Page 13 of Pretend for Me

Perhaps our fate was already sealed. Between my frequent business trips and our increasingly disconnected relationship, we’d both gotten complacent; we both stopped fighting for us. Our physical distance had only widened the emotional chasm between us. I think it was in those times of loneliness that Camila turned to her faith.

Still, that Camila would literally go and become a nun after being with me for five years?ThatI hadn’t seen coming.

She was always a compassionate, service-minded person—in fact, that quality had captivated me all those years ago. Her kindness and generosity were a direct contrast to the type of people I was surrounded by daily, and I found myself drawn to her sweetness. But despite those things, there was alwayssomething missing between us, an intense magnetism that keeps two people intertwined.

Something akin to the love my parents still share.

I thought we could move past it, that maybe we didn’t even need it. We were both decent people who cared for one another; what more could anyone need? But now that I’ve had time to reflect on our relationship, I realize how important that missing connection, that spark, was.

A spark I’ve never felt with anyone . . . until this morning.

I brush the thought aside as soon as it surfaces, reassuring myself that the only “spark” I felt with the eccentric woman was the zing of her clippers getting a little too cozy with my scalp.

“Anyway, that wasn’t the point,” Mom says, shaking her head.

“Then what was the point?” I ask.

“I know you can’t give it to me, Dev, and I want you to know I don’t blame you. Honestly, it just slipped out and . . .”

“What is it?” I urge. “Tell me.”

She takes a breath as if gathering her resolve. “I wish I could see you get married.”

My heart comes to an abrupt stop.

That was definitelynotwhat I was expecting her to say.

Married? She wants to see me get married? How? When? To whom?

I know I just told her I’d do anything to fulfill her wish, but . . . getmarried?

She must see the blood drain from my face because she places a hand on my cheek. “Sweetheart, it’s just a wish. People often die with unfulfilled wishes. You don’t owe me anything. You already have so much on your plate, so please,” her voice quivers, regret evident in her expression, “don’t take this to heart, I was just?—”

“Well, that’s not a lot to ask.” I hear myself saying, like I’m being puppeteered by someone else entirely.

What the fuck are you even saying, Dev? Did those clippers nick your brain?

My mom’s eyes flit between mine in shock. “What?”

I swallow as my mind whirls to come up with something,anything. It’s my dying mother’s last wish. One I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t fulfill. And I told her I would if I could, so even if I have to fly in a mail-order bride to do it, I fucking will, if only to ensure my mother attends my wedding.

“It’s not a lot to ask, Mom. In fact, I’ve been, um, dating someone.”

“What?” both my parents ask aghast at the same time.

“Yeah,” I lie, torn between excitement and guilt. “We’ve kept things private. You remember how overwhelming it was when the media constantly followed Camila and me? Well, I’ve been dating this . . . woman, and we’ve talked about marriage.”

Mom’s face lights up for the first time in a long time, her hand finding her chest. “Oh, Dev! Are you serious?”

My heart hammers as I lean into the fib. “With your health and everything, I hadn’t brought it up, but yeah, I’ve found someone I want to marry, and if your wish is to see us?—”

“It is!” Tears stream down Mom’s face, her shoulders trembling. “It’s my only wish, Dev.”

I steel my nerves, determined to do anything for the woman who’s given me so much. “Then consider it done.”

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