No More Horrible Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

  “How are the new sandwiches, girls? We got this amazing Serrano ham, and personally, I think they’re great,” she says.

  “Delicious,” I reply with a mouthful of mini white chocolate and raspberry muffin, so it sounds a lot more like “Berifif.” But she gets the idea.

  Sophie grins at me. “Good to hear.”

  “Erin’s got a really big appetite today, Soph,” Darcy says.

  “Why?” she asks.

  “I don’t know, but I bet it’s got something to do with all that tonsil hockey she did with Nick last night at the Hawks Kickoff Party,” Darcy replies. She holds up her phone and flashes an image of Nick and I lip-locked on the red carpet last night.

  It’s an image I’m very familiar with.

  Last night, after Nick kissed me goodbye on my doorstep and we promised to see each other again soon, I went up to my apartment, climbed into my bed, and searched for images and mentions of us on line. There were a bunch of photos of Nick with various fans and news reports questioning who will take the opening positions in the upcoming first game of the season. I wondered who would want to talk about rugby at a time like this, so I kept searching until I found a photo of us together. His arm was wrapped around my shoulder, and I had the biggest grin on my face this side of the Cheshire cat.

  And then I found this photo. The photo of our amazing, incredible, toe-curling kiss. The one that brought us together, the one that told us both how we felt about each other.

  Of course I had to show Darcy the moment she woke up, which coincided with me bowling into her room with my phone in hand. She’d been so excited and couldn’t help from saying she’d called it that day Nick and Bruno came over to our apartment.

  Sophie lets out a low whistle. “That is some kiss!” she confirms with a nod of her head. She pulls out a chair and sits down. “I didn’t know kissing was part of the whole fake dating deal,” she stage whispers so no one at nearby tables can hear. “That’s going way beyond the project spec, isn’t it? I’m thinking #MeToo movement. I’m thinking legal action. I mean, this is a breach, right?”

  “Soph, calm down,” Darcy instructs and not a moment too soon. If Sophie had her way I’d be suing Nick and the Hawks and about to publish a memoir about how I was forced into a kiss on a red carpet. “Erin might want to put you straight on some things.”

  Sophie turns to me. “Well?”

  “It wasn’t part of the project spec,” I begin. “Or at least, it didn’t end up that way. We wanted to kiss each other, so we did.”

  Sophie slaps her hands palm-down on the table. “Tell me everything. And I mean everything.”

  So, I do. I tell her about how the crowd had told us to kiss, about how we agreed to do it because we both wanted to. I tell her how he told me he thinks about me all the time, and how sweet and thoughtful he is. By the end, I’m bursting with happiness and can barely believe how lucky I am to have Nick in my life.

  “Girl, this is big. Huge,” Sophie declares, shaking her head from side to side.

  I beam at her. “I know.”

  “So you’re a thing now? A real, bona fide thing?” she asks, and I nod.

  “She’s got it bad. Just look at her,” Darcy says as they both turn and look at me.

  “You guys!” I protest.

  “What?” Darcy replies. “You are falling for this guy. I for one think it’s incredibly romantic. You pretended to be together, and now you really are.”

  “Look, all I know is I’ve got a great feeling about this. There’s something about Nick that, well, that I feel here.” I put my hand over my heart. “I mean, of course he’s fun and good-looking and successful and all those things, but there’s more to him than all that. He’s kind, and he’s sweet, and he’s funny and so much smarter than you’d ever expect.”

  “I guess we should we be vetting the guy then,” Darcy declares.

  “The No More Bad Dates Pact? OMG, I’d totally forgotten about that!”

  “That’s because you’ve been so busy using this thing with Nick to get your designs in the public eye you didn’t even realize you were falling for the guy,” she teases. “But seriously, babe, we should vet him, just to make sure. Wolves in sheep’s clothing and all that.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “Do wolves actually ever dress up as sheep?”

  “Little Red Riding Hood?” Darcy says.

  “He wore the grandma’s clothes,” I reply. “The saying should be wolves in grandma’s clothing.”

  “Well then, let’s ask him some questions and find out if you’re right. He’s the guy you want to date, so we should check to make sure he’s not a jerk or a weirdo. Right, Soph?” Darcy places her hand over her heart. “It’s our solemn duty to you as your BFFs.”

  I picture Nick being subjected to the grilling we give potential dates, and my toes curl in my shoes. “Do you think we need to?”

  “Evaluating potential dates underpins the entire dating philosophy of the No More Bad Dates Pact, Erin,” Darcy replies pointedly. “You might think Nick is the best thing since halter tops were invented, Ms. Fashionista, but as your BFF, I think I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t vet him.”

  “I don’t think halter tops are all that special, you know.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “Okay. I love halter tops, but it’ll feel weird to vet him.”

  Sophie has been suspiciously quiet but now pipes up with, “Back up the bus here, you two. I want to know something.”

  “What?” I ask.

  Sophie leans her elbows on the table and speaks in a low voice. “The thing is, you only got together in the first place to get his reputation back on track. He was the Wild Boy of Rugby, out partying and serial dating. I know things have changed between you, and you’ve got these feelings for him, but how do you know he’s left all that behind?”

  I shift in my seat. I don’t like to think about Nick acting that way. The idea of him as some sort of party animal, like Bulldog and his beer chugging, good-time mates from last night, doesn’t fit with the man I’ve come to know. But there’s no denying he did it, and Sophie reminding me about it makes me wonder why.

  “Erin?” Sophie questions when I don’t answer.

  “He’s changed,” I say firmly. “I know he has.”

  “How do you know that? Has he told you?” Sophie questions.

  I open my mouth to reply and then close it again. She’s right. We haven’t talked about it.

  “Give her a break, Soph,” Darcy interjects, and I shoot her a grateful smile.

  Sophie pulls a face. “Sorry. I just want to protect you, that’s all. You deserve a really great guy.”

  “Nick is a really great guy,” I reply.

  “Okay. Let’s do it,” Sophie says. “We can all sit down with him and ask him a few questions.”

  I mull it over for a moment. If he’s serious about me, I’m sure he’d be happy to meet with my friends and answer a few of our questions, and if he has something to say about his partying days, I’m certain he’ll share it with us. I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t feel as though he’s meeting an execution squad.

  I nod my head. “Okay, we’ll vet him.”

  “Good choice, babe,” Darcy says. “It’ll be nice to get to know him a little better.” She smirks. “Just be sure to ask him to wear a shirt this time so we can actually concentrate on his answers instead of his abs.”

  I look at Sophie when I say, “Let’s agree to go gentle on him, okay?”

  Sophie raises her hands in the air. “I’m making no promises. If you think he’s the guy for you, then he’ll need to prove he is to us all.”

  I make the sign of the cross and press my palms together.

  “What are you doing?” Darcy asks with a laugh.

  “I’m putting in a word with the man upstairs to help Nick through it.”

  “If he’s the guy you think he is, he won’t need it,” Darcy replies.

  I shrug. “It never hurts.”

&
nbsp; ——

  In the afternoon, I drive down to the Manua Rest Home to visit Mom. Since it’s Saturday, it’s no one’s official visitation day, and I’m not sure who else from my family will turn up at our usual time, so I’m surprised to see not only Dad, but Tim and Gab and Granny, too. They’re lingering on the steps when I pull into the parking lot and watch as I park my car.

  “Hey, you guys. I didn’t know you were all coming today,” I say as I walk toward them. I come to a stop when I notice Dad’s face looks unusually tense.

  Worry hits me like a steam train. “Has something happened to Mom? Is she okay?”

  “Oh, no, Ernie poppet,” Gab says as she gives me a quick hug. “Everything’s fine with your mom. We thought she deserved some decent family time today with all of us, that’s all.”

  “And you’ve got some news for her, don’t you, pet?” Granny adds.

  “Actually, yes, I do have some news,” I say brightly. “It’s about my fashion designs.”

  I checked to see if #ErinAndrews had gained any traction after last night and was delighted to see my social media had blown up. People want to know not only about me and Nick, but about my designs, some even asking where they could buy them.

  When I read the comments, I was over the moon and floating somewhere near Mars about now, wearing an Erin Andrews Designs spacesuit, of course. Not that I’ve planned a space line, exactly.

  “Oh, look at you,” Granny says, holding me by the upper arms. “You don’t look any different to me.” She turns to Gab and repeats, “She doesn’t look any different to me.”

  “Our Erin always looks lovely, no matter what,” Gab confirms.

  I narrow my eyes at them. “Why should I look different?”

  “Because of the thing with the man,” Gab replies unhelpfully.

  “There you go again, Betty, replacing the proper word with ‘thing.’ No one understands what you’re talking about.”

  My throat tightens. “What thing with what man?”

  “I don’t know, sis,” Tim begins. “If I were a gambling man, I’d bet she’s probably talking about the kiss you shared with that rugby player.” He clicks his fingers. “What’s his name again? Nick Zachary. That’s the one.”

  “You were seen kissing him on some red carpet. The man you said you weren’t dating. We saw the photos online.” Dad’s lips are drawn into a thin line, his jaw locked.

  “Dad, I can explain that,” I begin hastily as anxiety blooms inside me. I told my family I wasn’t dating Nick, and now they’ve got proof that I am. Not that I lied, exactly, because we weren’t dating when they asked me about him, but I can’t tell them it was all a ruse back then.

  Dad raises his eyebrows. “Well, Erin?”

  “We weren’t dating, and then, last night, we kissed, and we decided we would,” I reply weakly.

  “Who are you off kissing and dating?” Gab asks, looking confused.

  “Oh, you know, Betty. Ernie’s been seen kissing that handsome young man,” Granny explains.

  “Which one?” Gab asks, scandalized.

  “The one we met at that high tea place a while back. You had a cappuccino for a change instead of a cup of tea.”

  “Oh, I remember now. That was a good cappuccino.”

  “Yes, lots of froth.”

  “I do like a good bit of froth on a cappuccino.”

  “And chocolate. It’s got to have chocolate.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Can we focus here?” Dad interrupts. “I think Erin’s got something to tell us. Don’t you, Erin?”

  All eyes turn to me, and I nervously shift my weight.

  “Well, pet? Who did you go kissing?” Gab asks and then immediately answers her own question with, “Oh, I know. The one on that house show. Thingamywhatsit.” She peers at me. “You kissed Thingamywhatsit?”

  “Oh, well done, you,” Granny replies. “He’s a dish.”

  “If I were thirty years younger,” Gab says, her hand over her heart.

  “You’d be old enough to be his mother,” Tim quips.

  “Ooh, don’t you go being cheeky with me, young man,” Gab replies.

  Dad raises his eyes to mine. “You said you weren’t dating this guy, but now with those photos…” He trails off, and I feel my throat tightening. “I know you’re a grown woman and you make your own decisions, but your mom and I brought you up to always tell the truth.”

  My insides twist as I see the sadness and confusion in his eyes. Mom’s illness has had such a deep effect on us all, that something as seemingly small as me not telling him I’m dating Nick has been blown out of proportion for him. I love my family and would never do anything to hurt them. I need to fix this.

  I take a deep breath. “Dad, I’m sorry not to have told you before. The truth is that I am dating Nick. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

  “I knew it!” Tim exclaims with a pump of his fists. “Take that, Brad Nick-Would-Never-Date-Your-Sister Gunderson. In your face!”

  “Who’s Nick Zachary?” Gab asks.

  “He’s the one from the telly, Betty,” Granny begins to explain.

  “The one on that home improvement show we like so much?”

  “Oh, Betty,” Granny complains.

  “Is he a good man?” Dad asks.

  I smile, feeling warm inside at the thought of Nick. “He is.”

  “Well, then, I’m happy for you,” he replies, and he pulls me in for a hug. “You know all your mom and I have ever cared about is your happiness.”

  “And us,” Granny says as she points at Gab and herself, not wanting to be left out.

  “And us what?” Gab says.

  “We care about Ernie’s happiness,” Granny explains.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, we do,” Gab confirms.

  “You should bring him over for dinner, love,” Granny says.

  “Who?” Gab asks.

  “Oh, keep up, Betty,” Granny says as she rolls her eyes at me.

  I laugh. “Nick Zachary, Gab. My new…boyfriend.”

  “I thought you were kissing that handsome man from the high tea place,” Gab says. “Good cappuccinos there.”

  “Yes, they were good cappuccinos,” Granny confirms and the two of them begin prattle on again about froth and powdered chocolate.

  “Are you happy, sweetie?” Dad asks.

  “I am.”

  “Good. Now, let’s go in to see your mom, shall we?” Dad wraps his arm around my shoulder, and we walk together into the rest home. “I’m sure she’d love to hear all about how her daughter is dating an All Black. She might be confused by a lot of things these days, but she is a Kiwi. The All Blacks are in our blood.”

  “Oh, I know that, Dad. I know that.”

  Chapter 16

  Over the next few days, Nick is away at training camp with the team. We text and talk on the phone every day, and I spend my time capitalizing on my newfound fame. Well, it’s not exactly “fame” on any real basis, more a fleeting moment in the spotlight, thanks to my outing with Nick, but I’m hoping it will give me the leg up I need to break into the fashion industry and completely change my life.

  No pressure there.

  I’ve been feverishly posting images of all my designs, getting Darcy to take candid snaps of me wearing my favorite pieces as I go about my daily life (if my daily life involves holding model-like poses whilst pretending to eat an apple, that is), and have even started a blog called Non-Tall Girl all about fashion for the vertically challenged.

  It’s been fun and exciting, and with the interest I’ve been getting, I’ve started to feel as though my long-held dream of becoming a fashion designer is finally within reach of my newly manicured fingertips.

  There’s also been a lot in the media about Nick and me. Stories are all over the Internet, on the cover of gossip magazines with captions like Wild Boy of Rugby Tamed and Naughty Nick Mends His Ways, and my least favorite, Nick and his New Shortie.

  Seriously? I’m not that short
, thank you very much.

  There was even a shot of us in the Kiwi Woman’s Weekly yesterday with a short paragraph about Nick stepping out with a new girl called Emma, accompanied by a photo of us arm in arm on the red carpet. Emma. Well, I guess at least they didn’t call me Shortie. In my new life as a celebrity’s girlfriend, I guess I’ve got to be thankful for small wins.

  And then, a really big win comes along.

  I’m sitting at my desk at work, surreptitiously filtering through my fashion design-related emails and trying not to think about Nick, when I spot a new email from New Zealand Fashion Inc. Quickly I read it and almost levitate off my seat in excitement. I’ve been invited to a fashion industry event for up-and-coming designers at some achingly trendy bar downtown. I can barely believe it! Me, the ordinary girl. This time last week these people would have had no clue I even existed, and now, a handful of days after walking the red carpet, look at me. An up-and-coming fashion designer worth knowing. At least for one fashion get-together, anyway.

  I tap out a reply with a big, fat heck yes! straight away (I don’t use those precise words, of course. I don’t want to appear too eager) and continue to sift through my emails. With nothing else even remotely as exciting, I pull up my website to re-read all the messages from fellow non-talls about how they loved my dress, how much of an inspiration I am, and questions of when I will be opening my own store so that they can buy them for themselves. My own store! Can you imagine? I lean back in my creaky office chair and picture it. It will be oh so stylish and elegant—a light-filled, minimalist room with racks of my gorgeous clothes showcased to perfection and nothing on high shelves. It will be called Erin Andrews Designs, written in simple gold lettering above the door.

  “…earth to Erin. Come in, Erin.”

  I blink and snap my attention back to the room. Margie is standing in front of me, a mug of coffee in each hand and a knowing smile on her face.

  “Margie,” I say, sitting bolt upright in my chair and minimizing the webpage on my screen. Talk about being totally busted! I hope she didn’t see anything. I eye the mugs and say, “Is one of those for me?”