Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Mia asked me why I stank that night,” I say, laughing. “She said I need to learn how to shower because I didn’t just miss a spot with the soap. I missed all the spots.”
“Sorry,” a woman says, interrupting us mid-hug. “Can I borrow him for a moment?”
I pull back from the hug with Jake to give her a look-over. Something in her sultry voice and the brazen request to “borrow” Jake from me already has me on the defensive. When I see the size of her gravity-defying breasts, I’m almost ready to come to blows. Then again, those huge things might just punch back if I hit one like a boxer’s speed bag.
“Sure,” Jake says easily. “We’re available.”
I relax a little. We. He’s not playing along.
The woman’s expression falters just a touch. “I was hoping to speak with you on behalf of my father. He’s thinking about making a sizable contribution to the charity. As a hockey enthusiast, he’s deeply appreciative of the work your amazing organization is doing.”
“Really?” Jake asks. “That’s incredible. I’d be happy to get in touch with him or answer any questions you might have.”
She hesitates again. “That’s quite alright. I’ll let him know he can reach out.” She walks off, heels clicking.
I have to resist the urge to throw my hair over one shoulder triumphantly. That’s right. Walk away. He’s my fake man, which means he’s off-limits for you.
The rest of the night goes on smoothly. We’re dragged from one conversation to another for nearly three hours. People either want to subtly remind Jake that they already contribute to the charity and collect their five minutes of attention from Jake as payment, or they want to tease the possibility of donating. Almost every conversation eventually turns to us and how we met, considering only a few people are ahead of the “news” about our engagement from reading it online. Almost everybody gushes over my dress, which keeps me in a perpetual state of flattery. Instead of being bored, it feels like I’m floating a few inches above the polished floors on a little cloud of sparkling pixie dust. I’ve got the perfect man on my arm, I’m wearing a dress fit for a princess, and we’re drawing envious looks everywhere we go.
By the time everybody disperses to the little circular tables bought out across the room, we’ve told and grown the story of our gay bar meet-cute about fifty times. Each is draped with a white tablecloth, candles, and pristine table settings.
We’re served a seven-course meal as people take turns going to the center of the room and giving speeches. The topics range from ball-gargling speeches about how amazing Jake is and how they met him or how much he has contributed to self-congratulatory speeches about how much money they’ve given. It’s honestly kind of mind-numbing, but I keep myself happy and occupied in a number of ways.
One, I steal glances at Jake and enjoy the little fantasy that he’s really engaged to me. I look around the room, catching people’s eyes on us, then imagine what they must be thinking. I run my fingertips over the fabric of my dress, mesmerized by how impossibly soft it is. I also look around the room and admire other women's dresses.
I’m lost in these thoughts when Jake stands suddenly, and people start clapping. I didn’t realize he was going to speak.
He takes the microphone and stands at the center of the room, comfortable with the attention and silence as he slowly circles, taking a look at everybody in the room. There’s a different intensity to the silence when the microphone is in his hand. Everybody is hanging there–just waiting for his words.
“Thank you all for coming,” he says, voice booming through the sound system. “I know this is where I normally go on and on about the charity and try to persuade you all to contribute again for the year or for the first time. And please, do all that. But everybody else has already done such a good job of explaining what we do here… Tonight, I really just have one thing on my mind. One perfect someone,” he adds, smiling so naturally I can’t quite believe he’s such a good actor. “Caroline, would you stand up for just a second?”
“That’s okay,” I say. My voice catches, so I have to clear my throat and say it again. “That’s okay! I don’t need to!”
The crowd starts clapping. Looking around the room, I can see people gesturing for me to stand. They’re all smiles, but the pressure is unbearable.
A choked sound slips out of my throat as I stand, then give a jerky wave to Jake.
He beams at me, blue eyes sparkling. God. He really is an impressive man. Tall, broad, and with a face I’m pretty sure I couldn’t get bored of if I tried. I’m smiling back at him before I realize it, caught in the spotlight of his attention until everything else feels like background noise.