Page 12 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

A little while later, my phone chimes in my pocket. When I pull it out, Blair’s name pops up on the screen. Just what I fucking need today.

I click on the message, which reads: “I need your date’s full name for the place cards.”

Shit.

I could give her a different name, tell her that Marlow and I broke up. I’m sure Blair would get a kick out of that. She seems to think that my preference for single-night relationships is a testament to the fact that I’ve never found anyone else as amazing as her. In reality, it’s a testament to the fact that our relationship was so bad that it scared me off from getting caught up in another one, at least for the foreseeable future.

Maybe I can find someone who bears a passing resemblance to Marlow and take her instead. Another leggy redhead who will agree to be my date to an out-of-town wedding in less than a week and to be called the wrong name the entire time.

So, basically Nicole Kidman with amnesia.

I’m so fucked.

Even if I could find someone else who vaguely resembled Marlow in this small town in the next few days, Blair would never buy it. I saw the way she glared at Marlow at the bar, taking stock of every perfection and every flaw. She’s already committed Marlow’s face to memory.

Admittedly, I sort of enjoyed that part. There was something satisfying about the look on Blair’s face as she assessed the woman on my arm that night. As much as I hate to admit it, Marlow doesn’t have a lot of flaws. Physically, at least. Her personality is another story.

The real question is: Will it be more annoying to spend one evening with Marlow, or a lifetime getting shit from my family for showing up to the wedding with a different woman?

I already know the answer, and I hate it.

On the short walk to Marlow’s office, I almost talk myself out of this a hundred times. The door to her office is open, but the room is empty. Maybe it’s a sign that this is a bad idea.

Just when I’m about to go back to my office and rethink this whole thing, a rustling noise catches my attention. At the end of the far hallway, Marlow is pulling boxes off the shelf in the storage room.

She’s too caught up in whatever she’s doing to notice me walking down the long hallway toward her. She has a box pulled halfway off the shelf and braced against her hip as she sifts through the contents.

“Hey, Marlow,” I say as I step into the doorway.

She jumps a little before glancing over at me. There’s a flash of confusion on her face before she returns my greeting with a simple, flat ‘Hey.’

Suddenly it occurs to me that she might say no. Even if Marlow feels guilty about the situation, she’s not obligated to help me fix it. Why would she want to? We aren’t even friends, and I wasn’t particularly nice to her at lunch. For the first time in years, I’m nervous to ask a woman out.

“Need help finding something?” I ask instead.

Marlow keeps digging through the box, not looking up at me as she answers, “Yeah, I’m looking for blank name tags for the interns that are starting next week.”

“Top shelf.”

I take a step forward and reach for a box on the highest shelf. This puts us a little too close for comfort. We each take a step back as I hand the box to her.

“Thanks,” she says quietly. Obviously, lunch didn’t do much to clear the air between us. In fact, she seems tenser than ever around me. We both stand there for a second, glancing anywhere but at each other. “Did you need something? Am I in your way?”

Marlow tries to step aside, but there’s nowhere to go in the cramped room.

“No, I just-”

I just came here to ask you on a fake date.

I close the supply closet door, effectively trapping us both inside. No one needs to overhear this. Marlow’s eyes widen with confusion. She glances around like she might need to make an emergency escape through the air duct.

Yeah, she’s definitely going to say no. Might as well get it over with.

“I just need to ask you something,” I finally say.

“Okay…”

“It’s going to be really awkward for us both.”

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