Page 27 of Meet Stan

No way.

Chapter Eleven

Stan

The night at the baby shower proved to be a real game-changer. I’m not sure when it happened, or how, but at some point, the lines blurred between our pretend relationship and the real thing.

When we were on the dance floor, I almost said something we both probably would have regretted. I guessed at the time it was a good thing I’d never given voice to the thoughts in my head.

Then, to top it all off, there had been that kiss. Man, what a kiss. For a moment I totally forgot it was a fake relationship. I gave myself over fully to the moment, and Ivy certainly hadn’t complained.

When I got back to my place, I wound up sitting on the terrace, staring at the slowly moving traffic below. The city that never sleeps seems like a living thing from up in the air. The slowly moving lights through streets sort of look like blood running through vessels. Brightly lit municipal centers could be seen as brains, handling the higher-order functions.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, all too tiny beings in a world of confusion. Possibly on a collision course to a world of hurt.

I took a puff of my cigar but discovered it had gone out. I didn’t bother relighting it. I just looked out over the city some more and pined for Ivy.

We’d been a smash hit at the party. It had been a lot easier to sell everyone on the fact Ivy and I were an item than I’d ever dreamed. Even Chandler seemed to think he was all for it. I supposed that would be a good thing. That is, when it came time to reveal my ruse to everyone and show them that their loves aren’t any more real than my fake one.

Only I wasn’t feeling fake yearning for my fake girlfriend. I was feeling a very real yearning. I wasn’t used to it. I hadn’t yearned for much in a long time. Not since I’d made my fortune. Sure, there were things that I wanted, like a controlling interest in Mastercraft Beer, but it’s not the same thing as yearning.

I was about halfway through my second glass of scotch when it hit me that I was getting hung up on my fake girlfriend. I laughed it off, then took myself to bed, confident that in the morning, after a good night’s sleep, I wouldn’t be troubled by such feelings any longer.

Of course, how could I have known I would lay down and start dreaming of her the moment my head touched the pillow?

In my dream we’d been married a while, with kids even, and then one day I came home from work and she was just gone. It had all been pretend anyway, why was I upset?

When I awakened the next day, I was in a foul mood. My yearning for more of Ivy’s company corrupted and spoiled as it stewed in my residual anger and resentment. By the time I made it out the door for work, I was almost angry with her.

I got to the building as the sun just peeked above the horizon. I rode the elevator to the top floor and walked right past her door on the way to my own office. I was tempted to stop and see if she was still in yet.

My assistant beamed a smile at me as I came in the door. Like everyone else, she assumed my fake relationship was for real. I realized I couldn’t come drag ass in through the door like a dog who’d been kicked.

People who were fabulously in love didn’t act like that. I straightened my posture, put a smile on my face and greeted her warmly.

I found that she had a cup of coffee waiting for me on my desk. That’s the weird thing about dating someone. People are so happy for you they start giving you stuff. At least, that’s how it is for me. Maybe it’s a Pavlovian thing. They think they can encourage my behavior being in line with social norms as long as they give me a reward afterward.

I have to admit, it was damn good coffee. From one of those little food truck places that have become all the rage. I enjoyed the brew and tried to get to work while pointedly not thinking about my pretend, totally fake girlfriend who was in an office not a stone’s throw from where I sat.

I needed to talk to her, and about business matters, as well. I needed her to authorize the expenditure of additional funds to finance the pension fund. It was open and shut that she would agree. But technically, going through proper channels, I needed her seal of approval as she was acting in Chandler’s stead on that project.

I went ahead and transferred the funds anyway. I didn’t want to talk to her, not when my head was all muddled up with fake relationships versus real feelings, and which one I could really count on at the end of the day.

That settled, I headed down a few floors to make a presentation on the Mastercraft project in front of one of our subsidiary boards. I powered through, despite being quite tired. It was more than physical. I wasn’t used to such an emotional wringer as I’d subjected myself to recently.

I hadn’t even considered catching the feels for Ivy, but I probably should have. I was going to have to deal with it somehow. I decided the best thing to do would be to not think about it. If I kept acting anxious because I feared getting too close, then our performance wouldn’t be convincing.

Or maybe, on the inside somewhere I was afraid to look, I wanted to forget I was just pretending to date her.

I wrapped up the meeting with the subsidiary board, and checked the time. I had a lunch meeting scheduled with the interim project manager—also my fake girlfriend. I was looking forward to it in spite of myself.

I headed across the street for some take-out, since I wanted to get out of the office for a bit. The fresh, crisp air did the trick, as well as the noise and bustle from the street. I felt refreshed and ready for what the afternoon would bring.

When I showed up at her office door with the takeout a few minutes early, she smiled at me but it didn’t reach her eyes. I knew something was wrong right away. She shut the door behind us and put her hands on her hips.

“Why did you divert funds into the Mastercraft account without talking to me first?”

“I didn't want to bother you. I knew you were going to approve.”

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