Em
Slow dancing with Ian Reid? Getting intimate with his overdeveloped and probably sweaty physique for a minimum of three long minutes; this was the universe’s punishment for acting like a jealous pig at the wedding rehearsal. But I needed to keep the real goal in sight: convincing Ian to pretend to be my boyfriend. Who better to blast away my parents’ ridiculous expectations than the worst man in Ottawa? Or possibly the entire universe.
I tried to arrange my face into a pleasant expression as I turned towards him. Unfortunately, I’m not the best actress, and my smile was more a snarl.
“Ready to dance?” I asked through clenched teeth.
To my surprise, Ian didn’t pull me into an inappropriate clinch. Instead he took my hand in his, put his other hand on the small of my back, and whirled us around. Yes, we were too close, and I could feel his firm chest through his thin dress shirt. But it wasn’t the horny-grade-eight-dance-groping I’d expected.
“How do you know how to dance?” I asked.
“I’ve got major skills you don’t know about... yet,” he answered.
Nothing like a sexual innuendo to get me back on track.
“I was wondering if you’d do me a huge favour,” I began.
Ian snorted. It was a negative snort.
“Awwww! The best man and the maid of honour dancing together,” squealed Abby as she and Mason twirled by. “That’s so adorable.”
More improbable than adorable. I smiled at the happy couple and another excuse occurred to me. “You usually spend Christmas at Abby and Mason’s, don’t you?”
He squinted down at me. Or perhaps further down—Ian addressed a lot of his remarks to my breasts. “So?”
“Well, since they’re going to be on their honeymoon, you won’t have a place to go, right?” Mason and Abby were spending a romantic Christmas in Paris.
“What d’you care?” he asked. His Ottawa Valley accent always sounded fake to me, like he was pretending to be dumber than he was.
Flustered, I stumbled again. “Well, nobody should spend Christmas alone.”
Ian spun me around, his hand on my back steering me. “I got other friends.”
We danced in silence, surrounded by happy, loving couples. The music switched to a sweet ballad by Shawville, Henry’s band. Sophia squealed and wrapped her arms around Henry’s neck. He bent his head down and kissed her. Once again, that longing for a real relationship rose up in me. I let out a sigh.
Ian eyed me. “C’mon, spit it out. What does the little princess want?”
God, he was so infuriating.
“I want you to come home with me at Christmas and pretend to be my boyfriend,” I blurted.
“What the actual fuck?”
I’d finally surprised him. “I need a bad boyfriend.”
“Oh, you’ve been a naughty girl and you need to be punished? I can do that.” I felt his hand slip down my back and tap the top of my butt.
A blush spread up my throat as I pulled his hand back to respectability. “Stop it. No. That’s not what I mean.”
Ian shook his head in mock disappointment. I had about a minute before the song ended and Ian lost all interest in this conversation.
“You see, my parents really liked Lucas, and they’ve hated all the guys I’ve dated ever since. Now I’ve met this new guy, Thomas. We’ve only gone out a few times, but I think we have potential. But first, I have to teach my parents a lesson. So I thought if I brought you home, they’ll dislike you enough that whoever I bring home next will look good in comparison.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how insulting they sounded. “Not that you’re such a terrible guy. I’m sure you’re the perfect guy for someone else. But you and I are completely incompatible.”
Ian’s forehead creased for a moment, and I worried that I had hurt his feelings. Then he laughed. Right, he had no feelings. “Get real. What’s in this for me?”
“Um, a good dinner? My dad’s a great cook.” I lowered my voice. “Better than Abby.” Abby had many talents, but cooking was not one of them.
“I get to spend Christmas with the three of youse looking down your noses at me, right? Sounds like a fucking rip. Besides, you’re not even from Ottawa, are you?”
I shook my head. “No. Toronto.”
“Better and better. I drive four hours each way, I’m trapped for multiple days, and everyone hates me. If I was that big a masochist, I’d just get you to whip me instead.” A grin flashed across his face. “If you wear one of those little latex outfits, it might be worth it.”
The song ended and the DJ put on something faster. Ian let go of me and headed back to the table. I felt rejected, but I wasn’t giving up.
I slid into the seat beside him. “What if we do a trade? There must be something you really want.”
Ian gave me a look that made me feel completely undressed. “Em, you offerin’ what I think you’re offerin’?”
Was it possible for the hairs on my head to blush? Because that was the only part of me that wasn’t red right now. “No, no, no. All I meant was that I’m good at things.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Not those things. Organizing. Numbers, I’m good at numbers. I could do your taxes or something.”
He grunted. “I can do my own taxes. You gotta do better than that.”
I searched my brain for Ian-knowledge, but that was a subject I’d studiously avoided. All I knew was that he was good at hockey and worked in construction.
“Give me a hint. What would be your perfect Christmas gift?”
“Rhianna, gift wrapped.” Ian tipped his beer bottle and took a long drink. He was clearly tiring of this conversation.
“Anything else?” I pleaded.
“Wait, I got an idea.” He pulled out his phone.
What if he asked for something really extravagant? Was Thomas—who wasn’t even a steady boyfriend yet—really worth all this effort?
Then Sophia and Henry came back to the table hand in hand. They were in their own world, and I could almost see tiny hearts swirling around their heads.
Whatever Ian wanted, he was getting. If things didn’t work out with Thomas, at least I would be clearing the way for the next Mr. Right.
Ian held up his phone. “The Leafs have a home game on December 26th. I’m a big Leafs fan, and I wouldn’t mind going to a game. Why don’t you get us a couple of tickets to that?”
“Okay, sure.” That seemed like a reasonable trade.
Ian grinned. All his smiles looked dirty. “Might be expensive, though.”
“Really?” How much could hockey tickets be? I started searching on my phone. Ian watched over my shoulder, and I felt his warm breath on my skin. But I couldn’t tell him to back off when he was doing me a favour.
“I want club seats too. Holiday torture is worth a first-class experience.”
The prices flashed up. “Oh my gosh. Who pays prices like that for a hockey game?”
“Leafs fans,” Ian answered. “Besides, you’ve got the fancy-ass government job. You can afford it.”
I did have a good job at the Bank of Canada, but that didn’t mean I had a thousand dollars lying around. Was this really worthwhile? Adding in the game, I’d have to spend several days with Ian, and the way he pressed all my buttons, I’d be lucky to emerge from the holiday without manslaughter charges.
“Fine. But do I have to get two tickets? It’s not like I’m a Leafs fan.”
“What kind of girlfriend gets her boyfriend a solo ticket for Christmas?” Ian asked.
One that doesn’t really like her boyfriend? “Didn’t you grow up around here? Why don’t you cheer for the Sens?”
“Came by it honestly. My grandpa was a die-hard Leafs fan.”
“Okay, I’ll get you the Leafs tickets. And then you’ll come to my parents’ place for Christmas. Deal?” I stuck out my hand.
Ian did his smirk-smile thing. “Deal.”
He squeezed my hand, and I felt the calluses on his palm. I pulled my hand away like it was singed.
I got out my planner. “Would it be okay with you if we drove down on December 24th? And if we go to the game on the 26th, we can come home the next morning. Because I’m sure you’re going to be drinking a lot at the game.”
He held up a hand. “Yeah, let’s get one more thing straight. I’ll do this, but I’m not your lapdog. You don’t get to tell me how much to drink or what to wear or any shit like that.”
“Don’t change a thing, Ian. You’re perfect exactly the way you are.” A total jerk.
“Good. I need another beer.” Ian left abruptly.
A rush of energy came over me. Finally, I was doing something to move towards my life goals. I made a note to call my mom tomorrow and let her know Ian was coming. Not that it would matter because we always had so many people for Christmas dinner.
“Em.” Abby touched my shoulder. “I’m getting changed now. Will you come along?”
“Of course.”
We tore Sophia away from Henry and went to a reserved room downstairs.
“It’s been the loveliest wedding,” I told Abby. While things wouldn’t really change between us, Abby had crossed the border into married land now. Babies would be next, and then she’d change even more. The gap between mothers and single women was vast.
Abby unzipped a garment bag and brought out a red jumpsuit with brass buttons and buckles.
“Isn’t this the best? I scored it at a church rummage sale in Carleton Place.” She lifted her hair and got me to unfasten her wedding dress, another vintage find.
“You have amazing luck at second-hand places,” said Sophia, who had never worn anything used in her life. Neither had I.
“You really have to dig. This beauty was under a pile of stinky kids’ hockey jerseys and crappy logo T-shirts.” Abby wriggled out of her wedding dress and dumped it unceremoniously. I picked up the heavy dress and hung it on a padded hanger. Abby sat down to fix her makeup.
“Guess what?” I said. “I’ve already put your plan into action.”
“What plan?” Abby asked.
“The plan to bring home a really terrible boyfriend and scare my parents. I’m taking Ian Reid home for Christmas.”
Sophia and Abby both stared at me.
“Ian Reid? Why him?” Sophia asked.
“Please. He’s the worst person I know.” Was this not self-evident?
Sophia frowned. “I don’t know him that well, but Henry likes him. Ian’s got a down-to-earth manner, but he’s not a cheater like Elliott.”
Abby changed her pearl earrings to dangling ruby ones. “I know why Em hates Ian. Three reasons.” She counted off on her hand. “One. Lucas disliked Ian because of hockey stuff and talked smack about him. Two. Ian said something inappropriate when they met and they got off on the wrong foot. Three. Suppressed sexual chemistry.”
The look of horror on my face made Abby giggle. “Okay, maybe only two reasons.”
“How inappropriate?” Sophia asked.
I sniffed. “The first thing he said when he saw me was ‘Who’s the chick with the great tits?’”
Sophia frowned and shook her head. “That’s objectifying.”
Abby just laughed. “Yes, he can be crude. You do have spectacular tits though. I envy you.” She patted the front of her jumpsuit.
“Well, that’s not all. He drinks all the time. He goes through women like tissue. He insults me constantly. Nobody can be that offensive by mistake. I’m sure he hates me too.”
Abby muttered something which sounded a lot like “suppressed sexual chemistry” and started off on another giggle fest, but I chose to ignore her. “He’s sexist, ignorant, and rude. Each time we talk, he says something that makes me want to belt him into next week.”
Sophia smiled. “Em, I’ve never heard you threaten violence before. Besides, I can imagine Ian fending you off with one hand.”
“See, all the more reason we’re not compatible. He’s athletic and I’m not. Besides, my parents are intellectuals. They’re not going to like him.”
Abby was all ready and stood up. “Well, I’m looking forward to hearing how this all turns out. It’s not going to follow your blueprint.”
“Maybe it will be like a movie. Everything gets turned upside down and you two fall in love,” suggested the romantic Sophia.
“Not going to happen,” I assured her.
“Oh, before I forget, I got you bridesmaid’s gifts,” said Abby. She pulled out two tiny boxes wrapped in glitter tissue.
“Oh, thank you,” Sophia and I said simultaneously. We unwrapped them to find beautiful earrings.
“They’re made by a local designer I found when I was looking for my bridal jewellery. She does beautiful work in precious metals,” Abby said.
Sophia’s earrings were hammered silver hoops and mine were simple gold discs. They were beautiful and suited each of us. Abby had such a good design eye.
She stood up and draped her arms around our shoulders. “Thank you both for making today the happiest day of my life.”
I started to cry again, but this time they were happy tears, with not a drop of jealousy.