Sections of the dossier are separated by Roman numerals. One section is titled “How We Met.” Another is titled “Dean: The Early Years.” It’s as though I’m preparing to enter an amateur Witness Protection Program.

My eyes bulge when I get to the “Interesting Facts About Me: The Highlights” section. I can’t help it. “You try to avoid saying the word Houston?”

He blushes. “An ex-girlfriend lives there. It’s a long story.”

I’m not touching that one. “And you spent part of your childhood in Delaware?”

He nods. “Yeah. Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I didn’t think anyone actually lived in Delaware. Except for the Bidens.”

“So much hate for the tiny state,” he says, his lips pursed in mock offense.

“Settle down, 40 Cent. No need to get so defensive.” Scanning the next page, I try to imagine Dean assembling his life into a PowerPoint presentation. Who does that? “You’ve included all of your social media handles too. How thorough.”

Detecting none of my snark, he smiles proudly. “If we’re supposed to be dating, we should follow each other on at least one of these accounts. Instagram, probably. And post a pic or two for some realism. Everything you need is there.”

I toss the folder onto the table. “Fine. I’ll read it. But faking a relationship is going to require more than just reading our histories and being mutuals on Twitter. We’re going to need to get comfortable with each other. Finish each other’s sentences. Be playful and loving. That requires acting, not just reading.”

“I’m prepared to do that too,” he says. “Impersonating a man in a real relationship is a strength of mine.”

I give him a blank stare.

“Too soon?” he asks.

“Definitely.”

“Duly noted,” he says. “Seriously, though. I know I’m asking a lot of you, and there are no words to express how much this means to me. You’ve been a bright spot during an admittedly rough time.”

Rough seems like an understatement. Which reminds me: We’re going to need to talk about his breakup with Ella eventually. A close friend and roommate would know the backstory. Still, I’d much prefer to end this coffee date on a high note, so I simply say, “I’m glad.”

“And if there’s anything I can do for you in return, just say the word.”

Now there’s an intriguing offer. Although it obviously wasn’t the impetus for my saying yes to his harebrained scheme, having Dean indebted to me may nevertheless come in handy someday. But surely he doesn’t mean anything. “How about a million dollars in my bank account by close of business tomorrow?”

He chuckles. “Anything except that.”

“Then how about an IOU that I can cash in when the time’s right?”