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“He’s handsome!” my mother says as she peers at the picture of me and Peter.
“He is,” Sabrina admits grudgingly. “I don’t believe that man is a fucking doctor.”
“Don’t swear!” Mom says.
“Valerie swears all the time!”
“Valerie is a lost cause.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
Mom continues to stare at the picture. “I don’t know what you have against doctors,” she says to my sister. “People like doctors. Grey’s Anatomy, right? Why couldn’t one of you be a doctor? Ah, well, marrying a doctor is the second best thing.”
Not gonna lie, the word “marry” freaks me out. I don’t want to think about marriage. Just the idea of another long-term relationship scares the crap out of me.
No, I’m not going through that shit again.
Men just want to use me. They only care about what I can do for them, and when I stop being useful...
Well, they start being sloppy with their affairs.
I was so involved in my work—my actual job, plus the work I was doing for free for Stephen—that I was blind to what he was doing.
Nope, never again. I will never let another man pull the wool over my eyes like that.
I’m well aware that some women—like my friends—have good relationships, and I’m happy for them. Still, I’m convinced that every man who’s interested in me is untrustworthy. Past experience and all that.
My brother, Alan, walks into the kitchen. He’s eight years older than me, and he’s an assistant professor in the earth sciences department at the university. He usually comes over for dinner on Wednesdays.
“What’s this about marrying a doctor?” he asks.
“Valerie has a new boyfriend!” Mom shoves the phone in his face. “He’s a doctor.”
“Like me.”
“Wah, not like you! PhD in geology is not the same as a medical degree.”
Alan laughs. He likes saying that to annoy Mom.
Still, although he might not have done exactly what she wanted, my mother is proud of Alan. He’s a professor. He has multiple science degrees. He’s respectable.
Me, on the other hand...
I work at an ice cream shop.
She used to brag about me. I graduated second in my class at university, ahead of all the boys, and my mom was proud, even if she jokingly asked why I didn’t come in first.
I got a job at an engineering software firm, and she approved of that, too. She wasn’t pleased that Stephen and I were living together without being married; she thought I should live at home until we got married or, at the very least, engaged. But she didn’t make too much of a fuss.
And then, over one horrible week last year, my job and relationship imploded. I’d hoped she’d have more righteous anger on my behalf, but she acted like it was partly my fault, and now she’s pissed I’m working for Chloe.
Alan turns to me. “You have a boyfriend? I thought you weren’t interested in dating again.”
Yeah, he’ll be harder to fool. My mom is lapping this up because it’s exactly what she wants, but Alan knows me better than she does.
The horrible truth? Mom loves me because of what I can do for her. A daughter who’s dating a doctor? She can brag about that. It makes her look good—and I haven’t done anything to make her look good in a while.
I know she loves me beyond that, but sometimes she cares about other people’s opinions a little too much.
“Yeah, I have a boyfriend,” I say. “No big deal. What’s new with you?”
Alan doesn’t answer my question. “What’s his last name?”
“Nope. We’re not doing this. I’m not telling you his last name so you can Google the shit out of him.”
“Valerie!” Mom says.
“I thought you said I was a lost cause? Why do you care that I swear?”
Alan shoves his hands in his pockets. “This Dr. Peter better treat you well.”
“Of course he will!” Mom says. “He looks like he’s very sweet, and he has kind eyes.”
“Pretty sure you said Stephen had kind eyes, too,” I mutter. I have no idea what “kind eyes” means. Sounds like bullshit.
“You did,” Sabrina says. “I remember.”
“Kind and sweet,” Mom says. “But still sexy.”
“Mom!” Sabrina and I say in unison.
We don’t agree on much, but neither of us wants to hear our mother say “sexy.”
“Will you invite him over this week?” Mom asks. “Or we can go to a restaurant near the hospital if that is easier for him.”
Hmm. I really need to give some thought to how long I want to continue this fake-boyfriend charade. I still can’t believe he accepted. I was kind of joking, but then he agreed, and I thought...sure, why not?
It’s nice that my mother is happy with me for the first time in ages, and I loved seeing the shock on Sabrina’s face when she saw his picture. I’m having fun, even if my mom used the dreaded S-word and M-word.
“Sexy” and “marriage,” I mean.
I still don’t understand Peter’s motives for agreeing to this—doing it all for the novelty of a fake relationship seems a bit much—but I have my eyes wide open, and I won’t let him take advantage of me.
But although I initially came up with this plan when Mom suggested I have Peter over this week, I don’t feel ready for that yet.
“Nope,” I tell her. “He’ll come over eventually, just not for a few weeks. I don’t want to scare him off.”
“I’m not scary!” Mom protests.
Sabrina snorts in response.
“Look,” I say. “This is my first relationship since Stephen, and I’m taking it slow, okay? Meet-the-parents dinners are not happening right away.”
“Hmph. You better not meet his parents before he meets us.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
That’s one promise I can keep. This entire charade is for the benefit of my family, not his. I doubt he’s going to tell his parents that he has a girlfriend named Valerie.
* * *
I can’t wait until this day is over. My God.
I’ve been at Ginger Scoops since noon, and it’s eight thirty now. Only half an hour left, and then I can get out of here.
My brain is numb and my feet hurt and I’m just generally frustrated with humanity.
At two o’clock, there was a crying baby. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d just cried for a few minutes, but no, she wailed for half an hour while her parents stayed in the shop—they didn’t take her outside.
At three o’clock, two large families made a complete mess of the back corner, and I had to clean it up.
At four o’clock, I went to clean the washroom and found it was a mess, too.
At five thirty-three, someone complained that their green tea ice cream was too “tea-y” and could they please exchange it for some passionfruit ice cream?
At six thirty, I dropped the ice cream scoop on my foot.
At seven o’clock, a creepy old man asked me on a date.
At eight o’clock, there was an honest-to-God family feud in the ice cream shop. A man and two women were arguing loudly, their children were fighting, and guess what? There was another crying baby, too.
When I first started working for Chloe, we were preparing Ginger Scoops for opening, so it was just the two of us. That was nice, after everything I’d been through. I was working with my friend and helping her dreams come true, and it was a relief not to have to use my brain.
But then we opened and I had to deal with customers.
Many of them are just fine. They tell me what flavors they want, they pay, they talk to each other as they eat, and then they leave. I don’t get any pleasure out of serving them, but I don’t mind.
And then there are the entitled assholes and the out-of-control children whose parents make no effort to rein them in.
And now...
“Oh, no,” Chloe says. “Someone hurt Twinkle.”
Twinkle is the rocking unicorn in the corner of our shop, except she now appears to be a rocking horse because her horn has been broken off.
I don’t know how I missed that.
“I’ll superglue it back on,” I say.
“It won’t look the same.”
“It’ll be fine.” I just want to get the hell out of here.
But today, I’m not going home after I finish my shift. No, I’m going to Cheese & Me with Peter. Our first “date.”
I’m not excited. It’s not a real date, after all.
Okay, maybe I’m a teeny-tiny bit excited, but that’s it. More than anything, I’m ready to stop serving people who make giant messes and break off fucking unicorn horns.
Just after nine, Chloe’s boyfriend comes in, and they do a little too much smooching by the front door. To my annoyance, I can’t help some stupid envy from bubbling up inside me.
A couple minutes later, Peter’s face appears at the door, and I hang up my apron and gesture him inside.
He smiles at me. “You ready to go?”
“Yep.”
“Who’s this?” Drew asks.
“Peter. He’s my fake boyfriend.”
“I’ll explain later.” Chloe presses a kiss to her real boyfriend’s cheek. “Wait here for a few minutes while I finish cleaning up.”
“I’m so confused right now,” Drew mutters.
As I follow Peter outside, I can’t help smiling.
I’m just glad to be done work and going out for cheesecake, right?
That’s all it is. It has nothing to do with Peter So.
* * *
Cheese & Me is, not surprisingly, fairly busy. It’s a Friday night, and there are lots of young people here, ready to stuff their faces with cheesecake and cheese tarts.
“Do you like Japanese cheesecake?” Peter asks as we wait in line. “Or are we just here to be seen?”
“I enjoy it.”
But, yes. The reason I specifically asked him to accompany me to Cheese & Me is because Daphne’s daughter Chrissy works here. She’s a few years younger than me, finishing up her degree, and I know she works Friday nights. And if she sees me here with Peter, then she’ll tell her mom, who will tell my mom, and my ruse will look real.
Yep, that’s my devious plan.
We get to the front of the line and order some tea and a Japanese cheesecake. Unfortunately, the person taking our order isn’t Chrissy, but Chrissy’s the one who brings the tea and cheesecake to our table a few minutes later.
Excellent.
“Valerie!” she says in her too-loud voice that drives me bananas. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Chrissy, this is Peter. My boyfriend.”
Chrissy can only stay to chat for a minute, but that’s okay. She’s seen us. I’ve done what I wanted to accomplish.
Now it’s time to eat. I turn my attention to the cheesecake, which is seven or eight inches in diameter, with a light brown top. I cut it in quarters and put one on a plate for Peter and one on a plate for me.
I pop a bite of the cake into my mouth. It’s light and airy and not overly sweet, and I close my eyes to savor it. When I open them, Peter is peering at me curiously.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“It was not nothing. It was something.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
I grab his plate and pull it toward me. “Tell me.”
He laughs. “Why does it matter?”
“I don’t like it when people don’t tell me things!”
“Alright.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I like watching you enjoy your food. That’s all.” He gives me a hesitant smile.
“Oh. Really?”
“Yeah.”
Huh. Well, that was unexpected.
I push his cheesecake back toward him. He shifts his hand toward mine on the table, then immediately pulls back.
“Sorry,” he says. “We haven’t discussed physical affection. Like, can I hold your hand? Can I kiss you on the cheek? It would probably be best if we did a little of that, at least when the people you want to fool are nearby, but just let me know. I’m not sure of the protocol for fake relationships. If you don’t want me to touch you at all, it’s okay.”
I laugh, but I appreciate this. I do.
“You can touch me in the ways you described. When we’re in public.” It’s a bit loud in here, but that’s good—it would be tough to overhear our conversation.
“What about this?”
A bite of cheesecake appears before my face.
Ah. He wants to feed me. I glance around the room and find Chrissy nearby, looking in our general direction. Perfect. As I lean forward, my heart starts beating a little faster, but it’s not unpleasant.
Weird.
I eat the cheesecake from his fork. It’s delicious.
“It’s a good thing they didn’t have durian cheesecake,” he says. “I bet you would have insisted on getting it.”
“Of course. I’ve never had durian cheesecake before. I can just imagine how amazing that would be.”
“Bleh.” He wrinkles his nose. “You’d probably get it all over my shirt somehow, and then I would stink.”
“And you’d use it as an excuse to remove your shirt so you could show off your body.”
“Are you saying you like my body?”
My cheeks heat. “You’re decent-looking, and you clearly don’t sit in a cubicle all day. That’s just the truth.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up, and ooh, that’s rather sexy. I want to kiss him.
Oh my God, where did that come from?
Here’s the thing. I find the thought of kissing a man I hardly know—a stranger at a bar, let’s say—completely unappealing. I might find someone a little attractive at the beginning, but it always takes a while before I can even think of going further, before I can really feel sexually attracted to them.
But the idea of kissing Peter right now...it actually sounds kind of nice.
It’s been a very long time since that’s happened to me, and I’m thrown off by my reaction. He’s just a guy.
We chat about nothing in particular and eat cheesecake for a little while. Peter is pretty easy to be with, actually, and I enjoy his light teasing.
I look at my watch. “It’s getting late. I should head home.”
“Sure. Let me ask for a box so you can take the rest with you.” He gestures to the cake.
A few minutes later, we’re walking outside in the warm-ish September air. I just survived my first “date” since the whole Stephen debacle. A fake date, but still. I’m pleased with how it went.
“Let’s do something on Sunday,” I say, before I know what I’m doing.
Peter agrees.
I head to the subway, shaking my head at the spur-of-the-moment decision to ask him out again. It’s not like we need to see each other every two days to keep up this ruse, right?
When I get home, I’m practically tackled by my mother.
“Ah, you’re smiling!” she says. “Good date?”
“It was.”
“I heard you went to Cheese & Me. Daphne called to say Chrissy saw you there!”
Well, that was faster than expected.
“Yes, we went out for cheesecake.” I lift up the box with the leftovers.
“Did he kiss you?” Mom makes loud smooching noises.
I glare at her. “I’m going up to bed.”
Once I’m in bed, I do not think about Peter.
No, I most certainly do not.