Single Dad Fake Fiancé

by Brooks, Summer

  "Okay, okay that's enough," I whispered, picking her up and feeling her soft little cheek against mine and the edges of her pink dress over my forearm.

  I bent down to enter her nursery. Being six feet four inches tall, my frame didn't fit through most doors. I was mindful of it while looking for a new place when Sophie and I split up, but New York didn't quite offer me a ton of options. Other than this one issue, I was happy with the apartment I lived in. It was spacious for a place in that location, so I had resigned myself to ducking through doorways. Win some, lose some. .

  Once Megan was fast asleep with cheeks red as cherries, I checked my watch and lightly shook my head. Sophie was late. I assumed she was either stuck in traffic or she overslept. I understood that it was tempting to get some much needed rest whenever you could find the time to. Those extra hours of sleep meant everything when you had a baby.

  I understood, but I just wished she was more punctual, or that she at least told me when she expected to be late instead of leaving me to put my day on hold. That never bothered me when we used to be best friends, back in the day. A strange sequence of events had led us to where we were now. A night of drunken sex led to her becoming pregnant, which then led to our marriage. Our extremely disastrous marriage that I was responsible for butchering, though there wasn't much to it before I cut it to pieces. I cheated on Sophie. Not physically, but emotionally. Regardless, it was cheating and I wouldn’t name it anything other than what it was. We were both past it now, and the event only led us to realize that we weren't connected as a couple and needed to divorce. That, however, didn't stop me from feeling like an utter piece of shit every time I thought about it. I was ashamed. I was even ashamed then, as it was happening, and I knew that I always would be. No matter how much I tried to move on from it, I would find myself going over it again and again, in circles, on sleepless nights. I'd recall the moment that I entered our marital home, knowing that I'd fucked everything up. I could still remember the sensations that I had the morning I admitted to her that I’d been feeling things that I shouldn’t for a woman who wasn’t my wife. I'd expected Sophie to yell at me, to cry, and maybe even throw things around. I was prepared to deal with her anger. I deserved it. But to my surprise, she didn't do any of that. Instead, she only looked surprised because she didn't think I was capable of such a thing. But apart from that, she was cool as ice. She knew we never really had a marriage to begin with and it was only a matter of time that one of us slipped.

  "I'm glad it was you," she'd said a few days after. "Now I can hold it over your head forever."

  Even though, she'd chuckled after saying those words, I couldn't help but wonder if she meant them. Sophie was the best ex-wife one could ever hope to have. It was a weird realization, but a true one nonetheless. She was amicable, understanding, helpful, you name it. However, she wasn't totally immune to the normal set of human emotions that victims of cheating experience, and wouldn't miss an opportunity to use my weak moment to guilt-trip me. I didn't complain. I embraced it, thinking that I deserved every bit of her wrath.

  I slid my t-shirt over my arms and turned on my laptop, hoping the new app that I'd been trying out recently would distract me from my past.

  Meetme was an interesting concept. My cousin, Henry had once brought it up in passing and I ended up trying it out for myself a few days ago. For now, I'd only browsed through a few women's profiles, trying to find one that really intrigued me. I wasn't surprised that most of them sounded pretentious, fake, and like the women behind them were trying way too hard.

  I imagined that a lot of people would use fake names on their profiles, so that wasn’t really the problem that I had. Instead, I paid more attention to the bio, their way of expressing themselves. Frankly, I hadn’t been able to become impressed with any of the women in my age range of twenty-eight to thirty-five.

  So, when I opened the new profile by the name of ‘Jessica Clayton,' I didn't expect to read anything different than what I already had seen in the other ones.

  Hers was awfully short. All it said was “A single mom from Brooklyn, New York.”

  I smiled at that. Simple. Unpretentious. A mystery. I clicked on her full name and got to the other details. But there were none. She hadn’t joined any other groups on the website apart from this one. Judging from her profile, she was either uninterested in actually meeting people or she hadn’t done this for a while. Well, she wasn’t alone. I hadn’t done this for a while, either. The woman that I had fallen for while I was with Sophie turned out to just be a silly crush - but it was enough to show us that our marriage wasn't solid and that we'd best just end it then. As it turned out, I’d been living faithfully by myself since Sophie and I separated, but now that our divorce was expected to come through at any time, it felt okay to call her my ex-wife. It also felt okay to finally put myself out there and back in the game, to play around before I had to leave. I wasn't looking to get married again right away, if ever. But I was single, and there was nothing wrong with having fun with a beautiful woman while I had the chance. I wouldn’t be in the country for too much longer now, anyway, because my conditional green card was expiring in exactly twelve months.

  Born and raised in Canada, I moved to the United States for school, then got a job and with that, came a work visa. Then, I married Sophie and received a conditional green card that was valid for a limited time. The condition was that her and I stay married until the expiration date on the card, and only then would I be able to get permanent residency.

  I'd thought about asking Sophie to stay “fake married” to me until the date arrived and I could obtain the status, but I knew I couldn’t ask that of her. She'd never go for it, anyway. I didn’t care about being back in Canada, starting over in my career, or living in a country that I could barely call home anymore. I'd get used to it again. What bothered me, however, was the fact that I was going to have to be away from my daughter. I couldn’t bear to be miles apart from her, not being able to see her whenever I wanted to and for however long.

  My chest ached whenever the unknown of the future flashed before my eyes. But I tried to not live in the future, or to indulge in the fear that came with not being able to comfort Megan when she was in pain. I swallowed hard when I looked at her sleeping on her back, oblivious to how cute she looked with a bow covering her forehead — one that matched her dress.

  My body stiffened with the hurt that I felt and I touched the top of the laptop screen to snap it shut, but then I saw the name again. Jessica Clayton. Her empty and non-exciting profile stared at me like a blank page that it was, and I couldn’t help but click on her small image. Again, it was a complete surprise to me that she had a real image of herself up on the website. Not many women seemed comfortable with the idea, and if they did, it would be a really decked out version of them. But not Jessica. Her blonde hair was balled into a bun and she smiled into the camera, looking visibly hesitant. The smile, as beautiful as it was, didn’t reach her big brown eyes that seemed sincere and innocent. Something nudged me to reach out to her, to say hi, even if it didn’t lead to anything.

  When I scrolled down to send her a message through the website, I saw that her phone number was proudly displayed above her email address.

  “Wow,” I smirked.

  Now, I was sure that she just wasn’t aware of how ugly the world of the internet could get. She was either innocent or ignorant.

  I thought it’d be best to stick to communicating through Meetme, so I sent her a straight forward message.

  - Hey. -

  I hadn’t had conversations with many women since I joined the website a week ago, and I didn’t expect this to go anywhere either. She was likely to reply back with a ‘Hey’ of her own or nothing at all. I wished she would. I wanted to know what had come over her when she displayed her phone number down below on her profile for all the horny stalkers to see. In any case, if she was into blatant transparency on the internet, then she wasn’t about to find that on my profile. My name
said AB, short for Arthur Bridge and my photo only showed my eyes. I was doubtful that she’d be interested in investigating further, but I was hopeful. I knew I could try harder on this social media thing, but I didn't want to attract any weirdos either. I was just taking it slow and putting out feelers.

  I turned around when I heard Megan coo in her sleep, then stood over her and watched her until I knew she was asleep again.

  I walked back over to my laptop and this time, I shut it down when I heard Sophie walking up the stairs. I'd given her a key to my place for emergencies, although I wondered if that was a good idea now that I was looking to maybe bring a woman back. I was likely getting ahead of myself, and would cross that bridge when I came to it. That wouldn't be a fun talk to have - "Hey, Sophie, I need my key back because I don't want you walking in on me and my new hot date."

  Popping her head into the nursery, she knocked to get my attention and then walked in.

  “She’s sleeping?”

  I nodded.

  “Guess I’ll just have to wait until she’s up, then. I don't want her to scream in the car the whole way, it's so distracting when I try to drive like that. Wanna sit down in the living room and catch up?”

  “Sure.”

  I pulled over a glass and placed it on the counter, then poured some red wine into it. With arms resting on the countertop, she slid the glass toward her and swirled the wine before bringing the glass to her lips.

  “Oooh. Smells amazing. Aren’t you having one?”

  I shook my head and said, “No. I think I’ll just go for a walk after you go and unwind with some fresh air instead.”

  “Rough day, huh?”

  I knew where she was going with that question. I’d just quit my high paying job as a real estate agent when my cousin offered me a position that paid even better. Sophie had nudged me to accept it, to take over his legacy because he suddenly wanted to retire. I was skeptical at first because of my visa status. I would essentially be leaving the company in limbo in twelve months because I would have no option but to leave. Regardless, Henry insisted that I take over after him, even if it was just for one year, and then he would “figure something else out.”

  “I wonder what’s going through Henry’s mind right now,” Sophie smirked. “I mean, the guy definitely deserves to retire in peace. When do you meet with him again?”

  “In about ten days,” I said quickly. “Mind if we change the subject?”

  With tight lips, she held up her hands. There was a time when I would have discussed this with Sophie without thinking twice, but things were complicated now. She had herself and our daughter to think about. The discussion wouldn’t be about whether or not I wanted the position, but instead about child care, the cost of living in the city, paying rent at two apartments because Sophie hadn’t gone back to work since childbirth.

  I wished that she would get back to work sooner rather than later, not because of the income that she would earn, but because a job would allow her to have a life outside of motherhood. I imagined that it would be healthy for her.

  “So what else is up?” she asked when we were seated on the couch, right before my phone buzzed.

  “Meetme: Single folks in New York” displayed on my screen and I almost murmured ‘fuck.’

  Sophie’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she jerked her head back, letting me know she had caught a glimpse of my screen.

  “Wow, already?” she said, grinning and taking another sip of her drink.

  I flipped the phone over immediately. “It’s nothing.”

  She pursed her lips and looked away.

  “You don’t have to lie to me… anymore.”

  Her eyes landed back on me when she hissed the word “anymore.”

  I wanted to tell her that I never actually lied to her, even back when we were married. I admitted to cheating. I had told her that our marriage had to end, along with our miseries, and she’d agreed.

  Time had slowed down for us both after we got together, thinking that it meant we were good parents. It was a no-brainer at the time. Our drunken night of sex happened between us because I was getting ready to leave the country when my work visa was nearing its expiration date. Then, when Sophie told me she was pregnant, we didn’t think twice before saying our vows in an attempt to make a normal family. We were lying to ourselves.

  Close friendship and physical attraction couldn’t always translate into a healthy marriage. We weren’t in love with each other and the realization that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life was what drove me to start going to that bar. I would drink so I could try and make sense of the things that had gone wrong, until it no longer bothered me that things were deteriorating with my wife to the point where we could barely be in each other’s presence.

  That’s when I met her. The bartender that I would spend my evenings drinking in front of, during weekdays and in the wee hours of the night when most people had to get to bed. I was one of those people, but going home to my wife felt daunting so I preferred to stay right there, chugging glasses of whiskey like it was water. Her name was Christina, and she would tell me all the reasons I shouldn’t drink. I would rock back and forth in my bar stool and tell her with dizzy eyes that she was the world’s worst bartender for not encouraging me to spend my money.

  It started off with chatting about things that were nothing more than mundane, then we began to feel a connection. Or at least, I know I did. It ceased to be about getting sloshed in the evenings and forgetting how much I regretted my decisions. I enjoyed talking to her. I liked the bantering and the teasing. It wasn’t until her and I were on the same side of the bar that I was forced to recognize what I’d been doing all along.

  Sophie gave me a familiar look when I got back home that night, heading straight for the couch instead of our bedroom. She didn’t insist that I sleep next to her that night, like she usually did.

  The next morning, I told her what I’d done and how I’d been feeling since the day we tied the knot.

  Though the divorce was only coming through now, our marriage was over seconds after that conversation. It’d been our first real talk in months and somehow the idea of separating had us backing off and not wanting to fight anymore. There was nothing left to fight over.

  "You're right, I don't have to lie to you, and that's why I'm not." I said, not feeling like getting into any drama with her. "Yes, I get a little lonely over here. You have Megan most of the time, I have nobody."

  She sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess it’s none of my business."

  Thankful that she was backing down for now, I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew it would come up again when she was in a pissy mood, but at least I didn't have to deal with it today.

  Luckily, the baby monitor starting emitting noises. We looked at each other. "I think she might be up," I said, jumping up from my seat and vowing to buy my daughter whatever car she wanted as soon as she turned sixteen, just as repayment for getting me out of this conversation with her mother.

  Sophie rolled her eyes and stood up, following me to the nursery. As soon as she saw Megan, she went to her and picked her up, then frowned. "Where is her bow?"

  "It's right here, I took it off. I don't think she likes it," I said, fishing it out of her baby bag.

  "Of course she likes it. She looks cute in it and she loves looking cute." Sophie said, taking it from me and placing it around her head. Megan, still groggy, rested her head on Sophie's shoulder. I followed her and Megan to the door, handing her the bag.

  I could tell Sophie was annoyed, about everything, but it wasn't my job to try to fix that anymore. She had problems like we all did, but I couldn't help her other than by being a good father and an understanding ex.

  "I'll be back on Tuesday," she said, not bothering to ask if that would work for me or not. She assumed that since I wasn't working I was always available, and while that was true, it would have been a nice gesture for her to ask.

  I just nodded, "Great, I'll be looking fo
rward to it. Bye, sweetie," I said to Megan, kissing her on the head.

  Sophie gave me a dirty look, then stalked off. Maybe the wine had done more harm than good. She always was prone to turning crabby when she caught the slightest buzz. I was glad that she was leaving, but sad to see Megan go with her. Once I shut the door behind them and heard her footsteps disappear into the elevator, I plopped down on the couch, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  Maybe I shouldn't be messing around with that dating app. Did I really want more female drama in my life? I didn't, but I wanted female companionship. Did I really deserve to be lonely the rest of my life?

  I sighed. I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Whatever happened with this online dating thing, well, I was going to keep my cool. I wasn't going to rush into anything, and I definitely was never going to enter a relationship out of sheer necessity again. If I didn't feel that spark and see fireworks, I wasn't going to get into a relationship again, period. It was all too much. I would be fine if Megan was the only woman in my life for the long haul.

  That thought depressed me a little. Even though, I didn't regret splitting with Sophie, I had always wanted a wife and a stable family unit, people who counted on me to provide for them. People to eat dinner with, and go on vacations with. Maybe I just wasn't meant to have that in this life. All I knew was that I was going to be careful next time, if there was even a next time.

  3

  Jessica

  I got into bed early that evening, trying to get some reading in before I dozed off. I was a huge fan of murder mystery novels and all things James Patterson and these were my go to books for bedtime reading. Something impractical to take my mind off of the troubles of everyday life. I settled in, opening my book and pulling up the blanket around me. So, I was mildly annoyed when I saw a notification pop up on my tablet while I was waiting to find out more about the serial killer that had the entire town in sweats. Instead of tapping on it, I scrolled it up in annoyance and got back to reading my crucial chapter. But then, my curiosity peaked when I realized what the notification had said. “New message: Meetme”