Chapter 2 - NINETEEN MINUTESOur first fake date took place twenty-eight hours later at Rachel’s favorite restaurant in River North.
The plan was embarrassingly simple.
We wouldn’t post anything ourselves.
We wouldn’t tell friends.
We would simply go somewhere we knew people from Rachel and Daniel’s social circle occasionally went and let coincidence do the work.
Michael arrived early.
Of course he did.
He was the sort of person who probably arrived early for dental appointments.
I wore a black dress Daniel had always disliked.
“Too dramatic,” he used to say.
That evening, dramatic felt perfect.
Michael stood when I approached the table.
His eyes moved over me and stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m adjusting.”
“To?”
“You not looking like someone who cried into a coffee cup yesterday.”
“Waterproof mascara.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
I sat.
“You clean up well too.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get used to compliments.”
“Rule six?”
“We only made five.”
“We made six.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You counted?”
“I’m an architect.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I like lists.”
Against my will, I smiled.
The waiter arrived.
We ordered wine.
Then sat there feeling absurd.
“What do fake couples discuss?” I whispered.
“The weather?”
“Too intimate.”
“Parking?”
“Scandalous.”
He smiled.
It transformed his face.
I realized I had almost never seen Michael genuinely smile before.
Rachel had always dominated rooms.
She told stories loudly, laughed loudly, touched people when she spoke.
Michael usually stood beside her like punctuation.
That night, without Rachel, he seemed different.
Still reserved.
But not cold.
At minute thirteen, Michael murmured, “Three tables behind you.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn around.”
Naturally, I wanted to turn around immediately.
“Who?”
“Rachel’s former coworker. Red hair.”
“Melissa?”
“I think so.”
I lifted my wineglass.
“Has she noticed?”
“Repeatedly.”
“Good.”
“She just picked up her phone.”
My pulse accelerated.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“Are we terrible people?”
“Ask me tomorrow.”
I laughed.
Michael leaned closer.
“Smile.”
“What?”
“She’s taking a picture.”
I looked at him.
His face was only inches away.
The smell of his cologne reached me.
Clean.
Cedar, maybe.
Not Daniel.
That mattered more than it should have.
“Claire.”
I smiled.
Nineteen minutes after we sat down, my phone buzzed.
Then again.
Then four times in rapid succession.
Are you at dinner with MICHAEL?
Claire please tell me Melissa is hallucinating.
What is happening???
Then Daniel’s name appeared.
Three words.
That was fast.
My heartbeat thudded.
For a moment, I was back in the conference room staring at his airport photograph.
But this time the shock belonged to him.
I showed Michael.
He read it.
“Don’t answer.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
Two minutes later, his phone buzzed.
Michael looked.
Then turned the screen toward me.
Rachel.
Seriously?
Something broke between us.
Not emotionally.
Something tense.
For the first time in two days, we laughed.
Really laughed.
The kind that makes you lower your head because the situation is too absurd.
The waiter looked concerned.
Michael wiped at his eyes.
“Oh, they hate this.”
“Apparently.”
“Do you feel better?”
I considered lying.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
That frightened me.
Revenge was supposed to feel ugly.
Instead, for ten minutes, it felt like oxygen.
We left separately.
That had been my rule.
But outside, under the streetlights, Michael said, “Daniel is watching.”
My blood chilled.
“Where?”
“Across the street.”
I turned instinctively.
“No. Online.”
He nodded toward my phone.
“Your message says delivered immediately. Rachel’s too. They’re probably comparing notes.”
“So?”
“So walk with me to the car.”
I understood.
I slipped my arm through his.
Michael went very still.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Rule four.”
“No physical affection unless someone can see us.”
“That was rule five.”
“You really did memorize them.”
“I told you.”
We walked half a block.
At the SUV, Michael opened the passenger door.
“For appearances?”
“For appearances.”
I got in.
He drove around the block before taking me home.
For the next four days, nothing happened.
Then everything happened.
Someone posted the photograph from River North.
By Monday morning, Daniel’s sister had called me.
Rachel’s cousin had texted Michael.
Three mutual friends had requested explanations.
I gave none.
At work, Ellen shut my office door.
“I’m going to say something, and you’re allowed to tell me it’s none of my business.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Whatever you’re doing, make sure you’re doing it because it helps you.”
My throat tightened.
Ellen knew.
Everyone knew.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That is probably the most sensible answer.”
She sat down.
“I also want you to know the Pittsburgh account is available again.”
I blinked.
The account I had left because Daniel complained about my travel.
“I thought Jason had it.”
“He does. He’s overwhelmed.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying if you want back in, ask.”
Old Claire would have thought about Daniel’s schedule.
About whether he would feel neglected.
About whether traveling twice a month made me selfish.
That Claire had spent years adjusting herself around a man who had been making room for someone else.
“I want it.”
Ellen nodded.
“Then it’s yours.”
That decision was the first thing I did entirely for myself.
It felt surprisingly frightening.
Dad came home from the hospital on Tuesday.
I drove my parents home.
Mom settled him into his recliner, arranged medication on the side table, then followed me into the kitchen.
“Tell me.”
I stared through the window at the backyard.
Dad’s bird feeder swayed in the wind.
“Daniel left.”
Mom went still.
“With Rachel.”
Her hand moved to her mouth.
“Oh, Claire.”
“They went somewhere together. I don’t know where.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
Her face folded with pain.
“And you sat in that hospital all night?”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
“Tell me.”
“Dad had just had a heart attack.”
“I’m not Dad.”
“I know.”
She crossed the kitchen and hugged me.
I let her.
After a moment she whispered, “I never liked how Rachel borrowed things.”
I pulled back.
Despite myself, I laughed.
“What?”
Mom looked defensive.
“Every time she came over, she complimented something until you offered it to her.”
“Mom.”
“I’m serious.”
“She stole my husband.”
“Which rather proves my point.”
I laughed harder.
Then cried.
Mom held me through both.
Dad found out two days later.
Not from me.
Daniel called him.
I didn’t learn this until Dad called me that evening.
“Come over.”
His voice was weak but unmistakably angry.
When I arrived, he was sitting at the kitchen table despite strict instructions to rest.
Mom hovered nearby.
Dad pointed to a chair.
“Sit.”
I sat.
“Daniel called.”
My entire body stiffened.
“He what?”
“He said he wanted to explain before I heard a distorted version.”
Of course he did.
Even after running away, Daniel wanted narrative control.
“What did he say?”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“That he made mistakes. That the marriage was already troubled. That he never intended to hurt us.”
“Us?”
“He said us.”
I stared at the table.
Then Dad did something unexpected.
He reached across and covered my hand.
“I told him I was not the person he owed explanations to.”
Tears rose immediately.
“I didn’t tell you because—”
“I know why.”
“He said what?”
Dad’s eyes sharpened.
“That I should understand people can’t help who they love.”
I almost laughed.
“What did you say?”
Dad paused.
“I said a grown man can help how he behaves.”
Mom nodded approvingly.
Dad continued.
“Then I hung up because your mother said my blood pressure was going up.”
“It was.”
Mom pointed at him.
Dad ignored her.
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I blinked.
He squeezed my fingers.
“Because if you told me you were fine four days after your husband ran off with your friend, I’d worry.”
That night Michael texted.
How is your dad?
I stared at the message.
We weren’t supposed to use each other as therapists.
We weren’t supposed to become friends.
But I answered.
Home. Complaining about low-sodium soup. So probably recovering.
Michael replied:
Promising sign.
Then:
Rachel called me.
My stomach dropped.
Did you answer?
Three dots appeared.
Yes.
I called him.
“What did she want?”
“Apparently we need to talk about boundaries.”
I barked a laugh.
“Rachel wants boundaries?”
“Specifically regarding you.”
“What did she say?”
“She said what we’re doing is cruel.”
For three seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Then: “Cruel?”
“Yes.”
“She left us at an airport.”
“I mentioned that.”
“What did she say?”
Michael was quiet.
“She said what happened between her and Daniel was complicated.”
“Of course.”
“And that us getting together immediately makes it look like we never cared.”
I stood from the couch.
“She is worried about how this makes her look.”
“Yes.”
That cold satisfaction returned.
“We need another date.”
Michael laughed softly.
“I thought you might say that.”
But the second date felt different.
We went to a neighborhood jazz bar where nobody we knew was supposed to be.
No strategy.
No witnesses.
I realized that halfway through our second drink.
“Why are we here?”
Michael looked toward the small stage.
“Because I like jazz.”
“No. Why are we here?”
His gaze returned to me.
Then he understood.
“No one knows us here.”
“Exactly.”
He considered that.
“We could leave.”
I should have said yes.
Instead, I said, “I like jazz too.”
So we stayed.
And that was the first mistake neither of us regretted.
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