He doesn’t deserve to be burdened with my feelings, but I also can’t see him nearly every day, talk to him nearly every day, let him console me with ice cream after each failed attempt to get over him, and still hold my heart aloof.
“Nah. This is gonna be great. If you had taken someone else—like some random from your office—you’d have to make up a fake dating story and get all the details right. Your dad would’ve tripped up a fake in a second. Me? I know all your secrets.” He winks and opens my car door for me.
All of them? Not even the most important one.
Chapter 3
When I get home, I immediately ring my buddy McCann to get him to cover for me this weekend.
“I’m sorry to spring this on you late, bro, but I’ve got something important to take care of.”
“You cleaning your gutters out?”
“Nah. I’m pretending to be Daphne’s date for her sister’s wedding.”
“Oh, so you want a weekend of blue balls. Sounds like I’m getting the better end of the deal.”
I grab a beer from the fridge. “You know it’s not like that. Me and Daphne are friends.”
I may have had a few lecherous thoughts about Daphne. Who could look at her hot body and not immediately want to see her naked? Who could spend even five minutes with her and not want to see if she tastes as tart and spicy as she sounds? Who could sit next to her for a dinner and wonder what it’d be like if you arm-barred the entire contents of the table onto the ground so that you could lay her on top and eat her out for an entire week?
I blow out a heavy breath and roll the cold bottle across my forehead.
“I used to say that about me and Nic,” McCann grunts. He sounds ticked off.
“I mean, if it’s a big deal to cover for me, I could ask Parker.” I don’t need this kind of grief. It’s hard to keep my true emotions toward Daphne under wraps without my friends challenging me.
“Forget it,” my friend sighs. “I don’t got shit going on anyway. Nic’s visiting her parents, so I’m just at home holding my dick.”
“Great visual. Thanks for the details.” The image of my friend jacking off isn’t a great one, but it has the desired effect of deflating my hardening cock.
“You’re welcome. I usually watch a little homemade porn while I’m jacking it, too. Tonight, it’s going to be Mrs. Robinson and—”
“—Me thanking you for the details was sarcasm,” I cut in.
“Me telling you about Nic and me getting funky in the bedroom was also sarcasm. She’s at her parents’ ’cuz we’re getting a divorce.”
I pause with the bottle halfway to my mouth. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah, so I need the extra work because I might have to pay her alimony and I need the distraction.”
“Jesus, McCann, I don’t know what to say.” These two seemed to be happy. Nic was a nurse. Of all the professions, cops generally believed nurses made good spouses because they worked long, irregular hours at a stressful job. If these two couldn’t make it, what chance did anyone else have?
“It sucks, but what can you do?” McCann comes off resigned rather than sad, but he’s got to be torn up inside. The two have been together for, like, a decade.
I open my freezer drawer. Inside is a gallon of rocky road. I bought it a couple of weeks ago because I could see that Daphne’s fling with Brad was going to die a quick death, but she never called me to come over.