Before we sat down, he tried again with the handshake. He wiped his palm on his thigh, then stuck his hand out. When I took it, he blurted, “My pant leg is sopping wet. I meant to dry my palm because it was sweaty, but I made it much worse. I’m sorry.”
“It’s totally fine.”
“It’s not. I’m screwing this up so bad.”
“No, you’re not. Would you like to sit down?”
I indicated the booth, but he asked, “Could we go outside? I really need some air.” When I agreed, he tossed a pair of twenties onto the table, and I followed him through the bar and out the front door.
“I don’t really know what to do now,” he admitted when we reached the sidewalk.
I looked up at him and smiled. He was around six feet tall, which meant he had about four inches on me. “Let’s go for a walk, and you can tell me all about the trip we’re taking next weekend.”
He seemed surprised. “You’re actually considering going with me?”
“Not just considering it. I’m in.” I’d made up my mind the moment he spilled the water all over himself. This guy desperately needed my help.
“I thought you’d want to get to know me before you decided. Not that I’m trying to talk you out of it, but leaving the country with a total stranger must seem like a dicey proposition.”
“You’re not a total stranger,” I said. “You’re Doctor Wesley Bennett, age thirty-three, a pediatrician and a graduate of Harvard Medical School. You have two siblings, Camille and Warren, who are both doctors. So are your parents, Geoffrey and Eloise. That’s an awful lot of overachieving for one family, by the way.”
“I guess that means you looked me up online.” When I nodded, he said, “I’m glad you did some research ahead of time. It’s important that you feel comfortable not only with me, but with this arrangement.”
We started walking into the financial district, which was deserted on a Sunday. The skyscrapers surrounding us formed a canyon of glass and steel, which kept the streets in shadow. It felt like an alien landscape.
To get the conversation moving, I asked, “What did Jasper tell you about me when you spoke on the phone?”
“He said you’re beautiful, and he was right.” He seemed embarrassed and cleared his throat. Then he added, “He also said you’re kind, and fun to be around, and that you love music more than any person he’s ever met. He mentioned you moonlight as a DJ.”
I started to tell him I wasn’t just moonlighting and had to remind myself he thought I did something else for a living. After a pause, I said, “So, I hear I’m supposed to be posing as your boyfriend at this wedding. Will your family really believe you’re dating someone like me?”
He stopped walking and turned to me with a startled expression. “I wasn’t going to tell them you’re…I mean that you…” Oh god. He thought I was talking about being a prostitute.
“No, I mean, I doubt you usually date guys with lavender hair and tattoos. I can dye my hair back to blond if you want me to, maybe that’ll make it easier for your family to believe we’re a couple. And my ink’s hidden as long as I don’t wear tank tops or shorts, so—”
He cut me off by saying, “Please don’t change anything about yourself. You’re perfect just the way you are, and I really don’t care what my family thinks.”
“You don’t? But you’re going through a lot of trouble to create this illusion for them.”
“The fake boyfriend thing is for me, not them,” he said. “My brother is marrying my ex-fiancé, who dumped me six days before our wedding. Ever since that happened, my family’s been treating me like I’m pathetic and broken. They don’t believe me when I tell them I’m okay, so they need to see it for themselves. It’s the only way they’ll stop pitying me.”
I asked, as gently as I could, “Are you really okay, Wesley?”
“No, but they don’t need to know that.”
I nodded. “Then we’ll convince your family you’ve never been happier.” As we started walking again, I asked, “How long will we say we’ve been together?”
“Three months ago, I told my mother I’d started seeing someone. It was true at the time, but we only had two dates. She doesn’t know it ended, so you and I can say we’ve been together that long.”
“So, I’ll be pretending to be the guy you were dating?”
“No. I didn’t tell her anything about him, not even his name.”
“Didn’t she ask?”
“She did, but I said I didn’t want to share any details until I knew it was going to last.” He sighed and muttered, “Good thing I kept it vague.”
“I’m glad you put yourself out there and tried dating again. That sounds like progress.”