Page 15 of Untruly With You

“It’s still your brother’s wedding,” Laine says. “Isn’t that pretty important?”

Laine doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. And she has made it clear before that she’s convinced that all siblings should act like they’re in an episode ofThe Brady Bunch.

I glare at the ceiling. “In theory, yes, it’s important. But in theory, it might also kill me.”

“Sutton, I know your family is…complicated.”

“Clearly.”

“But I still think you should go.”

“And not only face my estranged father and brother, but also show up with nothing to show for the past six years. A mountain of student debt, no career to speak of, no place of my own, certainlynoweddingof my own coming up.” I sink into the tangle of blankets, wishing they would swallow me up. “My dad always said coming to New York would be a waste of my time. I wanted to prove him wrong. And to show up totheirwedding, single? As if I’m still hung up on her all these years later?”

After a few minutes of tense silence and lip-biting, Laine perks up and taps her fingers on the countertop. “I may not be able to get rid of your student debt, or hire you as an editor, or buy you an apartment.ButI can help you with that last problem.”

I scoff. “You know someone who wants to go out with a guy with depression and panic attacks and who spends money he doesn’t have on books?”

“I know a girl who owes you a big favor, who wouldn’t be half-bad company on a cross-country flight, and who happens to be enthralled by the idea of seeing you in full cowboy form.”

For a few seconds, I try to imagine Laine in West River, Montana. Would she still wear her trademark red lipstick? Would she still insist on accessorizing every outfit beyond belief? Would she like lying in the tall grass of the ranch like I used to as a boy?

“So, what do you say?” Laine asks. She moves to the edge of the bed, grabbing me by my elbow. It occurs to me we’vetouched more today than we have in the past three months combined.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on! We’re already best friends, right? How hard could it be to pretend that goes beyond platonic?”

Not hard at all, I think to myself as I study Laine’s face for the thousandth time.

“I’m sorry, am I not a suitable enough fake girlfriend for you?” Laine jokes.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Laine.”

“It’ll befuuuuun,” she insists. “Wedding aside, you can teach me how to ride a horse. We can go fishing. I can finally stargaze for the first time in my life. It sounds amazing. Besides, you can’t run away from your past forever. You need to reconcile with it.”

“But I have work.”

“Screw work!”

Screw work—fortoday, at least.

It’s hard to focus on the tasks when the imminent marriage of your brother and ex is looming overhead. Laine spent all of Sunday trying to convince me to go back to Montana for the wedding. And now that I’m alone in my gray cubicle, my mind goes back to Laine’s many, many arguments in favor of a trip to Montana.

She’s right, I know. I need to cross the chasm between my family and me. The prospect of returning home is both daunting and enticing. Part of me wants to face my past, confront my father, and mend broken relationships. Mom and Frankie have taken the occasional trip to the city to see me. Once a week, they each call me to catch up. Still, I missMom’s warm hugs and the sound of Frankie's echoing laughter.

However, another part of me is in shambles at the thought of pretending Laine and I are a couple. Sure, I’ve imagined how it would feel to walk hand in hand with her, to curl her hair around my fingers, to touch those always-red lips. But I hadn’t imagined it as part of a ruse.

When the clock hits five, I check my phone. As usual, there’s a text from Laine. This time, she sent a picture of worn, red cowgirl boots.

Found these thrifting. It’s kismet.

Another text is waiting for me. This one from Frankie.

Wells is convinced he can wear his wranglers to his wedding. See why I need you here on my side?

I groan, stretching my back as I stand, as if I can physically push the stress right out of my body. Right as I’m about to shut my laptop, a new email pings in my inbox. Never one to leave an email unread, I slump back down in my chair, and I swear I can actually feel the stress piling back on me. When I read the subject line, though, I stand back up from shock, practically jumping into the air.

Job Offer: Assistant Editor at Imagineer Books.

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