Page 35 of Maybe We Can Fake It

I stop what I’m doing and stare at her, processing her words. She’s probably not wrong. Brenden certainly complicated his situation with Elise and Grant by lying to them about having a boyfriend. Thinking about the way we floundered like idiots last night, I remember how May jumped in to save us.

“Hey, thanks for last night. With that save and, uh...” A flush creeps up my neck. “The stuff you said about me.”

She leans her back against the counter beside me, with her mug cradled in her hands, and offers me a sweet smile. “It wasn’t hard to come up with a story. The two of youdobanter an awful lot. If you guys were in a romcom, that would totally be construed as flirting.” Before I can argue that Brenden and I don’t flirt, she continues. “And what I said about you always being there for me and my dad wasn’t a lie at all. I hope you know how much he appreciates everything you do for us. We both appreciate it.”

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I admit, “I like seeing both of you happy.”

“My dad likes to pretend he’s always happy, but I’m not a little kid anymore. I can see through him.”

Okay, yeah. This girl is too perceptive.

“But when he’s around you, he really seems the happiest,” she adds. “So if... well, if you two actually did want to start something between you, I’d be cool with that. Just so you know.”

Just so I...

Fuck.

Can she see through me as well as she can see through her dad?

It’s nice to know she’d be okay with the idea of me and him dating. But hearing her suggest that something really could start between us only reminds me that my dad not knowing I’m gay isn’t the only reason I’ve kept a leash on my feelings for Brenden. There’s also the fact that he’s a father. And despite having May’s approval, I can’t stand the idea of dating Brenden and ending up hurting him somehow, because I know that would hurt May too.

I could never do that to this girl who trusts me so much.

In a slightly pathetic attempt to change the subject, I ask her if she wants to help with breakfast.

She gives me a concerned look. “You know my cooking skills are on par with my dad’s, right?”

I laugh. “I bet they are, but I happen to be a pretty good cook. I’m sure I could teach you some things.” Like my grandfather taught me.

For a moment, she’s quiet, peering down into her coffee. But then she lifts her head to meet my gaze, and a broad smile takes over her face. “I’d love that.”

Despite being someone who’s never been great with kids, or even liked them all that much, I find myself smiling back at her. Because yeah. I think I’d love it too.

CHAPTER NINE

BRENDEN

Inthemorning,Iwake up alone in my bed. Which is exactly how I’m used to waking up, of course. But after a few groggy seconds, I remember that Travis slept here with me last night, and I try not to be annoyed at him for leaving without saying goodbye. Maybe I’m expecting too much from him, but if Elise and Grant didn’t get to see him this morning, then what was the point of him staying the night? Other than to get me all confused and flustered and mildly horny.

Aw, crap on toast.

It suddenly dawns on me that maybe he left because I pushed it too far by kissing him last night. I probably freaked him out. (Even more than I freaked myself out with how much Ilikedkissing him.) He agreed to it, but I’m beginning to wonder if Travis would agree to anything I ask of him. That doesn’t mean he was comfortable with it.

As I head downstairs, mentally planning my apology and assurances that he’ll never have to suffer through kissing me again, I hear the familiar music of a Skyler James song. May must be playing it somewhere. Following the music, I findmyself in the kitchen and then stop dead, taking in an entirelyunfamiliarsight.

May is standing at the counter, lavender hair thrown up in a messy bun, swaying her hips and bopping her shoulders along to the upbeat song. This wouldn’t be strange, were it not for the fact that while she’s bopping, she’s also using a wooden spoon to stir something inside a large mixing bowl. My daughter takes after me in that she doesn’t cook, so I have no idea what she’s doing.

But that’s not even the strangest part.

Nope.

The strangest part is the sight of Travis Reed in my kitchen standing right beside May, chopping up vegetables on a cutting board. I could be mistaken, but I think I catch his shoulders getting in on the bopping action for a couple seconds too.

Does. Not. Compute.

May uses her free hand to reach for the mug of coffee next to her and takes a large gulp from it, which is pretty much the only thing that makes sense to me about this picture. As she sets the mug down, she notices me and smiles brightly. “Hey, Dad! Wanna help?”

“Help?”

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