Page 42 of Fake To Forever

“I’m sorry. It’s just not something I like to think about.”

I had gone after Theresa, not for myself, but for Oliver. When I’d found her, it’d quickly become clear that she really wasn’t suited to be a mother, so I let her go without a fight. We’d agreed that we would keep Oliver a secret for as long as possible and not let it be known who his mother was. Theresa had wanted a total break from me and our son. Her mother, Agnes, who’s a cold-blooded and cutthroat bitch, supported her daughter’s abandonment of Oliver, more concerned about her daughter’s fledgling modeling career than the well-being of her grandson.

Since it got out that Oliver is Theresa’s son, she’s suddenly taken a greater interest in his life and wants him. I’m not fooled. She has ulterior motives for wanting Oliver, and I know they’re entirely selfish.

I hate Theresa for that, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive her.

“I understand,” Haven whispers. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s all right,” I assure her. “We’ll have to deal with her eventually, but for now, I don’t want to think about her and just focus on Oliver. And on us, I suppose.”

“Us.” She grins and shakes her head. “That sounds so weird, doesn’t it? My family is going to freak out when we tell them.”

At the mention of our families, the lightness in the room shifts slightly, and I can sense the tension creeping back in. I know this is a conversation we can't avoid.

"How do you want to tell them?” I ask gently. “Your mom? And your brother?"

She sighs, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"My mom will be thrilled, no doubt, but I worry about how much to tell her—how much of the truth. If I tell her that I’m getting married just to make her final wish come true, that’ll just upset her. We need to convince her that this is real."

I nod. "I get that. Let her be happy about the marriage without letting her know it’s an arrangement."

"Exactly," she says, her brow furrowing slightly. “Then there’s my brother. He’s going to be… complicated. That’s for sure.”

At the mention of her brother, dread fills me. He’s my best friend and I haven’t bothered to include him in any of this. Which is clearly going to back fire on me when the time comes. Thank God he’s in the oil fields right now. It gives me time to come up with a plan to avoid getting my ass kicked.

“Hey, don’t worry,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice calm and even. “It’s all going to be okay. I’ll worry about your brother. You just focus on your mom and planning the wedding. We’ll make this work, I promise.”

She releases a long breath and slowly nods, appearing relieved by my words.

“Okay.” She gives me a small smile. “Okay. We can do this.”

“We’ll go see your mom tomorrow, yeah? I think you’ll feel better once you’ve talked to her.”

She hesitates, her smile widening once more as she nods. “You’re right. That sounds like a good idea.”

Feeling more assured that she’s not going to bolt on me, I release her hand and sit back against the back of the couch. She turns her gaze back to the magazine in her lap and I let myself relax, feeling as though I just side-stepped a disaster.

Now that we’ve started down this path, I’m going to make sure we pull this off, no matter what it takes.

@[email protected]

@[email protected]'m not sure what you want me to look at here, but I did change it from saying " Venice... Italy." to "Venice... Milan." since both are in Italy and it makes a bit more sense to me that way.

Chapter Sixteen: Blurring Lines

Haven

The hospital smells like antiseptic and something faintly floral. I’ve been here so many times, the walk to my mother’s room feels both familiar and foreign, as if each step brings me closer to something I’ve tried to avoid thinking about. Today is different though.

Christian is with me.

He’s walking beside me, his hand lightly resting at the small of my back. The warmth of his touch should be comforting, but it only amplifies the nervous energy humming through me. My heart is pounding, my thoughts racing with what we’re about to do. Telling my mom about our engagement should feel like a happy moment, but all I can think about is the lie behind it.

When we reach her room, I pause outside the door, taking a deep breath. Christian’s hand shifts to my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. I glance up at him, finding reassurance in his calm expression. He’s always so steady, so sure of himself, but I wonder if he’s feeling the same uncertainty I am.

“You ready?” he asks softly, his voice a low murmur that somehow cuts through the chaos in my mind.

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