For the rest of April, it is foggy. The rain is dreadful, pouring and pouring at all hours for weeks on end. I'm sure there are breaks, but I don't notice them. I'm so busy preparing my second bi-annual report. Practically no one is in the office for the entire month. Even through May, it seems like they are always whisked away on a case. We managed to squish in time for my presentation in the morning and then they are called to jet out in the afternoon.

And worst of all, it's May. Again. And I just want to be lying in bed and not here.

When I pull up to his place early Friday afternoon, I turn up the music in the rental car. We've got five hours of driving to do tonight round trip just for the rehearsal dinner. My brain is too loud. I have half the mind to turn off my phone just so I don't think about the acceptance email from Georgetown sitting alone in my inbox. I try not to think of what excuse Reid gave to have this weekend off, especially with so many calls happening in the last two months. I also try not to think about how I haven't had the chance to tell Reid about the plan I've roped him into.

I dig my fingers into the steering wheel.

Someone knocks on the passenger window. I flinch. Of course, it's only Reid. He smiles at me before pointing down to the lock. My fingers find the locking mechanism in the door before my brain can really catch up. This is it. We're going now.

"Hey," I smile at him.

He smiles back, climbing in the car. I'm grateful the car has air conditioning, which I turned on before I even pull out of the parking spot. Already, it's warming up in here. It's already warm for May, summer rearing its ugly scorched head earlier this year. I have a cardigan in the backseat that I'm planning on wearing since it's only going to get colder as the evening goes on.

"How have you been?" he asks. "It's been a while since we talked. Have you kept practicing dancing?"

I nod my head. While I didn't go to the studio again without him, I'd practice the moves in my apartment at least twice a week. Once, Estelle caught me and I didn't hear the end of it all week.

"Everything's ready," I tell him. "All the stuff is already packed for tomorrow, so I'll just swing by to pick you up at around seven, if that's all right. You'll have to find some way to entertain yourself before the ceremony starts. Stéphane and Bastien will have dates there that you can chat with. Although, I don't know if Mylène speaks English, honestly."

"I can bring a few books," he offers. "If it's okay, I'd appreciate you leaving the car keys with me. That way, I can read them more discreetly."

"Haven't you done enough reading on all the flights this month?" I ask, a smile playing at my lips.

He sighs, so deep and low. I watch as signs pass us by. It might have been years since I last drove. Probably the last time I drove was when my father died. For some reason, I'm worried the breaks aren't going to work. As if I'm going to push them and they are going to slow me down, but not quick enough. I'm worried I'm going to blow through stop signs, only able to honk my horn as I blast through intersections toward oncoming traffic. It feels contradictory, to be in here. I'm inherently a passenger.

Passengers shouldn't be given keys.

"When does dinner start?" he asks.

"We're supposed to be there, parked and settled at six," I bite my bottom lip. "So, we should get there on time. I'm more worried about getting home. Since the rehearsal is earlier, I'm hoping we can leave by eight at the latest, but we could eventually be looking at something more like ten if we are unlucky."

As I merge onto the highway, my heart begins to race. It accelerates, forty-five miles, fifty, fifty-five. Counting up, somehow, is scarier than counting down.

I think about New Year's Eve. I think about hearing everyone inside counting down while Reid and I stand on the balcony out in the cold. Tonight, I brought my own cardigan, and it makes me kind of sad. He's wearing a blue button-up and didn't bring a cardigan or a suit jacket, but what if he had? Would he throw it over my shoulders while I sat at a table in the barn? Would he have insisted upon it, put it on for me, helped untuck my hair out from the heavy collar while I was talking to one of my brothers?

"You're stressed," he points out.

I merge lanes, "correct."

"What are you worried about going wrong?"

I swallow. There isn't enough time to blink slowly on this highway. My eyes feel dry. I'm exhausted.

It's May. It's May and so everything will go wrong.

"What gave it away?"

Even though I cannot look over, I can feel his eyes on me. My collarbone feels so exposed.

"You used eventually wrong," he points out. "It's hard to notice. Since I found out it's your tell for when you're stressed, I've... well I looked up common English mistakes that French speakers make."

I dig my hands into the steering wheel. It feels too cold now with the air conditioning cranked. Goosebumps pepper my arms, probably just as frequent as the freckles that dot my skin. Perhaps they are even more prevalent.

"What do you know about my family?" I ask.

He swallows, "I know this is your sister's wedding. Caro, which I assume is short for Carolina or Caroline."

"Caroline," I correct. "Like the verb lean and not the word line."

"Caroline," he corrects. "I know she's marrying someone named Cletus and that you don't particularly like him. Maybe it's because his family wants you to bring a date. I know you have two brothers, Stéphane and Bastien, and they are bringing dates as well. So, not much else, I guess."

He didn't say Bastien's name correctly, but it's a lost cause for Anglophones. Stéphane is pickier, so at least he got that one correctly. I dwell on that to avoid the next thought.

I press my lips together. There is no avoiding it. If he's going to be my pretend boyfriend, he's going to have to know real details about my life.

"Cletus' family is quite particular," I tell Reid. "They are upset the wedding isn't going to be in a church. Caro really loves family. She's always the one who wants us all to be together, and I think she's a bit sad that only Stéphane, Bastien and I are coming. Also, just say Bastien like Bastian, he'll forgive you. But anyway – our Dad died when I was eighteen, and Stéphane basically raised my siblings while I was out of the country for school. My mother refuses to come because she refuses to leave Québec. She wants us to live there too, but none of us will.

"So, I don't exactly understand Caro's motives, but I know she's upset that it's only my brothers and I who are coming. Maybe she wants us to bring dates, so it feels like there are more people there, or maybe she's trying to show Cletus' family that the older siblings who raised her are stable and in relationships, or maybe she loves family so much she wants us to help her grow one, but either way she told Cletus' parents that I'm on my way to being engaged. And I'm expected to bring a date. Not a friend. And... I haven't exactly told her that you are just a friend."

Reid stiffens. I don't look over at him. I don't blink. I focus on the road. Passengers aren't supposed to drive cars.

"I should have told you," I tell him. A tear stings my eye. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't answer. The song switches. I want to pull over, even turn around, but then I'll be late. Maybe I can just have him wait in the car during dinner and take him back. I'll face Caro's wrath on my own for not having a date. I'll dance with a groomsman. We can tell her family I'm a widow or something. I don't care. This was cruel to do to Reid. If he had sprung this on me, I'd be seething.

"Were you worried that I'd be upset or worried that I'd give away your plan?"

I blink. I hadn't thought about it. So, I don't answer. I keep driving, and while I drive I think. Occasionally, I can feel his eyes on me. Maybe he was expecting an answer. Even if I love research and cracking codes, I am a person of coulds. Deep down, I don't want to know. I want to be as far away from people as I can but he's always close to me. When we are trapped, in cars together, when we are in the bullpen, when we've fought each other and disliked each other and stood across crowded bars from each other. I can always feel him close.

"Reid..." I swallow. "I... I didn't want to tell you. People don't really know me well, and I knew even telling you about my plans would require me to tell you about my family, and why this matters to me. It's shitty, I know, but I wasn't ready to let you in. Or anyone, I guess."

Now, we are just moving in a straight line. Two hours to go still, traffic not at rush hour, and I dare just to glance at him. He's looking at me, with those amber eyes. I look back at the road.

"It's not you," I tell him. "As cliché as it is, it's me. It's probably why I was so hostile when we started work. The idea of spending my time with people who might end up knowing me is – to say the least of it – daunting."

"I don't want you to have to tell me things," Reid hesitates. I hear the breath catch in his throat. "If we are going to pretend to be together, however, I'm going to know a few more things. And we're going to have to agree to our story beforehand."

"You..." I trail off, looking for the words. I don't want to make another English mistake. "You don't mind?"

Reid exhales, "I don't mind undercover work. Besides, we are friends."

I turn my head to look out my blind spoteven though I'm not planning on merging. Mostly so that I can frown without himseeing it.

~~~~~

Most torturous one I've come up with, so very sorry gang. Next chapter is also just urgh-inducing, be forewarned!