Page 101 of Maybe We Can Fake It

Shaking my head, I tell him, “I’ve got a lot more thinking to do. But this helped. Thanks, man.”

I’m about to head off when I turn back to him, not wanting to be a shitty friend. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask how you and Mason are doing.”

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, and with Emma recently leaving the two of them, I’m guessing this is going to be hard for them.

I know Brenden’s having conflicted feelings about May celebrating with her grandmother. And I know I’ve hated the holiday since my mom left when I was a kid. It sucks how a day that’s supposed to be nice and make people happy can make some people feel like shit.

“We’re good,” he says. “Not looking forward to tomorrow, but I’m gonna try to keep Mason busy with some fun stuff, so hopefully he won’t have to think about it too much. I don’t want him to feel like he’s missing out on anything because he’s only got me now.”

“Well, this might not mean much,” I offer, “but coming from someone whose mom left him around the same age... it does get easier. You eventually learn that what you’ve got with the people who stay is worth more than what you’re missing with the people who choose to leave.”

He gives me a small, sad smile. “I’m hoping I can be everything he needs.”

“You already are,” I tell him. Because I know Connor, and I know what kind of guy he is. And because I know firsthand that one good parent is enough. My dad proved that. Brenden’s proving that every day.

Of course, all of this is what makes my decision to come out to my dad harder. One parent is enough, but I’m not ready to have none.

Still, I need to figure out a way to tell him. Because Brenden is worth it.

Mother’sDayisthebusiest day of the year for the diner. The spike in profits is great, but by two o’clock, I’m beat, and I’ve reached my limit on being polite to people. Luckily, the place has mostly cleared out and probably won’t get busy again for a couple hours. Benji’s already cashed out the last two tables, although the families are still lingering, and now he’s going through the credit card receipts to calculate his tips while I wipe down the counter.

The bell on the door makes me flinch. I swear, one day, I’m going to rip that stupid thing off.

But when I glance up, I get a fluttery sensation in my chest. I didn’t expect Brenden to come in this early today, if at all, since he was hosting that big brunch at the inn. So this is a nice surprise. After the morning I had, I couldn’t be happier to see his face.

My happiness quickly fades, though, when I realize something’s off about him. He’s not smiling, which is probably why he doesn’t quite look like himself. In fact, he sort of looks like he got hit by a train. Not physically—his work outfit is perfectly coordinated and clean. He looks like he got hit by an emotional train.

Shit.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, moving around the counter and rushing toward him.

He’s just standing there, two steps inside the door, glancing around like he’s never been in here before. Like he’s lost. Blankly, he says, “Hi.”

I grasp him firmly by his upper arms and search his face for clues. “Brenden. Are you okay?”

He shakes his head as if coming out of a daze. “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. I just...”

When it becomes clear he’s not going to finish that sentence, I lead him over to a stool at the end of the counter and encourage him to sit. Then I run behind it to pour a cup of coffee. I slide it in front of him, but he shakes his head again, eyes downcast, and doesn’t touch it. And that’s when I really worry.

I’m aware Benji’s watching us, and the last few customers probably are too, but that’s the least of my concerns. Bracing my forearms on the countertop, I lean all the way into his space so that he’s pretty much forced to either look at me or deliberately turn away. He doesn’t turn away.

“Baby,” I say quietly. “Please tell me what happened so I can fix it.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from my right. Benji.

But Brenden still doesn’t speak.

I don’t know how to make him talk to me, because I’m not good at this shit. All I know is that seeing him obviously distressed is making me crazy. I want to grab coffee mugs off the tray and smash them on the floor just todosomething, but I can’t look away from him.

Then his chin starts to tremble and his eyes well up with tears. He whips his head around the room like he’s panicked, and I immediately understand that he doesn’t want to cry in front of these people. Probably not in front of me either, but I’m the one his desperate eyes lock back on to.

It’s a silent cry for help. And even though I still don’t know what’s going on, my protective instincts for him kick in. In a flash, I’m back on his side of the counter. I wrap one arm around him, and when he tucks his face into my chest, I bring my other hand up to the back of his head, shielding him from the world the best I can.

As I lead him toward the back area of the diner, I shoot a glance at Benji. “Can you please stay for a bit?”

He’s staring at me like he’s rapidly figuring out some stuff about me, but he says, “Of course. Take as long as you need.”

I nod. Although really, I’ll take as long as Brenden needs. I don’t care if I have to close the diner.

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