Page 52 of Yours, For Now

It was Iris who sighed. "Ah, young love. I remember when Edgardo looked at me like that."

Lina surveyed me, as if seeing me anew. It became harder to breathe, a prickling sensation snatching my lungs. It insisted that I hide what I felt, but I didn't. It would help us if Iris could see it. Even if it made my hands tremble.

"Do you feel like ice cream?" I asked, the words stumbling out of my mouth.

Lina smiled. "Yes! Always."

I nodded and waved to Iris, who closed the door behind us.

We drove in silence for a few minutes. I couldn't say it was comfortable, because it wasn't— tension built in me. It pushed me to tie what I felt into a thousand knots, so I didn't do what I really wanted to do.

"You know, you're good at pretending to be an amazing boyfriend," Lina said out of the blue. "I think my mom is ready to start creating a wedding guest list."

That cooled down my feelings fast.

I scoffed. "Sorry, but I draw the line at a fake wedding."

I turned left, toward the location for a food truck I'd looked up earlier.

She laughed. "Don't you want to get married? Remember, I'm a woman and I’m counting down the days until you propose."

Her words dripped with sarcasm.

I smiled. "I want to get married. One day. For my parents, you know? They dream of that for Vi and me."

"I can't see that far. Until my work is settled and doesn't feel like a battle anymore, I can't imagine thinking of anything else. Otherwise I'd feel like I'm proving my family right and I'd hate that. Any serious relationship that could end in marriage before my dad retires would make them think I was ready to give up working."

"I can see that, but it's different for me. I can't date because if it turned serious, how could I choose? Ask my partner to let me work late every night until the transition to CEO was complete, be okay with being third on my list… I couldn't. That's why I didn't plan to date until the worst was behind me. That is, I didn't plan on dating, until you, Martínez and Associates, and your family's machismo got in the way."

Despite the web of confused feelings making a home among my organs, saying that out loud calmed me. We both had personal reasons not to let this fake relationship become real. And for me, one of those was that I wouldn't ask Lina to allow my half-assed attempt at passing our relationship for real to become our normal.

Several seconds went by before she answered. "I'm sorry this is disrupting your life so much."

I frowned. I wasn't sure how much I'd meant my words to sound like that. "It hasn't been that bad. It hasn't been great, either, but we've managed. Right?"

"Exactly what a fake girlfriend wants to hear," she joked. "It hasn't been great, but we've managed, yes."

Her words verged on self-deprecation, like my statement was an indictment on how much I took pleasure in my time with her.

I pursed my lips, hesitating as to how much I wanted to say. "When I say it's not that bad… I should rephrase. I've enjoyed the time I spent with you. It's just that things aren't what they could be… or should be, if this were real."

We reached the public area where the food truck would be that night. I parked near a walking path; trees lined the biking lanes where a few people strolled. Night approached, the sky in many colors, but dusk advanced enough that the park lights had switched on.

"What would be different, if this were real?" She turned to me, eyes bright.

"Maybe I'd ask my assistant to find out where they sell the best ice cream in North America, and then we'd take the plane there for a weekend so we could have it. Instead of me driving us to an artisan food truck."

"But I like this plan, too," she said. "I'm glad I've gotten to know you better."

We studied each other, sitting in my car, the park and its lights around us. If this were happening two years down the line, this was precisely where I'd kiss her.

I looked at her lips. They looked soft. Inviting. Two years down the line seemed like too far away.

"Ready for dessert?" she asked.

It took me a second to realize she meant ice cream.

"So why did you invite me out?" I asked. We'd just gotten our ice cream from a truck that boasted interesting flavors. I'd picked lavender and Gabe lemon; we'd taken our cones, heavy with cold deliciousness, and strolled away. "We typically go to your place and work, for our fake dates. We're having something close to a real date, instead."