Page 47 of Maybe We Can Fake It

“Who the heck keeps burn ointment in their house?” I ask.

Elisetsks. “You should always keep a fully stocked first aid kit in the house, especially when you have children.”

Great. She’s found another way in which I’m a failure as a father.

Travis gives me an apologetic look. “I’m only used to having it around because burns happen all the time at the diner. Hazard of the business. I’ll bring you some to keep here.”

He’s moved on from me kissing him like it wasn’t at all weird. Maybe he’s a better actor than I would’ve suspected.

“Should we go pick out a movie?” Elise asks. “Hopefully their game will be finished soon.”

In agreement with her, I grab the cookies to bring into the living room. Before I can make it two steps, though, Travis swoops in and takes the plate from me. “For safety,” he teases.

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying one plate,” I insist, doing my best to look annoyed.

“I know you are, baby,” he says patronizingly.

I want to continue this bantering, but my mind gets stuck on the wordbaby.

Then I notice Elise watching us with a smile on her face, andohhh. Boyfriend.Fakeboyfriend.Duh.He’s only playing his role.

Of course. Obviously. Silly of me to forget.

Letting him carry the cookies, I backtrack to refill my coffee mug, then join everyone else in the living room. Travis is already sitting at one end of the couch, looking like he’s squashed himself as far against the arm as he can, and Elise is at the other end. May and her grandfather must have finished their game, because Grant is now sitting in the armchair, and May is stretched out on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table.

I survey the room as if some more seating will magically appear.

“Come sit,” Elise says, patting the empty space in the middle of the couch. “There’s plenty of room.”

There’s notplentyof room. Enough room for me to fit, sure. But that would put me a lot closer to her than I’m comfortable with. My eyes flit between her and Travis, until Travis smiles at me and holds out his arm along the back of the couch like an invitation.

Not left with much choice, I go to him, carefully stepping over May’s legs. I sit down so that I’m closer to him, leavingmore space between me and Elise. He puts his arm around my shoulders as soon as I’m seated, and I let myself lean against him. His fingers start traveling up and down over my shirt sleeve in a very comforting way.

For someone who doesn’t do relationships, he’s really good at this.

His touch soothes my anxiety, and by the time the opening credits of the movie appear on the screen, I’ve sunk into him so much that I’d fall over if he decided to get up.

Turning his head toward me, he whispers in my ear, “How are your fingers?”

The question takes me a second to process, because being held by him honestly made me forget all about the burns. Now that I remember, they do hurt a little. Instead of admitting that, though, I just shrug in response.

He gives me an appraising look, like that wasn’t a good enough answer. And then he reaches for my hand, brings it up to his mouth, and slowly presses a soft kiss to each burnt fingertip.

I’m holding my breath the entire time. Are Elise and Grant watching us? Is this all a show for them? Surely, it must be. But then why does it feel like it’s really for me?

When he’s done, he gives me my hand back. Although it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Pretty sure he owns it now.

Also pretty sure I need to get myself the fuck together. I’ve been friends with Travis for a decade without lusting after him. I can get through another week of this without jumping him.

Probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

CHAPTER TWELVE

TRAVIS

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