Lessons In Pretending
1263 Words
The schedule said to meet at the restaurant.
I memorized it. Seven o'clock. Marevna. 112 East Pearson. I had a plan built around that.
Then my doorbell rings at six fifty.
I open it and Caden is standing there in a dark suit and I almost say the schedule said the restaurant but I stop myself because that would tell him I memorized it and I don't want him knowing that about me yet.
He looks at my face. One straight look.
"You look good," he says.
"Thank you." I grab my coat. "You're early."
"The schedule was flexible."
"It had times on it."
"Most things do."
I pull the door shut behind me and we walk to the elevator. Neither of us fills the silence. Under different circumstances, I might consider that a good sign. Right now it just means I spend the whole elevator ride aware of exactly how small the space is.
---
In the car, he turns toward me.
"Two couples. Marcus and Diana Webb, Elliot Graves, and his partner James." He says it cleanly. No warmup. "Marcus is my oldest friend. He'll ask questions that sound casual. They're not. Diana is straightforward. Elliot watches. James is easy."
"What do they know?"
"That I'm engaged. That I've kept her to myself for eight months. Tonight they finally meet her."
"And how we met?"
"Professional event. I pursued you. Let me tell it that way if it comes up."
I look at him. "Why?"
"Because nobody who knows me believes I waited eight months for something I wasn't sure of. It reads cleaner if I were the one who decided."
He has already worked out how his own reputation makes our lie more convincing. He is telling me this the way you tell someone the weather.
I look out the window.
"Fine," I say.
---
Marevna is quiet and expensive and the host says Caden's name before he finishes walking through the door.
Marcus Webb is already at the table and he stands up fast when he sees us. He grins at me with genuine curiosity and zero subtlety about it.
"Finally," he says. He looks straight at me. "Nora Hayes. For two months I've been trying to get a name out of this man."
"Good evening," I say. "It's nice to meet you."
Marcus laughs. He looks at Caden. "I like her already."
Diana is already on her feet. She takes my hand in both of hers and says, "Please tell me you're nothing like him. We need balance at this table."
"I'm working on it," I say.
She laughs and pulls me toward my seat and I feel the tension in my shoulders drop half an inch without deciding to.
Elliot nods across the table. James pours wine before anyone asks.
---
Marcus starts on me within ten minutes.
He asks about my work. How I got into operations. Whether I enjoy it or just happen to be good at it. Every question sounds like a conversation. Every question has a bottom to it.
I answer cleanly. Enough to be believable. Not enough to give him anything real.
Then Caden puts his hand on my back when we sit down and I lose my train of thought for exactly two seconds.
It's brief. Light. Gone before I fully process it. But Marcus notices because Marcus notices everything and he smiles into his menu and says nothing.
When the question of how we met comes up Caden tells it. The gala. Seeing me near the back of the room. Not being able to stop thinking about her afterward.
His words.
The table believes him without a pause. I believe him and I know it isn't true and that is the most unsettling thing that has happened to me today and today has been a long day.
At some point, Marcus says something that makes everyone laugh. In the middle of it Caden glances at me. Just a check. Making sure I'm in on it.
I smile back.
It's only half-manufactured.
I turn to Diana before I can think about that too long.
---
Diana doesn't ask about Caden. She asks about me. What I read. Whether I actually cook or just tell myself I will. What part of Chicago did I grow up in?
Within twenty minutes I've told her three true things without planning to.
Then she leans slightly toward me.
"He's different with you," she says quietly. "Eight years I've known him. He's different." She sits back. "Whatever you're doing, don't stop."
I smile. "Thank you."
I pick up my wine glass.
Inside I'm thinking about a signature dated three days before I agreed to anything.
---
After dinner, the group moves to the bar.
Marcus pulls Caden into something work-related. Elliot's on his phone. James and Diana drift toward the window.
I'm alone for four minutes.
A man stops beside me. Mid forties. Well dressed. He introduces himself and I'm already calculating the exit when Caden appears at my left side.
No rush. No scene. He just stands there and puts his hand on my waist and looks at the man with an expression that has no aggression and no warmth and says everything without a single word.
The man leaves. Quickly.
I wait until he's gone. "I could have handled that."
"I know," Caden says.
He drops his hand and goes back to Marcus.
I stand there and feel the exact spot on my waist where his hand was. I'm more aware of it than I want to be. That irritates me.
I file it away somewhere I plan to ignore.
---
Diana finds me by the window.
We talk easily for a few minutes. Then she turns her wine glass slowly in her hand and says, "Can I ask you something personal?"
"Go ahead."
"Did Caden ever mention Sofia to you?"
I keep my face still. Every muscle is held in place. "He hasn't mentioned that name."
Diana is quiet for a moment. "Sofia is why every woman before you lasted one season. Exactly one." She pauses. "She's also why I'm surprised he's doing this at all."
I wait.
"I need you to be exactly who you say you are." Her voice is gentle but her eyes aren't. "Whatever this is between you two just be honest with him. He deserves that more than you know."
She squeezes my hand once and goes back to her husband.
I stand at the window and the city burns behind the glass and that name sits in the middle of everything I thought I understood.
Sofia.
One name. And everything shifts slightly. The contract. The photograph. The four words on the back. My mother. The way Caden checked on me in the middle of Marcus's joke like my comfort inside this evening was something he was actually tracking.
Like someone moved the furniture an inch in a dark room.
Everything is still there.
Nothing where I thought it was.
---
I smile when I need to smile for the rest of the evening.
I say the right things.
I laugh when Marcus is funny and listen when Elliot speaks and squeeze Caden's hand once when Diana is watching because that is what this evening requires.
And the whole drive home I sit in the quiet of that black car and look out at Chicago and understand one thing clearly.
I have walked into something with walls I cannot see yet.
And the man sitting twelve inches from me knows exactly where every single one of them is.
- Writer
