Page 21 of Personal Escort

Here’s the weird thing about jealousy. It doesn’t matter if the guy is real or not. It doesn’t even matter if the asshole has your middle name, not that Cara knows that.

I’m still burning up at the idea ofAlexholding her hand and walking her home.

Cara: I didn’t make a note of whether or not he came in. Nana wouldn’t ask that.

Toby: He didn’t. A chaste kiss goodbye at the door.

Cara: Not that chaste. We have to like each other enough to rush to the altar.

Toby: Right. Because he’s waiting for marriage.

Cara: Ooh, that’s good.

No, that’s called self-preservation.

Toby: Do you have a timeline for when you want this to happen?

Cara: Nana was surprisingly understanding. I don’t think I’m in a huge rush. Maybe in a month or two? Have to let the courtship unfold.

That will get me past the annual shareholders meeting.

Toby: That makes sense. And shouldn’t you be in bed now?

Cara: Maybe I was up late texting with Alex.

Toby: Maybe Alex should respect your need for a solid eight hours.

Cara: LOL

Cara: Good night, Toby

CHAPTER TEN

CARA

THE NEXT WEEK FLIES BY. I spend my days listening to interviews with research subjects and comparing what I hear to the written transcripts which have been coded with qualitative data analysis. I’m looking for audio cues that change the words used, that might undercut the analysis based on text alone.

It’s fascinating stuff, but repetitive after a while.

So I spend my evenings planning both my fake wedding and my fake courtship, because the former is inevitable when I’m fully in charge of the latter.

Since we’re eloping, we could just go to City Hall. But that poses the logistical problem of us not actually getting married, because Alex is going to be played by some random guy Toby’s going to source for me when the time comes. We can hardly get a real wedding license, and I don’t think the City Hall people would be down with a fake one.

No, I’m going to have to hire a wedding officiant who is fine with performing some kind of commitment ceremony, knowing there’s no paperwork, just for photographs.

Nana has no idea the hoops I’m leaping through to make her happy.

On the weekend, I take the ferry over to Toronto Island, and imagine doing it with Alex. Or Toby.

It hasn’t escaped my notice that my log of Alex-related activities echoes my interactions with Toby.

Monday: Alex had to work late, but he sent me a quick text to say hi. That was sweet.

Tuesday: Tried to play it cool, because this is all new and we’re just getting to know each other, but I saw a billboard that I knew would make Alex laugh, so I texted him a picture of it. He sent back a GIF of a laughing horse. I’ve looked at it every day since.

Wednesday: We talked on the phone tonight. Discussed weekend plans. Might go to Toronto Island.

Thursday: Looking forward to the weekend. Alex has been working non-stop on something big at work, he’s distracted.

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