Page 22 of Fake To Forever

“No hard feelings,” I say, forcing a smile that I hope looks more genuine than it feels. “Really. It’s fine.”

She bites her lip, her eyes flicking down to the floor before she looks back up at me. There’s something in her gaze that I can’t quite read—something hesitant, maybe even conflicted.

“I just… I don’t want to cross that line. It’s complicated, since Oliver’s in my classroom, and… I don’t want things to get weird and possibly affect him.”

That makes sense, I suppose.

I didn’t think to consider that maybe that was why she ran out like she did last night. But it makes sense for her to leave if she feels like it's a conflict of interest.

“Same here,” I agree quickly, maybe too quickly. Of course, she’s looking out for Oliver, which I appreciate, but I wouldn’t let anything happen to my son. Still, I need to respect her wishes… at least until I can figure out a way to convince her otherwise. “We’re good, Haven. No weirdness.”

She nods slowly, her fingers still twisting together.

“Okay. Good.” There’s a beat of silence, and then she takes a small step back, like she’s preparing to retreat. “I should get back to the kids, but, um… I’m glad we talked.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say, even though I’m not sure I mean it. She turns to go, and I watch her walk away, feeling like I just missed an opportunity to say something—anything—that might clear the air between us. What could I have said, though? That I can’t stop thinking about the way she kissed me back?

I shake my head, trying to clear it. This isn’t the time or place for these thoughts, and besides, Haven made it clear she doesn’t want to cross that line. I will respect that. But as I leave the classroom and head back down the hallway, a nagging doubt lingers in the back of my mind. Did I really misread everything that badly, or is there something more going on with her?

I’m so lost in my thoughts as I reach the main entrance of the daycare and step outside that I don’t notice the paparazzi until the cameras start flashing.

Freezing, I gaze out in disbelief at half a dozen people aiming their cameras at me and shouting my name.

“Christian! Christian! What are you doing in Blue Ridge Falls?”

“Is it true you moved here because of a legal matter?”

“Is this your son’s daycare?”

“Is it true that you and Theresa are battling for custody?”

Fuck! I quickly step back into the daycare and shut the doors, my mind racing as panic seizes me. How the hell did they find me? I was so careful… someone had to have tipped them off.

Was it Theresa? Her mother? Who else could it be?

“Chris? What’s going on?”

I spin around and meet Maggie’s concerned gaze. She’s sitting at her usual spot behind the reception desk. Her eyes dart from me to the group of leeches outside and back. All I can do is stare at her for several moments because I don’t know what to say. I’ve been working so hard to keep my identity under wraps, but that plan seems to have just gone up in smoke. Now the problem is explaining why I’ve been lying about who I am.

Shit… what if Haven finds out?

I'm abruptly pulled from my thoughts when hurried footsteps approach, their sound echoing ominously in the silence of the hallway. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Haven. Her distinct, lighthearted scent of vanilla and cinnamon precedes her arrival.

“Chris? Hold on! I…” she begins, but her words trail off as she sees the crowd through the glass doors. “Whoa," she breathes out, looking from me to the paparazzi and back again. “What is this?”

“I…” I stop, swallowing hard as I grapple with what to say. The last thing I ever wanted was for Haven to find out who I really am like this.

The color drains from her face as she eyes me suspiciously. “Chris… are those people here for you?”

One of the photographers manages to get a shot through the glass door. The bright light momentarily obscures my vision, leaving spots floating before my eyes.

“I…” The words catch in my throat. How am I supposed to explain everything now? That I’m a billionaire oil tycoon stuck in a custody battle? That I didn’t tell her because I liked how she treated me? That she looked at me like I’m just a normal man?

“Haven,” I begin again, deciding that honesty is my only option at this point. “I’m…”

But before I can finish, Maggie steps in front of me and braces herself against the door. She glares at the photographers outside and dials something hastily on her phone as she cracks the front door open.

“I’m calling the cops!” she shouts. “This is private property and we have young children here! Go away!”

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